Review: ‘Download 2010’ Festival – Mosh Pits, Down Pours and Heavy Rock n Roll


Taking to the sacred acres of Donington last weekend was Download 2010, the annual metal mass which this year raised hell in celebration of thirty years since the inaugural Monsters of Rock.

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Rather than present you with the squeaky clean side of stage perspective most recollections are offering this review comes straight from the bowels of the pit hoping to share the real festival experience.

So what did Download have up it’s sleeve this year to mark the occasion? The lineup itself was unworldly, recalling three decades of major league luminaries of rock history including the patriarchs of sex, drugs and rock n’ roll, AC/DC, who capped off the Friday night. Saturday was brought to a fiery close by first time Downloaders, revolutionary Yuletide chart toppers Rage Against The Machine before the ageless Aerosmith provided the grand finale on Sunday. It was a lineup that’s difficult to see being bettered in the coming years unless money really does start to sprout on trees. Rest assured with the bill we were treated to no expense was spared, so hats off to festival organiser Andy Copping for convincing the heavyweights to appear.

Whilst the tail end of the weekend was almost crippled by a merciless three hour downpour, the two thirds beforehand were elevated with scorching heat, while detrimental to those unprepared, provided perfect conditions for a rock festival.

A few setbacks meant my Friday was set in motion by metal-core titans Killswitch Engage whose extended slot was welcomed with open arms. Longtime favourites “Rose of Sharyn” and “Fixation On The Darkness” interspersed newer cuts in a savage set that saw the band in high, talkative spirits. Guitarist Adam Dutkiewicz especially stood out, adorning a cape and quipping one liners left, right and centre. “You people got a great weekend of drinking, f*cking and good music. I’ve only got one of those…drinking!” he joked before ripping into the drop-tuned riffing and dual leads of “The End of Heartache”. Frontman Howard Jones initiated what may have been the very first “wall of life”, a human motorway pileup as typically remorseless as expected, even with it’s more positive renaming.

A touching tribute to metal founding father Ronnie James Dio, who recently died of stomach cancer, introduced “Holy Diver” rightly ending their set with perhaps the most appropriate song of the entire festival. Audience members responded fittingly with a flow of crowd surfers flooding security like the Titanic in acknowledgement of Ronnie’s contribution to music. Chants of “Dio! Dio! Dio!” were heard everywhere as Killswitch realised that even having to name him was unnecessary.

With the task of opening for AC/DC was the heavy-duty flock of Them Crooked Vultures up next. For many (including myself) this was the first chance to witness the all star super-troupe on stage together for the first time. Bringing together the riff rental services of QOTSA main man Josh Homme, Foo Fighter Dave Grohl on the kit and pairing his rhythmic duties with Zeppelin bassist John Paul Jones, the project is what you’d imagine a watchable Celebrity Big Brother would be like if they strapped them up with instruments before locking them up.
The Vultures however surpass the clever marketing and strategical construction of most ‘supergroups’ in that first, there’s stability and second, they’re actually good friends who can make a hell of a good racket. So breathe a sigh of relief, this isn’t one of those “What if Meat Loaf fronted Slayer!?!”-type assemblies.

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The combined experience of the three adds to the natural effortlessness of a Mind Erasing performance that showcases their astounding ability and a chemistry that has to be seen to be believed. The crowd hung on every note as they pivoted like a pinball machine off into bluesy tangents, made space for endless ad-libbing before boomeranging back into a familiar album track, laying total faith in each other with such ease. The grooves of a reconstructed mammoth “Scumbag Blues” were lapped up by the audience after the carnivalesque second half of “No One Loves Me..” was a stomping mosh opportunity. The final swoop was “Mind Eraser, No Chaser” which saw Grohl lend his vocals whilst still beating the skins to a bloody pulp. If it wasn’t for the chants of “JPJ! JPJ!” and “Fresh pots!” interspersing each song the entire show could have oozed as a cohesive whole, such is the natural flow of TCV’s sound. Jones took to the keys to end the set as Josh ‘Too Cool For Words’ Homme decided to sit down and have a ciggie. “Man I love AC/DC!” he announced before the band’s final bow and it was time for the headliners.



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As everyone predicted, the Thunder from Down Under was a spectacle to rival the Superbowl. Recent “Black Ice” tracks were defrosted by a hot lashing of classics “You Shook Me All Night Long”, “Thunderstruck” and “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap”. Cackling frontman Brian Johnson was in a unsurprisingly sleazy mood as he prompted any female in attendance to flash some flesh. “Show ’em if you got ’em, girls!” he crooned, kicking off what would be a long lasting feature of the festival. Yep, tits on a screen, who knew 100,000 people could be so easily dumbstruck? (Although Hayley Williams‘ constant topless onscreen appearance was hilarious. If only Paramore had played! The abuse would be unimaginable)

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The remainder of AC/DC’s show was a feast for the eyes (and ears!). “Whole Lotta Rosie” featured a massive, inflatable Rosie straddling the “Rock ‘N Roll Train” crashing out of the stage, Johnson swung on a giant bell to ring out “Hells Bells”, “TNT” was…well, dynamite, and Angus Young indulged in what must have been a ten minute solo atop a podium whilst it rained white confetti. Over the top? Not when you’re AC/DC. And when you can do all this before “Highway To Hell”, it really says something. This could have happily ended any festival on earth but for Downloaders this year, it was just the beginning.

