Dumpy

Elixer

New York Dolls

Marseille

Onslaught

Rogue Male

Saracen

Tysondog

Witchfynde

Hard Rock Hell 3: The Vikings Ball

Prestatyn, Wales (2009)

This was the last festival to round off this year and quite a curiosity it was for many reasons. Firstly, even with the cancellations of Cloven Hoof and Rock Goddess, HRH had assembled a mighty array of NWOBHM bands on Sat that even I’d missed out seeing when I was a kid so catching them together all at one event was an absolute must! Secondly, it had been a while since I’d visited a British rock festival as I’d all but given up hope on something like this even existing when compared to the likes of Wacken, Sweden Rock or Hole In The Sky, so I was curious to see how this one would pan out. Thirdly, I’d never been to a Pontins resort so I’d never experienced a ‘Hi-Dee-Hi- Campers!’ holiday - though throughout my life it has been portrayed to me as the cheesy bane of all British culture. And then there was the weather. North Wales in the winter with the Irish Sea battering away was enough for anyone not in Air Sea Rescue to think twice about. All these things dwelt in my mind as I apprehensively boarded the train outta London.

3 Hours Later.....

“Ooooh, there’s no Welsh people in Prestatyn mate - it’s fulla Scousers, Mancs and Stokies - but the Welsh are horrible anyway”. Yiiiiikes, what the hell had I gotten myself into?! As the Mr Bubbly security guard gleefully greeted me I wondered if I would ever step foot outta this place that was designed like a cross between a theme park and McDonalds. Truth be told though, it was a bloody good choice as the entire resort including a supermarket, amusement arcade and all 3 stages (each with its own bar too) were all interconnected without the need to step outside straight into a gale or a snow storm.

DUMPY’S RUSTY NUTS were fuckin unbelievable! Firstly I still couldn’t believe that gawd bless his soul, ol’ Dumpy was still alive and even more amazing, still kicking it out with his brand of Brit blues biker pub rock. And clearly I wasn’t the only one! He’d packed out the 3rd stage (which in fact was the Queen Victoria pub - yes, there’s a traditional British pub connected to the resort) so much that the crowd was spilling outta the doors. When I saw him in the 80s he was sporting a biker handlebars ‘tache but that’s now grown into a ZZ Father Christmas beard that would’ve had Bin Larden positively green with envy. “Who’s that fat bastard?! I ain’t no fat bastard, I’m a handsome fat bastard!!” as Dumpy gets the crowd revved up before launching into his classic ‘Boxhill Or Bust’ with the crowd soon hollering to the chorus “..I’m happy when I’m riding me horse, I’m happy when I’m riding me horse!!..”. Tell you what mate, Dumpy knows how to get a knees up going doesn’t he with songs like ‘Hot Lover’, ‘Got To Be Blues’, and a searing rendition of ‘Baby Please Don’t Go’. And if that wasn’t enough, I was virtually splitting my sides as he got the crowd to Buddha chant ‘..ah oom..’ to the trippy Hawkwind tribute ‘Cross Keys’. Yes indeed, Dumpy is indeed alive and still warbling.

Talk about a hard act to follow and TYSONDOG’s vocalist Clutch Carruthers was visibly nervous and already sweating given the bulk of the crowd were already shifting off (to see Girlschool I was later told) as he said in his strong Geordie accent ‘..I cannae believe it, you’d haveta be mad not to like him...’. But these guys needn’t have worried cos the ‘dog were tight mate, heavy and thrashing just the way I like it from ‘Blood Money’ complete with twanging bass to the speed of ‘Dark Soldiers’ to the power drumming ‘Hammerhead’ - yeah, the hair of the dog got to me alright, reminding me of my youth seeing northern English bands like Venom, Raven and Avenger. I hooked up with these guys backstage and even more to my amazement was that their drummer tonite was none other than Tony Bray i.e. Abaddon of Venom! Strewth, no wonder they only needed 2 rehearsals to sound this good!

MARSEILLE once again pulled another capacity crowd and it’s no wonder as these guys are NWOBHM legends. Arguably at the forefront of that movement having being the first to secure a recording contract (sadly with the ill fated Mountain Records) as well as a US tour (with Nazareth and Blackfoot in 1980), these guys had already been on the road with UFO, Whitesnake, Priest and Gillan when the demise of their label saw their opportunity snatched outta their hands. 25 years on and 5 divorces later but with their fire fully reignited, they’re back with their brand of hard rock with melody and a bit of sass as the likes of ‘Raise Hell’, ‘You’re A Woman’, ‘Rock You Tonite’ and ‘Are You Ready’ (from the new EP Fourplay) got the banner wielding crowd going - especially the wimmin folk to gruff n ready guitarist Andy Charters who was nudging out more than just with his guitar - like I said, divorcees! Big crowd pleasers and teasers, Marseille didn’t just have their music but also their looks still and even enjoyed a crowd rush at the end of their set. It could’ve been that stadium in Miami, Florida in June 1980.

