Volbeat – home turf is not always an advantage

Volbeat was probably the most debated name on this year’s poster.

The credentials are impeccable. Gold and platinum records, sold-out arenas, the biggest festivals in the world, and a back catalogue packed with singalongs. On paper, it should have been a no-brainer.

But it did not quite feel that way.

After only a few songs, a fair number of people in the crowd started drifting toward Henret at Gehenna. Not because Volbeat were playing badly. Quite the opposite.

They delivered exactly the show they had promised.

Michael Poulsen’s distinctive voice was instantly recognisable from the first line, the band played with confidence, and they know every trick in the stadium-rock playbook. Maybe a little too well.

At times, the concert felt like an arena show that had simply been moved to Refshaleøen. Even when Johan Olsen joined them twice and earned a huge cheer, the home advantage never quite came into play. Michael Poulsen almost seemed too big to be playing at home.

Then there is the eternal Volbeat debate. How much can you lean on the big crowd-pleasers? Some loved them. Others stood there with their arms folded.

The concert’s best moment came when Martin Leth from Strychnos joined them on Evelyn. Volbeat called him Denmark’s best growler, and it was hard to disagree. Suddenly, the show got the metallic kick several people may have been missing.

And then the rain came.

After the festival’s hottest day, the sky turned black, the storm rolled in, and the concert had to be cut short. Symbolic, metal, or just appallingly bad timing? That is for each person to decide.

The booking was still absolutely right. Copenhell had to try Volbeat. The fact that it split the crowd so sharply only made it more interesting.

★★☆☆☆☆

Social Distortion – three chords and plenty of weight

Some bands no longer need to prove anything.

Social Distortion is one of them.

Mike Ness did not look remotely like a 64-year-old man. He looked more like Tom Hardy, if Tom Hardy had spent the last 40 years playing West Coast punk.

Three chords, plenty of attitude, and a neat shirt. Apparently that is all it takes.

The band repeatedly challenged the crowd to sing louder and fill more space, and of course there were a few comments about Donald Trump too. When you have made your living as a punk band since the early 1980s, it would almost be strange not to take a swipe at power now and then.

The set was rocking, honest, and stripped of all fuss.

It may have been a little niche for parts of the audience, but it was still impressive to see a band whose heyday lies decades behind them still carrying so much charisma and relevance.

The scorching heat may have taken the edge off the party.

But not the soul.

★★★★☆☆

Katla – love, Satan and a knight’s castle

There is a volcano in Iceland called Katla. And a famous, very dangerous papier-mâché dragon.

Luckily, a slightly more peaceful version was standing on Helviti.

The Copenhagen trio had just returned from a long European tour and seemed red-hot. They had built their own knight’s castle on stage, and behind them stood the words "Love & Satan". A combination that somehow made perfect sense.

The best thing about Katla is really how little they try.

No big gimmicks. No over-explaining.

Just music.

Drummer Rasmus Bang looked for all the world like an ordinary Copenhell guest who had been picked up straight from a food stall and placed behind the kit. He played with enormous ease, sang at the same time, and made the whole thing look irritatingly effortless. The Phil Collins trick still works, then — even when the tempo is significantly higher.

Bassist Theis Stenberg Thorgersen also delivered vocals that changed the mood of the concert dramatically every time he took over.

The band knew how to pace the energy. They let the songs do the work, and the dark, simple weight filled all of Helviti.

Not quite as ascetic as a Dying Fetus show.

But close.

★★★★★☆

Saturday’s other highlights

Alestorm did exactly what Alestorm always does. Pirates, party vibes, and a crowd that seemed utterly unconcerned with whether they sang in tune, as long as they sang loudly.

Saxon once again reminded everyone why classic heavy metal never really goes out of style. Routine can be a virtue.

Reflection – See you in hell

Four days.

About forty concerts.

A heatwave, dust storms, wrestling, battle jackets, draft beer, and a thunderstorm that shut the festival down on the hottest day of the year.

Copenhell has long since become much more than a metal festival.

It is a place where you can see the world’s biggest metal bands, a Danish trio with a cardboard knight’s castle, wrestling between sets, and surprisingly good food — all without losing the sense that the music is still what matters most.

Perhaps the most striking thing is the audience.

People still look dangerous. But they rarely behave that way. Quite the opposite. Copenhell remains one of the most polite and safe festivals you can walk around at. People apologise in the mosh pit, help each other up off the ground, and toast with strangers as if they have known one another for years.

Fifteen years is no age for a festival.

But it is long enough to feel that Copenhell has found its identity. It dares to experiment, it dares to fail, and it still dares to book the names that get people arguing all the way home.

That may be the healthiest sign of them all.

See you in hell next year.

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