When Hellfest announced a double-weekend festival for June 2022, I felt like they had made a massive sacrifice just to cheer me up. After everything we’ve been through in the past two and a half years, it seemed like the perfect remedy. As the excitement of the lineup settled, my friend Övünç and I started planning. A massive ten-day festival – how do we get there, and how do we afford it? The Turkish Lira kept losing value, and the economic crisis deepened despite our savings and hard work. But after considering the psychological toll of the past years, we decided to go for it, no matter the cost.

Years ago, I wrote for Headbang about preparing for festivals. That advice still stands – buy train tickets three months in advance and email hotels – but our faith in everything going smoothly had been thoroughly shaken. It left us with an “if it happens, it happens” attitude, which made the journey a bit more relaxed.

On June 16, a Thursday morning, we arrived in Clisson for Hellfest Chapter 1. It was 35 degrees, and the shuttle line was 100 meters long. With our backpacks and 20 kg suitcases, we lined up along the sidewalk. A kind local woman warned us about the danger of standing too close to the road and offered us a lift, which turned the queue into chaos. We ended up at the back of a 200-meter line. We considered walking instead and remembered that our festival buddy Derin had done it in 2019. Fueled by this memory, we embarked on the journey, greeting familiar shopkeepers along the way, and made it to the festival entrance by 1 PM. The gates would open at 2 PM. We had the choice of a high-alcohol Belgian beer or waiting like decent people with water – we chose water and kept our euros for later.

The metal community’s positive energy was palpable, and every band shared the sentiment, “We missed you!” I felt transported to another dimension. Sharing this excitement with fellow enthusiasts is a luxury we all deserve. Waiting for the gates to open, I was also struck by the diversity. No one was too old, too weird, too plain – everyone was free to be themselves. There was a sense of camaraderie, acceptance, and security.

Inside, we set up our tent under the blazing sun and took refuge in its tiny shade. No major concerts were planned for Thursday, so we took our time. Hellfest uses a cashless system, which means no cash transactions for food and drinks. We loaded money onto our wristbands and got our first beers. Hellfest requires a reusable cup, which can be a bit of a hassle, but it’s an eco-friendly measure I’ve come to appreciate.

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I mentioned there were no major concerts on Thursday, but as soon as we passed the ticket check, Hellstage and the long corridor leading to the campsite, with its Metal Corner stage, hosted smaller bands and fun events like the Air Guitar Contest all day. The last group at Metal Corner was Frogleap, a collaboration of YouTube guitarists. We got to see Leo and Rabea live with a massive crowd. As the concert ended and the crowd dispersed, I spotted a familiar face. At first, I wasn’t sure, but his tattoo confirmed it. Another famous YouTube guitarist, Bradley Hall, was there to support his friends. Fueled by alcohol, I ran up and grabbed his shoulder, shouting, “Oh my God, it’s you!” The small but charming Bradley graciously humored my excitement, chatting and taking pictures with us.

Friday, June 17, started at around 8 AM with our tent feeling like a furnace. We were hungover but had no choice but to get outside. I had plans to see Enforced at noon, then maybe Elder, and check out Shinedown, Gatecreeper, and The Great Old Ones. None of that happened. By midday, it was already 30 degrees Celsius. We hopped from shade to shade, from the campsite to Metal Corner, then to the main area, and finally to the festival entrance and the inner grove. This one-kilometer walk felt like an eternity. We headed to the press area to find out which bands would hold press conferences, only to learn that none would on Friday because the bands refused to leave their air-conditioned dressing rooms. Fair enough. Meanwhile, the shared pool in the press and VIP area had turned into a famous Chinese wave pool. People were crammed into it, some even using the small fountain pool to bathe.

We met our friends Nilüfer, Burak, and Kerry, who were also at the festival representing another publication. Despite our attempts to venture out of the shade to catch some bands, it wasn’t until 5 PM that we finally managed to make it to the stages. We roasted in the heat all day! But I have to mention, the festival had an excellent solution for drinking water. There were water fountains everywhere, providing ice-cold water without much waiting, even for the huge crowd. It would have been perfect if they had more in the campsite too.

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As soon as we could, we visited Lemmy’s shrine. In previous years, there was a Lemmy statue and shrine here, but artist Caroline Brisset’s new creation left us speechless. The massive statue is not just a depiction of Lemmy but a work of art containing some of his ashes. Visitors leave guitar picks, pour drinks, and even attach photos or personal items like condoms. We poured a few drops of our drinks in his honor.

We managed to catch Opeth from afar under a tree. The first proper concert I can say I watched was Offspring. Dexter Holland had lost none of his stage presence or voice. The energy was high from the start, and he didn’t tire at all. His interaction with Noodles was very charming, adding extra dynamism to their already lively performance. Offspring was a perfect start to the festival, reminding me of their many hits and their importance in my past.

