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Sweden Rock 2008

Sölvesborg, Sweden, 5th-8th June 2008

Welcome to Sweden, home of Vikings, trolls, blonde au pairs and heavy metal rock. This June, 35,000 metalheads, classic rockers, bikers, cyberpunks and babyglams descended on the peaceful town of Sölvesborg for three days of metal mayhem (or four if you happen to have a ticket for the Wednesday Scando band special).

Torsdag

We arrive on the Thursday to clear blue skies, glorious sunshine and a dusty campsite filled with happy, tanned people ready to rock (when they're not chilling out in their paddling pools or queuing up for the sole plug socket so they can straighten their rigid hairsprayed Mike Monroe barnets). Oh, and remarkably clean toilets, I might add, which - get this - stayed that way all weekend!

Heading for the festival site, we just catch the end of a down and dirty set from Kentucky rockers Black Stone Cherry before making our way over to the Festival stage to see ex-Skid Row vocalist Sebastian Bach – who, in typical flighty fashion, has failed to turn up. Still, we enjoy the substitutes, Bonafide, a Swedish band who mix the guitar driven swagger of Aerosmith with the cheeriness of Thunder (minus the 'na na nas' – they really need to work on that) and so are perfect for a sunny summer afternoon.

Metal is forever – and so is Thin Lizzy…

Primal Fear are another perennial festival favourite, their Priest-lite brand of metal continuing the upbeat mood. Baldy-heided vocalist Ralf Scheepers is in top form as he belts out the numbers, ending with what's to be the first of many fine metal anthems this weekend, 'Metal Is Forever'. Hooray!

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And so the afternoon's heat mellows into evening coolness to the lilting Celtic rock of Dare. Vocalist Darren Wharton was once a member of Thin Lizzy, and you can see the influences of the seminal Irish band in Dare's melodic, keyboard laden harmonies. And the guest appearance by Lizzy guitarist Brian Robertson for a rousing rendition of 'Jailbreak' kinda gives the game away an' all…

Who is Nostradamus?

We skip prog faves ELO in favour of the cheesy joys of the rock disco in the Gibson tent before progressing to the main stage for tonight's headliners, British steel warriors Judas Priest. Clad in a long silver hooded cloak and leaning on a wizard's staff, metal hero Rob Halford opens the set with the title track from the band's new album, Nostradamus, before ripping through a greatest hits package including a rousing 'Breaking the Law', 'Painkiller' and of course 'Hell Bent For Leather', complete with motorcycle. Can it get any more rock? We'll see…

Fredag

We kick off Friday in the company of Danish symphonic prog metallers Royal Hunt, whose epic set widdles its way to us across a Scandinavian sea of keyboards and close harmonies. And hey, they have backing singers.

California sunshine

Following are cool Californians Tesla. A superb live band, they get the hit single 'Signs' out of the way early doors before treating us to a storming set of bluesy Aerosmith-esque rock and country acoustic that goes down a treat in the afternoon sun. Lead singer Jeff Keith is a lean streak of leathery jerky, a laid back avatar of Iggy Pop using every inch of the stage to spread the sunshine.

Maiden Sweden

As the afternoon wears on, we give ex-KISS axeman Ace Frehley a miss and check out the Maiden offering in the Sweden Rock Battle of the Tribute Bands. Complete with their own Eddie effigy and a very dodgy selection of wigs, Iron Made'em capture the epic power of early Maiden fairly well, particularly 'Bruce Dickinson', who has the legendary vocalist's stadium mannerisms down to a T.

Hanoi Rocks forever

Next up, the moment I've been waiting for: Hanoi Rocks. The Finnish glamsters were born to play festivals, filling the Rock stage with feather boas and glitter, Mike making his usual mess of his mic stand, Andy throwing carelessly perfect shapes like the raddled rock pro he is, 'new' boys Conny Bloom (in a marvellous, massive, floppy purple velvet hat) and AC Christell duck walking and dancing and having a ball. The set is the same as last time I saw them (too much new stuff still not taking the shine off the excitement of the old stuff) but who cares when you're in the presence of the epitome of glam?

Slip of the scalpel

Mike Monroe may have a funny rubber face, but it's nothing in comparison to the strange stretched mug now sported by Whitesnake's David Coverdale. Perhaps he didn't walk into the plastic surgeon holding a picture of Marti Caine, but it's certainly what he walked out with, lips stretched so tight across gleaming white gnashers he can barely open his mouth to sing. Okay, so maybe I'm being overly harsh (you think?) but somehow the band just didn't do it for me, which was rather disappointing.

And the bands played on…

Saxon, however, more than made up for any let down. The perfect festival band (even if they do insist on playing those pesky new songs), they really deliver the goods tonight. Highlights of the set come in the form of an exuberant '747', 'Wheels of Steel' and a final, triumphant 'Denim and Leather', Yorkshire wizard of rock Biff Byford holding the crowd in the palm of his hand.

