Hellfest - Clisson, France - June 20-22 2014 (Live Review)

Ever since its monumental, game-changing motherlode of a line-up was announced last year, Hellfest was always going to be a bit special. For those who actually managed to snap up tickets, a weekend of sun, sweat and baguettes was in store at the annual French metal meeting.

Crossfaith draw in one of the most gargantuan crowds ever for a midday slot (and in 30ºC heat), rattling through a high-octane, flawlessly energetic set stacked full of rave-metal songs that will make any grown man jump up and shout 'tuuuuuuune!'. The band grab Hellfest by the bollocks and refuse to let go. They are going to be massive.

Nasty do a supreme job of obeying the law of onomatopoeia, crushing the Warzone stage with a staggeringly brutal dose of hardcore which, to be honest, nobody is really prepared for. Back on the main stage, Toxic Holocaust deliver a serving of goofy thrash that the crowd seems to lap up.

It's not cutting-edge or original in the slightest, but it's the perfect soundtrack to bang your head and neck beer to. The same goes for M.O.D.  Billy Milano's arsenal of crossover thrash tunes were never intended to change the world. It's all supremely silly, just like Milano's quip about most of the audience 'still being sperm' at the time of the band's 'Gross Misconduct' album in 1989.

Now, we all know it's good to be punctual, but Trivium take the piss a little bit. Rocking up seven hours early and swapping slots with the mighty Death Angel, the Floridian metallers churn out a cracking – if slightly uneven – set. Plucking material almost exclusively from their last two albums, their classic 'Ascendency' record is shunned save for the inclusion of the radio-friendly Dying In Your Arms. It seems odd that Trivium have opted to play an hour of their most accessible material at a festival such as this one, but by the time In Waves closes proceedings, nobody gives a shit. Matt Heafy's vocals are on top form and the band are such a tight unit – just maybe next time lose the dodgy 'Terminator' stage décor, yeah?

It's common knowledge that Rob Zombie's show at Download Festival last week wasn't the best, so the man has a lot to prove. Thankfully, he manages to sing in time tonight, kicking things off with the unbeatable trio of Dragula, Superbeast and Living Dead Girl. This is all well and good, but opening with his three most popular songs leaves casual listeners unable to sing along – except for when he covers Enter Sandman. No, we don't know why either. Thing is, the Zombie show has been carved in legend due to its epic scale, so to have him just stand on stage and play for an hour seems, well, normal.

Iron Maiden, however, are far from normal. Packing their monolithic 'Maiden England' stage show, you know what to expect when it comes to the Irons – classic tunes, various Eddie robots and Bruce Dickinson shouting 'Scream for me *insert venue here!*' Theirs are songs that defined a generation, being sung from the hearts of every man, woman and inebriated zombie in the field. It’s time to soak up the metal and appreciate the fact that they're playing Revelations instead of Afraid To Shoot Strangers.

Given what Slayer have been through in the last few years, you'd think they'd be attacking stages with a revamped level of vigour and intent. Sadly, they're not. The thrash overlords are at best mediocre, plodding through Raining Blood and War Ensemble with less enthusiasm than Roz from 'Monsters. Inc'.

Septicflesh have no such problems on the Altar stage, however. The Greek symphonic death metallers pick cuts entirely from 'Communion', 'The Great Mass' and newie 'Titan'. Ignoring almost two decades’ worth of material should be a car crash, but it's not.Anubis, Five Pointed Star and opener A Great Mass Of Death are just unstoppable.

Saturday rears its sweaty, sunburnt head as Of Mice & Men take the main stage. Frontman Austin Carlile rocks up looking absolutely knackered, but commands a punishing half hour of metalcore violence. New tunes like Public Service Announcement go down a treat, but it's a shame that Carlile doesn’t offer anything in the way of clean vocals; when bassist Aaron Pauley unleashes his luscious harmonies, you could be forgiven for thinking that he's the lead singer.