I desperately wanted to see High on Fire, but they clashed with Mastodon, who started playing right in front of me. What can you say about Mastodon? They are like a well-oiled metal machine. I saw them at a tent stage in 2015, and they blew me away. This time, hearing their sludge doom sound on the main stage system was incredible. They played six songs from “Hushed and Grim,” which brought a sweet melancholy that transformed into a warm, nostalgic feeling live. Even though it was 8 PM, the sun was still blazing directly onto the stage. Brann Dailor looked like he might drop dead while playing drums and singing. He probably ended up in the burn unit after the show.

Let’s get into something I’ll be complaining about a lot in this review: sameness. This sameness disease, like a fungal infection, has taken over and suffocated some bands. Primordial is one of them. Every concert I’ve seen from them has been the same. “Where Greater Men Have Fallen” is a masterpiece. Opening the concert with this was a power move, no doubt. Their last album was released in 2018, so the setlist was bound to be similar. Should they play their hits? Of course. But this is a gathering of the most hardcore metal fans. There must be people who have seen Primordial 10 times. Give them a reason to watch again! Nemtheanga is incredibly charismatic, even intimidating in a good way. Do something, man. Make your unique music interesting on stage too.

Throughout the festival, I was in touch with Cem Çetinok, who kept me company with his messages. We discussed the performances, and he would tell me what to watch out for. I told him I wouldn’t miss the madman Abbath, and I didn’t. By the time we reached his performance, I was drunk and in full Abbath mode. He played a mixed set from Immortal and his solo work, turning the tent stage into a bloody red atmosphere. He went wild but didn’t mess up, delivering a tight performance.

When it was time for Deftones, we were in front of the main stage. Their stage design with thin LED lights was simple yet effective. The kings of alt-metal have created their niche and have been delivering incredible work for years without repeating themselves or losing their style. Their sound was thunderous on stage. How can anyone resist “My Own Summer” and “Change” live? The only problem was noticing Chino wasn’t singing the choruses. His voice fluctuated throughout the concert; he didn’t even attempt the high notes. It was a bit distracting, but considering what we had, we were grateful to see them live.

We headed to the tent for Electric Wizard. They are another band that truly shines on stage and deserves their reputation. The tent was packed. The fog machine and the mix of smoke created a surreal atmosphere with the ritualistic and sexual visuals on the screen behind them. When their songs slowed to half-time, it felt like your heart was slowing down with them. They could have played for six hours straight, and we wouldn’t have minded.

The last concert of the night was supposed to be Mayhem, but it didn’t work out. The tent was jam-packed, and we couldn’t see or hear anything. We joined the crowd outside watching on the screens, but my drunkenness reached a blackout level, and I don’t remember the end. I do recall insisting we check out DJ Mike Rock afterward. This guy is a big deal. He’s the only metal DJ I know who tours the world. I mean, seriously, even Japan. Known as the “Official Hellfest DJ,” he’s so good that if he came here, people would attend like it was a concert.

On Saturday morning, we woke up to the sound of headliners doing sound checks (so cute) and our neighbor’s snoring, which sounded like a jackhammer (please take my life, dear God). Our neighbors were a pair of Mexicans who spent the entire day chatting sweetly and drinking warm beer. It felt like we were in the Sons of Anarchy universe. But they need to take their snoring friend to a doctor as soon as they get back. Otherwise, he might die from sleep apnea.

Without even washing our faces, we attacked our weather apps, but the internet connection was terrible throughout the festival, so we couldn’t get any info. The blazing sun gave us a hint. Still, we were hopeful, thinking it couldn’t be worse than yesterday. We met up with friends who said, “Today is the hottest day. It’s going to be 41 degrees.” I told them to stop messing with me. It wasn’t a joke. Me and That Man, Einherjer, Heaven Shall Burn, Alestorm, and oh my God, Exciter! I don’t even know how they managed to play. The audience was hosed down by firefighters all day, but only the first few rows benefited from it. The rest turned into sunburnt tourists like those we see in Bodrum and Marmaris. Most of the audience was fair-skinned Europeans, constantly slathering sunscreen on themselves, each other, and anyone nearby. But even SPF 50 was no match for this sun.

We finally managed to get going with Steel Panther in the evening. It was our first time seeing them without bassist Lexxi Foxx. Of course, the group dynamic had shifted a bit. But the Panthers were still beasts. Michael Starr had perfected his Ozzy impersonation, and as Satchel said after “Crazy Train,” “My Randy Rhoads impersonation was spot on, but our singer is like Ozzy and David Lee Roth’s baby.”

Next up was Megadeth. I wondered what kind of antics the fiery redhead would pull. I was curious because I would see them both today and next week, comparing the two. Dave hit the stage with energy, opening with “Hangar 18.” Performing in daylight seemed to throw him off a bit. The song I dislike the most, “A Tout Le Monde,” is bearable, even “beautiful,” only in France. The usually reserved French audience came to life during the chorus. But the defining problem of the concert was again: Dave’s vocal performance has deteriorated. He tried to mask his inability to sing with various technical complaints. During choruses, he backed away from the microphone, and after songs, he gestured angrily at the mic stand, blaming it. There’s nothing wrong with the mic; we can see that. And there’s no solution. As long as he can, Dave will keep hitting the stage because Megadeth equals Dave Mustaine. Getting a frontman with a booming voice to replace him and playing guitar in the background isn’t an option. The person holding the band together, both technically and morally, is the cheerful guitar machine, Kiko. Just don’t get caught sexting, man.