SARACEN were another late 70s band that rode into NWOBHM - most notably with their acclaimed and now cult ‘Heroes, Saints and Fools’ album - only to be lost (ironically after finally receiving national airplay) and found occasionally in the mists of time as various small labels tried to spur their resurrection, albeit unsuccessfully. Now after 2 decades in retirement the band seem to have made a full resurgence with I believe original vocalist Steve Bettney and Rob Bendelow on guitar. Playing a brand of heavy symphonic rock with high end vocals and keyboard harmonies (from the hidden fifth member behind the PA) kinda like a cross between Saxon and Magnum as judged by songs like ‘Meet Me At Midnight’, ‘We Have Arrived’ and ‘Follow The Piper’, some of which were a mixture of the two styles while others leaned more towards the pomp rock, although the closer ‘Crusader’ was a slow, anthemic opus with soulful vocals and epic guitars very much in the vein of Saxon’s own namesake song - and bizarrely as the house music cackled into the PA at the end it was none other than Saxon’s ‘Crusader’ !!!

ELIXIR continued the trend of lost bands although it’s arguable that these guys kept going a lot more possibly enjoying more interest thanks to the growth in power metal especially on the Continent, as well as a brief stint with Maiden’s Clive Burr (whom they still play benefit shows for). Fronted by a vocalist that was even more Biff than Biff the Saxon trend continued (makes you wonder how many bands these guys inspired) with Elixir’s brand of hard rock metal, which leaned towards the meatier end judging by the thundering rhythms to ‘Star Of Beshaan’, ‘Mindcreeper’, ‘Pandora’s Box’ and the speed trip of ‘Treachery’ which also featured some impressive lead work. A regular of The British Steel Festival’ for the last 3 years running, it’s no wonder when some consider their debut album “The Son Of Odin” to rank alongside Helloween’s “Keeper Of The Seven Keys Part II’ and Cirith Ungol’s “King Of The Dead”.

‘..How are all you metal motherfuckers? Get ready to rock n roll!..’ stated WITCHFYNDE’s Luther Beltz resplendent in stack platforms (and bursting at the seams) that would’ve had Slade suffering vertigo! With the classic line up complete with Montalo on guitar, Pete Surgery on bass and Gra Scoresby on drums, even Dumpy had showed up to give this cult band some friendly V sign salutes! Arguably the first band to prominently feature Satanic imagery and heavy occult lyrics, ironically there was nothing evil or even metal about their sound, which I’d describe more as ‘occult rock’ from songs like ‘Cloak And Dagger’, ‘Stagefright’ or ‘Stab In The Back’. Even when Beltz got the crowd to chant ‘..fuck..’ to ‘..give the band some tempo..’ before launching into their classic ‘Give ‘Em Hell’, I really didn’t feel I’d witnessed something awesome although the crowd at this larger stage would’ve clearly differed, as do many festival crowds around the world, where the band have enjoyed a cult resurgence of interest in them.

Next, I faced the dilemma of either catching legends Angelwitch, whom I’m confident of enough to put my own money on, or take a punt wiv ROGUE MALE, who I’d missed back in the mid 80s. I took a chance with the latter cos I’d always wondered about Jim Lyttle’s enigmatic blend of metal, punk and rock n roll all fused together with a ‘Mad Max’ futuristic look. At the time, they were indeed being pushed (by Music For Nations in the UK and Elektra in the US) as the next big thing and certainly their debut and in particular their follow up - “Animal Man” - were received well I seem to remember. Record and management wrangles ultimately took their toll so it’s easy to see who Jim dedicated ‘Screwed’ to tonite! Complete with a terminator ‘face’ - including red eye - he and the rest of Rogue Male were certainly animated and energetic as they cranked out ‘Crazy Motorcycle’, ‘Love Tough’ and ‘Danger Zone’ although his Americanised raps soon started to grate on everyone: afterall, this was Wales, Jim is Irish and Joe Elliott did it all to death back in the 80s. Most of all, I felt that their music lacked catchiness and passion within it, and along with their now dated futurewave look, ultimately failed to satisfy the main stage audience other than the pissheads.