Staying in Yorkshire, Sheffield working class heroes Def Leppard round off the evening with a rousing greatest hits set that takes in everything we want to hear, from 'Rocket' via the achingly gorgeous ballad 'Love Bites' (and a cover of David Essex's 'Rock On') through to a flamboyant rendition of 'Pour Some Sugar On Me' and 'Let's Get Rocked'. As slick and professional as ever, their sound is as big and full as a poodle perm and just as much fun. Do you take sugar? I do now…

Lördag

Remember Lizzy Borden from The Metal Years? Well, they're still around, still peddling their bargain basement KISS bag of tunes and trotting out that rather crap cover of 'Born To Be Wild', although now they dress up as monsters, which is fun. They get the crowd going pretty well, considering they're on at midday in the sweltering sun – in fact, if the eponymous lead vocalist could actually sing, they might be quite good. Oh well…

Cello baby

The afternoon sees us in the elevated company of heavy metal cellists Apocalyptica, without a doubt the most innovative band on the bill. And who knew the cello could rock so hard? Wielding the pompous classical instruments like Jimi Hendrix wields an axe, they tear into a mix of gorgeous melodic string sounds and head down, headbanging thrash, throwing in a few of their trademark Metallica covers for good measure.

Their version of David Bowie's 'Heroes' is fab, while the ballad 'Bittersweet', co-written with members of The Rasmus and HIM (for the full Finnish effect) makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. A rip-roaring metal version of Greig's 'Hall of the Mountain King' followed by 'Nothing Else Matters' and 'Enter Sandman' bring the show to an awesome ending.

Follow that if you can, Blue Öyster Cult. Well, as far as we're concerned they can't, so after hearing 'Burnin' For You' we give up, to return an hour or so later to check out Ratt.

Ratt trap

'Why aren't you a Ratt fan?' Ian asks. 'They're the most you band on the planet.' Very good question. Somehow when I was a teenager I never got into Ratt, a gross oversight I'm about to put right, converted by their deliciously sleazy set of pure unadulterated West Coast cock rock. Reformed just last year after the usual grunge-induced '90s and early noughties wilderness years, they're looking lean and mean, clad in black, ready to attack and sounding great. Oooh yeah…

Rock the night

Ratt over, we head to the Gibson tent to catch HappyPill, the new, Stockholm-based band formed by ex-Alice guitarist Ryan Roxie. Used to having a whole stadium to play to, Ryan is larger than life and full of beans on the small marquee stage here, leaping around like a loon and regaling the audience with so much banter there's barely time to play any songs. The songs themselves are unlikely to set the world on fire, but are fun nonetheless. And guess who their special guest is? Brian Robertson, of course, for a rousing rendition of 'Jailbreak'… déjà vu?

Irish doom metallers Primordial prove to be surprisingly melodic, although their huge, bald, painted lead singer is a bit of a scary dude, like Henry Rollins dressed up for Hallwee'en.

So it's back to the cosy confines of the Gibson tent to check out Swedish glamsters H.E.A.T. Not for this '80s-tastic mob of poodle haired posers the sleazy bandwagon of the Crüe/Ratt/GN'R West Coast glam revival; instead they're taking us back to the heady days of Europe and 'Runaway' era Bon Jovi. With their unashamedly cheesy, infectiously joyful Euro rock pop, they're the most fun you can have in a tent with your spandex clothes on.

I want action

And finally it's over to the Festival stage for the original LA hair metal candyfloss rockers, Poison. Before a big screen showing a medley of old video clips and 1950s cheesecake porn and a bank of fireworks and explosions, the band strut their stuff as if they're never been away. Bret may look a little rubbery and stout these days, and Rikki's definitely had a pie or six, but CC is looking remarkably good, tanned and fit and healthy, with teeth as white as, well, David Coverdale's, while Bobby seems to have weathered the years fairly well too.

Firing up with the title track from their debut album, Look What The Cat Dragged In, they've no new album to plug (aside from recent covers fest Poison'd) so are happy to give us what we want: hit after hit of sublimely simple, glamorous, good time rock'n'roll.

'I Want Action', 'Ride the Wind', 'Cry Tough', 'I Won't Forget You', 'Fallen Angel' and 'You're Mama Don't Dance' are the most fun you can have not in a tent with your spandex clothes on, while it's lighters out for Bret's heartfelt magnum opus, 'Something to Believe In' and the classic ballad 'Every Rose Has Its Thorn'. Just a shame about the extended geetar and drum solos really…

They finish up with my absolute favourite 'Talk Dirty To Me', then return to put a smile on our faces that will stay there for a week with the ultimate rock'n'roll anthem, 'Nothin' But A Good Time'. If wantin' a good life is such a crime, they'll have to take Poison away – and 35,000 rock fans with them.

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