Sepultura was supposed to follow Megadeth, but in a tent! This was the most absurd decision Hellfest made. Forget seeing Sepultura; we couldn’t even get near the tent. The crowd overflowed so much that we couldn’t reach the festival exit until the concert ended. I wish we could have seen them, especially since Andreas’ wife would pass away just a few days later, and Sepultura would never be the same.

We positioned ourselves far back to watch Deep Purple on the main stage. They aren’t my favorite, but out of respect, I stayed. My mind, however, was on the next headliner. As Deep Purple’s concert neared its end, we moved closer to the side stage, ready to pounce as soon as the crowd dispersed. With our large beer glasses filled with Sailor Jerry rum, we braced ourselves for Ghost. From the first note, Ghost was everything I hoped for and more. They performed with simple yet impactful set pieces and a refined energy that resonated with the crowd. Tobias was in top form, even if he admitted to some vocal issues later on. The setlist was well-curated, keeping us engaged and euphoric throughout.

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Ghost took the stage with their usual stunning set design. But something was different this time! There were guitarists, a bassist, a drummer, and Papa, but that was it! Gone were the unnecessary Ghoulette backup dancers and the elaborate Broadway-like props. I was so relieved I almost cried. After Tobias had some legal disputes with his bandmates and dissolved the group, especially during the Prequelle tour, the stage had become overcrowded with tambourine players and whatnot. Now, they’ve returned to their roots. I don’t know the new lineup, but they’re solid. The “Sisters of Sin” choir of nuns during “Griftwood” was brief and sweet. And Papa Nihil’s appearance in a glass coffin, playing the saxophone for a few seconds, was a nice touch. Tobias did struggle with his vocals throughout the performance, but he managed to deliver a satisfying 90-minute set. We didn’t get to hear “Square Hammer” in the end, as he said, “I can’t do another song.” Still, we had an amazing time. Go rest your voice, Papa.

Right after Ghost, Airbourne started on the adjacent main stage. I’ve defended and praised this band everywhere. I’ve done interviews, traveled to Oslo for their shows, and I’m a huge fan. They’re genuinely one of the most fun and tight hard rock bands around today. It was 1 AM, and Ghost had already hyped us up. We were in the perfect mood. But as soon as the concert started, I felt a bit deflated. From the Terminator theme intro to the siren sounds, Joel climbing onto the security guard’s shoulders to roam the front row, and smashing a beer can on his head, it was all the same as every previous concert. Yes, these elements are fun, but we’re talking about an entire career here. A band can’t have identical concerts every time. I watched the show, albeit frustrated, because being in the front row comes with a sense of responsibility.

To wrap up the night, we headed to the press area and played some arcade games. I want to extend my gratitude to the people who left a full pitcher of beer on the neighboring machine.

Sunday, June 19th, was the first day with bearable temperatures, between 28-30 degrees Celsius. With the excitement of a bear and three layers of sunscreen, we rushed to the festival grounds. The first performance of the day was Battle Beast, who I saw live for the first time. The Finnish band on the main stage is quite experienced. Their lead singer, Noora Louhimo, belts out power metal vocals with such ease you’d think she wasn’t the source of that scorching sound. Plus, she doesn’t adopt the operatic style I usually dislike. Hats off to her. Thus, I discovered a new band.

Regarde Les Hommes Tomber, formed in 2013, was one of the bands I was most curious about. When we returned to the tent stage, a huge crowd greeted us again. The French don’t seem to say, “Well, we see this local band all the time; let’s check out the foreign ones.” As a result, I could only watch Hommes from the side. There was a beast on stage. Breathless post-black metal, but melodic. Vocalist Thomas managed the energy inside flawlessly. I wish they had played at night; their music creates an end-of-the-world atmosphere without needing any special effects. This Nantes-based band should not be overlooked.

On the other hand, there were artists who created a “get on with it” effect. Doro Pesch, for example, spent three-quarters of her main stage time repeating “all – we – are” with an Arnold Schwarzenegger accent and making the crowd chant “hey hey” before taking her paycheck and leaving.

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Twin Temple, whose music I don’t particularly enjoy but whose performance I was curious about, was another band I checked out. The husband-wife duo Alexandra and Zachary James took the stage with very stylish satanic pin-up style decor and costumes. They play rock ‘n’ roll and doo-wop. The concert began with a ritual-like atmosphere that seemed a bit like a knockoff of Ghost. Their main themes are denouncing patriarchal systems, homophobia, and sexism, and sending them to hell. Applause. They identify as satanic. A few songs are cute, but it starts to feel repetitive if it goes on too long. Young friends can easily use this to shock their parents out of their religious beliefs.