After the damp squib of Rogue Male, and having already seen Demon at Sweden Rock this year, I figured I had nothing to lose by seeing WASP. Another band I’d seen back in the 80s when they first hit these shores, gone were Randy Piper (complete with smoking guitar), the excessive Chris Holmes (complete with blood, booze and heels) and outrageous stageshow (complete with torture victim ‘WASP Woman’). Only Blackie (who now looks like a cross between Elvira and Chucky) now remains and to all intents and purposes it’s a completely different band. In fact, it is a band and not a stageshow or outrageous antics anymore. WASP these days is about music and why da hell not when you’ve got power rockers like ‘On Your Knees’, ‘Wild Child’ and ‘The Real Me’? Talk about intense! Blacky was running around the stage eyeballing everyone and pointing an accusing finger to anyone not rocking whilst his bassist was just pounding his chest screaming ‘muthafucka’ at everything and anyone (except Blacky of course ha ha). Yeah, WASP were pumped and were gonna take the crown home tonite. Only a brief but moving respite for the ballard ‘The Idol’ which must rank in the HM classics dept and then they hammered in ‘Love Machine’ and even I went bonkers along with the crowd. Closing with the crowd chanting ‘I Wanna Be Somebody’, Blackie at last let out a thin confident smile. Conquest complete.

It was time for the final run around as Queensryche (or The Geoff Tate Band if you prefer), Onslaught and da Noo Yawk Dollz were all criss crossing each others sets. Although I’d shared a plane with QUEENSRYCHE once, I’d never seen them live ever. When their classic ‘Queen Of The Ryche’ EP came out it heralded a neo progressive sound to the cerebral rock genre started by the likes of Rush, Saga and Marillion with the theatrical dynamic provided by Geoff Tate (not withstanding his superb voice of course) and excellent musicianship. Still, neither of these were apparent immediately owing to technical problems delaying their set and Tate’s chords requiring several numbers before he was able to hit to those famed high notes. From songs like ‘Sea Of Tranquillity’, ‘The Whisper’ and ‘I Dream In Infra Red’, I got the impression of a band that had had considerable variation in its material and this was later confirmed to me by some of their fans who stated Queensryche had indeed been through many changes. Whilst I did enjoy Tate’s witty rapport with the crowd, I felt that this was a band that could only play to and thus only be appreciated by its fans. As such the small but dedicated crowd seemed to confirm this, in as much as despite being billed as such, Queensryche were not HRH’s true headliners, as WASP had already stolen the crown (not that I think Tate really cared for it as he already had his own).

With a plethora of stage hands wrestling to get pentagram backdrops in place, ONSLAUGHT were ready to do exactly that to the audience. I recognised the old faces of Gricey on drums and Nige Rockett on guitar (both of whom seemed to have traded body shapes since the 80s!) and when a possessed Sy Keeler ran onstage ‘The Destroyer Of Worlds’, ‘Metal Forces’ and the classic ‘Power From Hell’ brought it all home like they did once at the Hammy Odeon. Still playing proto thrash and comparable to the likes of Destruction or even Sodom, these guys were originally a punk band who grew their hair as they owed as much to Discharge as they did to Motorhead. With evil fuzz toned riffs, speed and a punk dirty sound, Onslaught brought the aggro to HRH, with Keeler rebelliously whipping up the crowd, so it was with great reluctance that I left their steaming set.

Given that my hotel guv’nor couldn’t stop raving about the NEW YORK DOLLS (being an old punk himself), these guys had been hyped by HRH and were indeed being whispered in hushed tones throughout the whole day as being the legendary ‘punk’ band to catch. Being a long time fan of Hanoi Rocks, who themselves were influenced by the Dolls (as was that Sammy Yaffa on bass?!), I got the impression that mebbe the crowd mistook what kinda ‘punk’ these guys were. We weren’t talking British punk as in the Sex Pistols here, but US punk that included Talking Heads, Blondie and Television. And the Dolls were a long way off from that pogo too, really being proto punk if you ask me. Sure enough, as ‘We’re All In Love’, ‘Cause I Sez So’ and ‘Vietnamese Baby’ were yanked and cranked with David Johansens sass and New York shuffle exuding offa the stage, the sullen faces walking off in a huff told me everything. True, a few of the ‘alternative’ people who’d showed up just for the Dolls tried to make a go of it but this wasn’t the 100 Club or some Lower East Side gin shop but a bloody Pontins in Wales! The Dolls put on a professional performance as I’d expect from NYCs equivalent of the Rolling Stones but man, was it a cold auditorium.

Once I’d worked out the weird exit route outta HRH and walked out into the freezing rain, I felt upon reflection that HRH was a brave step in the right direction for those wanting traditional rock and metal, as it has really no real place other than in jest on today’s modern festival platforms like Sonisphere or Download. It is arguable (as put to me once by the late Maurice Jones of MCP) that the downfall of the British festival owed much to the crowd’s steadfast demand for headline acts (of which there were only so many) and its failure to appreciate the range of bands on offer other than relegating them to that of glorified support, and not appreciating the festival for being an event in itself. In that respect HRH has created a notable and worthy event for the British Isles comparable to the smaller but more hardcore ‘true metal’ festivals like Headbangers Open Air and Keep It True, and as such I have no hesitation in recommending it as that.

-Shan Siva