Lez Zeppelin do a terrible job of following up. Cover bands have no place on this bill, let alone one as painfully average as this one. We Came As Romans fail to stand out until they drop their cover of Glad You Came by the Wanted. They should be commended for this move, but they just go right back into the flurry of breakdowns we've become so accustomed to.

Clutch absolutely pack out the Valley stage as they blitz through an hour of rock 'n' roll perfection – they open with The Mob Goes Wild, for Christ's sake. Soulfly prove to be a real surprise. Max Cavalera still looks like he's been dragged through a bush and pissed on by a gang of badgers, but the man's still got it.

Bellowing his way through the nu-metal, thrash and death periods of the band, it becomes apparent just how good Soulfly's musical output actually is. Sepultura gems Refuse/Resist and Roots Bloody Roots are obvious highlights, but it's Max's rejuvenated energy (he even goes down the walkway, the sassy bastard!) that really makes this feel like an event.

Deep Purple put on one of the dullest, most excruciatingly long sets known to man – but it's ok! Aerosmith are here to save our souls. You know exactly what you're gonna get when it comes to bad boys from Boston – hit after hit after dirty hit. Nobody really cares when Joe Perry takes the microphone and starts in on a song from the latest album, but for the best part of two hours, Steven Tyler takes Clisson on an unabashedly awesome trip down memory lane.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, Avenged Sevenfold have set their sights on the future. After last week's immaculate headline performance at Download, the boys have little to prove. But they try anyway. This band is ready to headline festivals all over the globe. The singalongs to Nightmare and Afterlife actually surpass anything during Aerosmith's set, no mean feat, whether you like the band or not. Even stripped of their massive stage show, they still murder it. The only way is up.

Sunday finds a field full of metalheads roasting alive like bearded turkeys wrapped in leather, so nobody really gives In Solitude the time of day.  It's a shame, because their doomy dirges would suit British festival season perfectly. Crowbar give Hellfest the kick up the arse that's truly needed, with Kirk Windstein's gruff bellow waking up the few stragglers who seem to have fallen asleep under some trees.

Angra's power metal pomp is a testament to Hellfest's diversity. When would you see a band like this on the main stage at any other festival? They're not the most original thing in the world, but that's Alter Bridge's job – ever since their sophomore 'Blackbird' album, this band has exceeded expectations. Whether it be on record or live, Alter Bridge churn out some of the most refreshing, utterly invigorating rock music you could hope to find. They take the stage at five in the afternoon and leave as if they've just headlined.

In a world where death metal seems to be all about grimacing and looking hench as fuck while bashing your instruments, it's good to see the Black Dahlia Murder just going mental, jumping about and doing their thing. Opening gambit In Hell Is Where She Waits For Me and the fantastically titled Raped In Hatred By Vines Of Thorn showcase the strength of their latest masterpiece, 'Everblack'. If only Cannibal Corpse could be this fun.

Seeing Behemoth (pictured) lay waste to the main stage at eight in the evening is something that really should happen more often. The audience sings Blow Your Trumpets Gabriel for Adam 'Nergal' Darski, although nobody seems to have told him. The man roars into the mic with every shred of conviction he has within him, ploughing through the band's brutally blackened back-catalogue. It does look a little bit odd seeing Behemoth play in the sunshine, but it just feels so right. With the overwhelming success of 'The Satanist', one can only hope that this band will be gracing main stages across the world from now on. People need to see Behemoth.

With an ugly assault from a mob of hornets and the sun still working its wicked spell, it's about time to retire to the tent. But before that, the Misfits are on. We wish we'd just gone back to the tent. Jerry Only's gang of hired hands play a semi-shambolic hour of punk rock that puts their legacy to shame. The Danzig-era material is all over the place, everything seems to be sung in exactly the same key and Only's reliance on new songs becomes a tad annoying. It's fine, but compared to the high calibre of music on show at Hellfest this year, it's not good enough. Still, same time next year, Clisson?

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