Meanwhile, we struggled to afford pizza and burgers at Hellfest restaurants due to the crisis, even though we used to rely on them. No matter what you eat, a portion costs no less than 10 euros. Plus, you have to wait in line for minutes. The worst part is, it’s not filling. You’re hungry again in two hours. Friends who woke us up to the idea said, “Why don’t you go to the market? You can buy food at very reasonable prices, and the atmosphere is amazing.” So, we opened our minds to a new system. We had seen festival-goers returning from the market with their arms full for years, but we always felt it was too far and couldn’t be bothered. Warm beer wasn’t appealing either. However, the economic crisis ended the mentality of “we come here once, let’s enjoy it.” So, we walked. We left the back gate of the camping area and reached a huge market called E.Leclerc in 10 minutes. Entering the market, the practice of buying food and drink became a festival necessity. It was larger than a 3M Migros and full of metalheads. Every corner was decorated with festival themes, making us feel like we hadn’t left the festival grounds. Fresh and cleanly washed salad, minced meat ravioli cans, mustard fish, and chocolate croissants for just one euro each blew our minds. At that moment, a gentleman with a Sailor Jerry t-shirt approached and said, “Our rum is on sale; it’s 11.90 per bottle, but you can get it for 50 cents less with this coupon.” My mind was blown. We could drink like Caribbean pirates for less than two beers.

Choosing between Gaahl’s Wyrd and Jinjer, I decided to watch both halfway. Jinjer gathered one of the largest crowds on the main stage. For the past few days, I had seen many fans wearing their yellow and blue Ukraine flag-themed tour t-shirts. For some reason, they didn’t show their performance on the big screens. Those who could see the stage watched, while the majority just listened. I’m not a big fan, but according to Övünç, they were flawless as always. Gaahl, on the other hand, was just as he summed himself up: strange. Gaahl is a quiet character, and his aura feels intense, even tense to me. Except for his crazy eyes, he didn’t interact much, not just with us but also with his band. They delivered a heavy performance with a single word in front of their album cover art.

It was time for another choice: Korn, While She Sleeps, and Misery Index were all performing simultaneously. Övünç rushed to the Warzone stage for WSS, while I, of course, went to the tent stage for Misery Index. Most of the crowd chose Korn, so I experienced Misery Index up close and personal, with a top-notch crew. As soon as they hit the stage, it was a kickass concert, and the crowd went wild. There were plenty of circle pits and crowd surfing. One guy in the circle pit approached a couple watching the concert, said something to the girl, then picked her up and carried her back to the pit. After spinning her around for a few turns, he returned her to her boyfriend. I immediately raised my hand to avail myself of this excellent service, but no one picked me up. Mark Kloeppel was also very happy to have survived the pandemic. He expressed how great it was to be back here in sincere words. Hearing “New Salem” live for the first time was epic.

When I left the tent, I could hear “A.D.I.D.A.S.” in the distance. I started singing along as I walked. Then, instinctively, I stopped myself. Singing “All day I dream about sex” while walking would get me into trouble, something deeply ingrained in my programming. Then I remembered where I was. I was in a place where I could be myself and move freely without owing anyone anything sexual. In short, paradise. I started singing louder.

The person who most deserves the phrase “defying the years” is Rob Halford. When it was time for Judas Priest, we were greeted with a familiar but layered and rich stage design. Those who have seen their concerts in Turkey will remember the studded flashy costumes, the motorcycle entrance, and all the same. But since Rob is a metal icon who has done everything he needed to do for metal, I can’t accuse him of sameness. His voice is still incredible. Between songs, he would go backstage to catch his breath and change costumes, then come back and sing every song from start to finish like a boss. The setlist was classic and complete. He was in good spirits. If you follow his Instagram, you’ll see his joy for life. Thank goodness you didn’t retire, king. Live forever in your pants with no butt.

From the glittery, sexy, and life-loving world of Judas Priest, it was time to transition into the chaotic universe of Event Horizon with Gojira’s stage setup. Thousands of fans packed the front of the stage, a crowd size that wouldn’t be matched until Metallica (not even for Guns N’ Roses). Gojira isn’t just a band; they’re an organism. Gojira is the greatest in modern metal. You can’t just enjoy Gojira; you have to absorb their music with respect. As the concert started, the world around me vanished. It was just them and me. The red-heavy lighting design, simple yet effective decor, and abundant smoke effects hypnotized us. Even without any extra show elements, we couldn’t take our eyes off the set. The concert was primarily focused on their new album, but thankfully they didn’t skip “Magma.” I didn’t understand the French conversations, but Joe kept his interactions brief. Truly, Gojira is the heaviest thing in the universe.

After Gojira, we needed a bit of a return to the real world, so we found ourselves at the arcade machines again. To keep track of time and not miss Watain, I placed my phone on the joystick. Time flew by, and we almost missed Watain’s start, and in the rush, I left my phone behind!

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When we got to the tent, Watain was already starting. The stage was ablaze. Erik came out with a torch to light the giant tridents. He hit a few off notes during the performance, but for Erik, this was more than a concert; it was a ritual. He confirmed this by stating, “This stage is our temple.” Between songs, he would go to the altar set up in front of the drums. Erik is one of the most intense and passionate figures in the black metal world. Before “Black Flames March,” he set a few more pieces of decor on fire and then hurled the torch into the crowd without a second thought. It landed in the space between the stage and the barriers holding back the audience. A crew member quickly grabbed the flaming torch and ran it outside, extinguishing it with water. Everyone on the rail must have seen it, but I seemed to be the only one in shock. It’s one thing if this happens outdoors, but we were in a tent. Erik kept asking if we were ready to die, and while I was in principle, I preferred the festival to end first.

Wanting to capture Erik’s craziness, I reached for my phone, only to realize it was missing. Panic set in. We were leaving for Nantes the next day, and everything, including Airbnb reservations, mobile banking, and return flight boarding passes, was on my phone! Övünç assured me, “Phones don’t get stolen here; someone must have turned it into security. It’ll be there in the morning.” My phone isn’t exactly top-of-the-line, so I chose to believe him, although I might have shed a tear or two in my drunken state. That night, I dreamt of chasing after my phone. While I ran in my useless dreams, Övünç woke up early and checked with the security at the entrance. They directed him to the lost and found. It turns out, I wasn’t the only idiot. They had so many phones they had sorted them by brand. Övünç found mine quickly, confirmed by entering the passcode, and came back. Honestly, if you don’t feel safe here, where would you?

That was the end of part one of the festival. Part two would start on Thursday, June 23. In the meantime, we’d stay in Nantes, take proper showers, sleep in real beds, and use actual toilets. We left our tents, camping gear, and large suitcases at the Hellfest campsite. Initially, this worried me, but the phone incident made me feel more secure. We zipped up the tent and left. Three days later, nothing was touched. Rest easy, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, your social contract is in good hands.

On Thursday, June 23, we took the train back to the festival. This time, we were smarter and stopped by the market first. We stocked up on discounted rum and plenty of supplies. We carried our bags and drinks and rejoined the party by the afternoon.

Trying to re-adapt to the environment, I was just wandering around when Övünç spotted Steve Vai. Whether it’s Vai or Malmsteen, I can’t listen to guitar virtuosos straight up; I’m not familiar with their music. But Steve is a legend with charm and a captivating presence. I won’t embarrass myself by trying to praise his playing.

We missed the start of Zeal & Ardor, but when we got to the tent, they were just getting into it. The last time I saw them on the Devil is Fine tour, I found them atmospheric but low tempo. Stranger Fruit didn’t have much impact on me, but Wake of a Nation definitely took the band a step further. This performance was another step up. The stage sound was richer and louder than the album. We quickly fell under the band’s voodoo spell.

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Whitesnake was the main event for me that night. David Coverdale is a cultural icon, much like Rob Halford. Every experience with him is golden. We secured spots in the front, eager to watch the band’s new member, Tanya O’Callaghan, who’s been the subject of some unwarranted controversy. David has introduced a unique solution that sets him apart from other veteran bands. Struggling with high notes, he’s brought in Dino Jelusick, a gem who covers the parts David can’t reach seamlessly. David, with all his rockstar charm, performs up front while Dino fills in where needed. Tanya’s bass playing was mesmerizing, though I can’t critique it technically. And not to objectify, but she is stunningly beautiful.

David’s banter included a shoutout to Steve Vai: “Did you see Steve Vai? Isn’t he a bastard?” Just when we thought we might miss out on Vai, David brought him on stage for “Still of the Night” with the world’s best introduction: “Once a snake, always a snake!” It was a legendary moment, perfectly capping Steve’s career. Additionally, Tommy Aldridge proved once again he’s not human, drumming like a machine without breaking a sweat.

Helloween prepped behind a huge curtain, and when it dropped, there they were with their giant pumpkin-themed drum set and tailored visuals for each song. Michael Kiske, Kai Hansen, and Andi Deris led the charge, with Sascha Gerstner’s bizarre Viv guitar catching my eye. Fans sang along to a setlist of classics, but my mind kept drifting to my friend Çağlan, who I hoped would recover soon to enjoy the festival season.

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When Scorpions took the main stage, I decided it was time to finally watch them. Klaus Meine, in his rockstar attire, looked more like a sweet grandpa than a rock legend. His voice and movements seemed fragile, and even interacting with the audience seemed exhausting for him.

Heilung, a favorite of my sister Gözde, was a must-see despite my mixed feelings about their music. Their eerie pagan stage presence, reminiscent of Blair Witch and Midsommar, was captivating. The stage was filled with performers in costumes, each playing a role rather than just an instrument. This ancient atmosphere was perfectly executed without a single cringe-worthy moment. It was an authentic and meticulously rehearsed performance.

We rushed to the next tent for Jerry Cantrell. Despite my usual upbeat mood, Alice in Chains songs can get to me in seconds. Jerry lined up AIC covers, which was exactly why we were there. By the time “Down in a Hole” played, I was emotionally drained. Meanwhile, Övünç, with his press credentials, had a confrontation with a spectator frustrated by photographers blocking his view. Security promptly removed the unruly tourist, our only unpleasant encounter at the festival.

Therion followed, and their sound clarity instantly caught my attention. The trio of vocalists was perfectly balanced, and the band’s dynamic performance kept the energy high. Chiara Malvestiti’s raven-winged costume was also a standout.

June 24 was set aside for electronic and industrial music. After enduring hellish weather the previous weekend, the promise of clouds seemed like a blessing, but it turned into a downpour. Still unaware of this, we left our tent in high spirits.

Stumbling upon Health on the main stage was a treat. Their noise-industrial sound was impressive for a noon performance, and I found myself dancing a bit despite the early hour.

Nitzer Ebb was a blast from the past, bringing back memories from my university days. Despite the crowd’s initial lethargy, Bon Harris’s energy was infectious. He dedicated “Join in the Chant” to Douglas John McCarthy, who was recovering from a hospital stay, inviting the crowd to sing along for him.

Gama Bomb surprised me with their fun thrash metal and humorous stage antics. Snowy, a mascot-like creature, hyped the crowd before the band launched into “Sea Savage.” Philly Byrne’s patterned suit and John Roche’s 80s Tom Cruise look were highlights.

Kreator’s set, accompanied by light rain, featured a brutal stage setup with hanging red-robed corpses swaying eerily. Mille’s fierce performance and speech riled up the crowd, even as the rain turned apocalyptic.

Ministry was next, but the rain forced us to seek shelter, missing their set and part of Alice Cooper’s. The rain persisted, turning the festival grounds into a muddy mess, but the crowd embraced it, many opting to go barefoot.

Exhausted but determined, we made our way to Nine Inch Nails. Trent Reznor’s intense presence and gripping performance reminded me why I’ve been a fan for so long. Despite the weather, his energy was contagious, especially during “Closer,” which left us all exhilarated.

The festival was a rollercoaster of emotions and experiences, from legendary performances to unexpected challenges, but it was an unforgettable adventure.

For my second Megadeth experience, I hustled my way to the front. I found myself next to a petite figure that I initially thought was a young boy, so I decided to tone down my enthusiasm from an 11 to a 10 to avoid overwhelming them. However, my excitement levels refused to drop. This concert felt even better than the previous weekend’s, with Dave Mustaine looking noticeably happier. The extended setlist included “In My Darkest Hour” and “She-Wolf,” much to my delight. I hoped the guy in the Vic Rattlehead mask would have the night off, but he showed up during “Peace Sells,” adding to the spectacle. I danced wildly, spilling my drink on those around me. To my surprise, the “young boy” turned out to be a woman my age, which left me feeling a bit tricked by her diminutive stature.

On the morning of June 25th, I woke up with an allergy flare-up. I decided to visit the medical tent for an antihistamine. Explaining my issue to the meticulous French volunteers multiple times was exhausting. Each volunteer carefully listened to my problem in broken English, only to tell me, “I am not a doctor; you need to see a doctor.” Frustrated and running out of time, I thanked them and rushed to catch Hällas.

I made it just in time and secured a spot at the front. Hällas, you beautiful Swedish gem! The band took the stage in their 70s-style velvet capes and dramatic makeup. Vocalist Tommy Alexandersson and guitarist Marcus Petersson stood directly in front of me. They looked as stunning as they do in their music videos, but neither cracked a smile or showed any emotion throughout the performance. Despite Marcus’s guitar tuning issues, their prog-rock-infused heavy metal was superb. They call their genre “Adventure Rock,” which fits their wizardry and alternate-realm themes perfectly. After their calm exit, they returned to pack up their gear, giving me a few more moments to admire them.

Finland’s Prime Minister Sanna Marin made waves at the Ruisrock festival, and our Hellfest had its moment too. This morning, France’s Culture Minister Rima Abdul Malak toured the site with Hellfest creator Ben Barbaud. She shared that her first concert at 14 was Guns N’ Roses, whom she planned to watch with us that night.

Myles Kennedy performed solo with his project Myles Kennedy and Company, instead of with Alter Bridge or Slash. Despite our affection for him, his solo songs felt a bit lackluster compared to his work with his bands. He politely responded to fans’ requests for Alter Bridge songs, saying, “I heard you, but this is what I’m playing today.”

I have to gush about Villagers of Ioannina City. By the third note of their first song, I felt transported to another dimension without any substances. Lead singer Alex has a soulful voice and a warm presence, expressing his joy of being back on stage after the pandemic. Their music took us on a stellar journey, with tracks like “Age of Aquarius” and “Dance of Night” being standouts. Their integration of instruments like the bagpipes (or was it a different kind of pipes?) into their stoner-psychedelic sound was masterful. Arte has the entire concert on YouTube, so check it out.

Next, we headed to the tent to see Myrkur. Her music is peaceful and authentic, but it felt more suited for a cozy winter evening with an Irish coffee than a festival setting. It didn’t captivate me, so I decided to move on in search of more energetic performances.

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Back in ’93, I was too young to attend the G’n’R concert in Istanbul, so this was my first time seeing Axl and Slash share the stage. Over the years, Axl has played with some incredibly talented lead guitarists, but Guns N’ Roses is truly complete only when it’s these two together. The 24-song setlist was perfect, including everything we wanted to hear, plus a delightful AC/DC and Velvet Revolver cover. During “You Could Be Mine,” I was in my element, fully embracing Axl’s impressive vocal performance despite his age and history. He’s in great shape now, no longer hiding behind his past insecurities. He performed in jeans and a t-shirt, even ditching his sunglasses. He seemed like a kinder, more positive version of himself, which made it hard to believe they had to cancel their July 5th Glasgow show for health reasons.

I got pretty drunk, nearly losing my mobility, but I had enough motor skills left to turn my head and watch Blind Guardian. While Övünç bounced off to explore something interesting on a distant stage, I stayed to see what the elves were up to. Despite how it might seem, I wasn’t watching out of obligation. “Somewhere Far Beyond” and “Nightfall in Middle Earth” were cornerstones of my teenage years, and this tour celebrated the 30th anniversary of “Somewhere Far Beyond.” The stage setup didn’t initially meet my expectations, with the band dressed in plain black against a backdrop of the album cover. But the passionate crowd quickly transported me to Middle Earth. The audience, clearly die-hard fans, sang along to every song. Hansi Kürsch’s flawless vocals were almost inhuman, delivering each note with perfection. This is why we come to these shows!

On the morning of June 26th, Övünç was wide awake and rolled out of the tent like a commando, heading straight for the main stage to catch Spiritbox. The setup for “THE Headliner” Metallica included a snake pit, which Spiritbox was the first to use. Even from a distance, we could hear Courtney’s wild performance (“I didn’t watch” in French).

Another must-see for me was Blood Incantation. Firstly, they would never come to our neck of the woods, and secondly, I wanted to see if they could deliver live. Thirdly, I was curious about what kind of people they were. The concert exceeded all my expectations. Sometimes death metal bands take themselves too seriously or suffer from social awkwardness, but not Blood Incantation. They engaged with us, got us hyped, and delivered an electrifying performance. Despite the early set time and a sparse crowd due to Regarde Les Hommes Tomber playing in a nearby tent, they weren’t deterred. Paul Riedl and Morris Kolontyrsky’s matching guitars were sleek, although Morris struggled with tuning issues between songs, which extended the silence and made him visibly sweat. Their technical prowess was exactly as heard on Spotify—these guys are beasts.

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It was clear that today was all about the tent stages, starting with the enigmatic and sexy Midnight. They had a lot of curious fans, and I had to push my way to the front. Their music isn’t too complex, like the black metal version of Airbourne. Although calling them a band might not be entirely accurate since everything is the brainchild of frontman Athenar. The solos were tasty, and their stage performance was captivating, especially the hyperactive guitarist who kept the energy levels high. The songs sounded a bit repetitive to me, but their live success made up for it. I also appreciate Athenar’s sense of humor.

Being able to stumble upon a great band on the adjacent stage is such a luxury! Running around all day from concert to drink to food to bathroom really takes a toll. If I had to point out a flaw in large festivals, it’s that you end up missing more shows than you watch because of all the running around. (Showering to the sound of Jonathan Davis’s mmbappa ummbapapa is quite an experience.) That’s why it’s crucial to consider distance when choosing which shows to attend. I was thrilled to step right next door and wait for Vltimas. Even if they were further away, I would have made it because of David Vincent. Despite only having one album, their set was enough for the limited stage time. David was as charismatic and vocally excellent as expected, theatrically explaining the themes of the songs and bringing the album to life for us.

As Vltimas finished, another large crowd began gathering nearby. Something unusual was happening for a tent stage: photographers were lining up to get in front of the stage. Cult of Fire was about to start. That stage setup was mind-blowing, a maximalist approach that initially blinded and then captivated the audience. Saying it overshadowed the music is an understatement. For the first ten minutes, I was so focused on examining the stage that I barely registered the sound. The music was too epic for the stage system, and eventually, it wore me out (and I kept calling them Cult of Luna by mistake).

On my way to the main stage, I decided to check out the band merch. In the past, shirts were around 20 euros, maybe 25 for big-name bands. But seeing 40-euro prices nearly made me faint. Before heading out, Övünç and I had agreed not to convert prices to TL. We’d adjusted our minds to the euro exchange rate. But 40 euros is still a lot of money anywhere. I couldn’t justify spending that much on a t-shirt, so I left the merch tent empty-handed.

Ugly Kid Joe, a nostalgic treat from my childhood, was on the main stage. I missed the beginning but caught the two songs I knew. Whitfield Crane hasn’t aged at all, making me believe that some good things never change. However, the overall vibe felt disconnected, as if they were saying, “You called us here, but we don’t know why.” It was a nonsensical and disappointing performance.

Bullet for My Valentine, a band I used to love but have been disappointed by since 2015, delivered a tight yet boring show. They were too thrashy to be emo and too emo to be thrash, failing to win me over. However, Matt Tuck has grown his hair out, which was a nice change.

As the time drew nearer, our WhatsApp groups started buzzing, especially with messages from our friend Ersay, who used to roam these festival grounds with us. It was Bring Me The Horizon time. Ever since Oli started catering to TikTok kids, he’s been driving us nuts. Let’s see what kind of set you’ve prepared for Hellfest, Oli. Let’s see if you can actually sing or if you’re going to spend an hour wrestling with the microphone again. We stood there with our arms crossed, like stern schoolteachers, waiting for the show to start. Oli, who first covered his body in tattoos and then blacked them out, appeared on stage wearing a tattoo-patterned shirt. This guy is the most complicated character in the scene. He started the concert with a “Sheffield pride” attitude and, to our surprise, blew us away. The setlist, with only a few exceptions, was incredible. His vocal performance was beastly, reminiscent of BMTH in the 2010s. I docked a point for not playing “Antivist,” but the stage decor was impressive, and the two dancers with different costumes for each song were a nice touch.

On the other hand, Black Label Society, under the sole command of Zakk Wylde, has always been somewhat repetitive musically. I generally like them, but they haven’t evolved much since their last show. Zakk’s over-the-top religious antics during this concert were annoying. Continuously pointing to the sky and kissing his cross like an Italian footballer—what’s the point? This behavior is common among people who abuse substances to the point of collapse, then decide to get “sober” and latch onto some spiritual crutch. It’s fine if you avoid cirrhosis this way, but you didn’t impress me.

Strategic reasons had us moving closer to the main stage, which meant we had to endure Sabaton for a bit. Hellfest’s most elaborate stage setup belonged to them once again. Their heavy artillery-themed stage looked like an army battalion had taken over. Or maybe it just seemed like there were soldiers everywhere because they were all dressed in identical uniforms. I’m not too familiar with their music, and it felt like they played the same song multiple times. Plus, there was that infamous incident where Manowar’s Hellfest concert was canceled, and Sabaton stepped in for a second set. Joakim’s voice didn’t hold up well that night, and it was clear he was still hung up on it, talking about it for half an hour. While I respected his dedication to his craft and appreciated his sincerity, if I were a fan, I’d be thinking, “Alright, we get it. Now play some songs.”

Hellfest, this colossal seven-day, 350-band, 420,000-ticket beast, was drawing to a close. Only one concert remained, the one moment we had found hard to believe for months. The festival grounds, which had been gradually filling up all day, were now packed to the limit. I hadn’t listened to Metallica in ages, but tonight, I felt like a giddy 15-year-old. About a month ago, James Hetfield had gotten emotional at a concert in Brazil, expressing his fear of looking like an old man on stage and not being able to play the guitar. I thought to myself, maybe his fears were justified. After all, we’d been witnessing gods of metal age and lose their skills over the past few days.

And then Metallica started. Of course, the world’s richest band turned the festival stage into a stadium concert. The stage was rich, elegant, and impressive, with flames, explosions, and the latest lighting and visuals that money could buy. And there they were. No signs of aging! The guys on stage looked as if they hadn’t aged a day since I last saw them eight years ago. The concert kicked off with “Whiplash.” I’d love to say the crowd went wild, but despite being quite close to the stage, the audience was oddly unresponsive. Maybe we Middle Easterners were hungrier for concerts, but come on, you guys just came out of a pandemic! Didn’t you miss this?

James focused on the set for the first few songs, with minimal interaction, but during the solos, he had some warm moments with the front row audience. Eventually, the banter started. He introduced a song from “St. Anger” with a thumbs-up, then turned it down. “How do you like this album? Not so much?” His self-deprecating humor and still playing “Dirty Window” was a show move. Meanwhile, I couldn’t take my eyes off Kirk Hammett’s “The VVitch” T-shirt with a Black Phillip print. Now that’s worth 40 euros.

The setlist was an unbroken parade of hits. “One” entered with an overly dramatic intro, delivering in one minute what Sabaton dedicated a career to (I might be fixated on Sabaton). “Master of Puppets,” the masterpiece that re-entered the Spotify Top 50 thanks to Stranger Things, enraging gatekeepers, was the closing song. To know Metallica is to love Metallica. This feeling is the best in the world. Whether you’re a metalhead or a normie, you don’t need permission to feel this passion. Everyone will taste Metallica someday. Not just James, but everyone showed how hard they had worked. Forget mistakes; they exceeded expectations. We realized James had pushed his vocal performance to the next level, perhaps to avoid falling short.

The band has already started sharing their footage from the stage on YouTube. As I write this, “No Leaf Clover” and “One” are live on Metallica’s channel. I’m not a classic Metallica disciple, but watch it yourself and decide who the world’s greatest band is. The concert ended. James, then Kirk, Rob, and Lars, each took the microphone to thank the audience and express their happiness to be there. They spoke with a stuttering excitement as if they were giving their first big concert. It was incredibly sincere. Whoever they are, don’t doubt for a second that they do this because they love it.

On Monday morning, as we packed up our camp, I wasn’t filled with sadness for the first time. For the first time, I focused on having experienced it, not that it was over. These few days provided the benefit of six months of therapy. I hope everyone who dreams of such an experience gets to make it a reality.

Bahar Heper