Day two and with constant planes overhead and “Butt scratcher!” call outs (both of which became insufferable by the end of the weekend) filling the twelve hour silence since the big power chords the previous night it was time for some yeehaw metal back at the ranch courtesy of Hellyeah. The super-group of sorts featuring Pantera and Damage Plan legend Vinnie Paul on drums and Mudvayne bruiser Chad Gray delivering his signature throaty belch were fierce in their brief set despite it being a little early to start moshing. It was the closing bluegrass metal twang of “Alcohaulin’ Ass” that was most effective from our hillside vantage point as the sun continued to beat down. From afar though I could see that there was more courageous souls than myself already braving the crop circles during the crunching buckaroo of “Cowboy Way”.

The unexplained scheduling cock-up on the main stage which saw Atreyu switch around with Flyleaf proved disasterous for some who turned up in the afternoon expecting some Californian metal-core and instead were greeted with the female vocal stylings of a Christian alternative outfit. Those who missed Atreyu weren’t best pleased and those gathering around the front for Flyleaf thought they’d pulled out when met the screeching Orange County mob instead.

Although bewildered at the muddle, I was fortunate to still catch Atreyu in action, who in spite of being in the best form with buoyant rockers like “Doomsday” and “Ex’s and Oh’s” were playing to a lifeless crowd of Flyleaf fans left scratching their heads. The same can be said for the metal horde who turned up next in a rage upon realising the band they’d woken up for had already played.

Warmed up by Atreyu it was a mad dash to the second stage next for some bottom end-heavy hardcore from Canadian rabble-rousers Cancer Bats.

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Simply put, it was a riot. The punk posse tore through one of the best performances of the entire festival which featured more surfing than the Gold Coast and vocalist Liam Cormier spend much of it amidst the crowd. “I know you’re all probably saving your energy for Rage” he said before swinging the metaphorical baseball bat into the brains of every fan with “Hail Destroyer”. The party really got started when he asked “Does anyone know the Beastie Boys?”, a question which prompted complete mayhem to the stabbing soundtrack of their “Sabatage” cover.

Lamb of God back on the main stage were no less bone-blending a prescription of self-described “Pure American Metal”. Randy Blythe commanded the biggest pit Donington has ever seen and he may well have got it as a monstrous grave-like opening unearthed and quickly filled with the opening blast-beats and riffs of “Redneck”.

A rather withdrawn and impassioned slot from thrash heroes Megadeth followed which while forking over Mustaine’s terrifying shredding ability seemed like just another day at the office for the ‘deth with little spoken words from the band. On the other hand with a set mashing recent Endgame tracks with Rust In Peace 20th anniversary classics and thrash hallmarks like “Peace Sells” and “Sweating Bullets”, why not let the songs do the talking?

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The crowd was more ready for dreamy metal mainstays Deftones who were bruising in a long set jam-packed with new material from this year’s Diamond Eyes album. This time it was chants of “Chido! Chido!” bookmarking nu-metal prototypes “My Own Summer” and “Be Quiet and Drive”. Chido pounced around the stage in great fitness, not mentioning the current state of their bass player Chi Cheng who, since 2008 has been in a semi-conscious state because of a car accident. Regardless, it was a performance that would have made the recovering bassist proud.

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Better at political protests than time-keeping, the township rebellion led by Rage Against The Machine kicked off so late there was civil unrest amongst the renegades in the audience. It wasn’t helped by an infuriating hip-hop loop playing over the PA that seemed to toy with us by stopping every so often leading people to believe Rage were upon us, only to have to wait longer. It may have even been a clever ploy by the LA crusaders in a bid to stir up some anger to be unleashed during their show.

Intentional or not, it worked. The opening iron fist was so furious Rage were made grind “People of the Sun” to a halt and tell the crowd to take a couple of steps back for our own safety as there’d already been casulties within the opening minutes. “Take care of one another!” beastly haired frontman Zack de la Rocha reiterated before shouted “Rewind!” as they took the Evil Empire track from the top.

The venom spitting vocalist was a more talkative mood than usual, referencing their Christmas number one triumph as well as laying into just about every government he could think of. “Know Your Enemy” was prefixed with a short monologue too, “It may not be about Simon Cowell but it’s about what he represents!” and with that Morello and his crew drove a wrecking ball through the 1992 track, laced with pit-ready riffs.

We were then treated to a searing cover of The Clash’s “White Riot” and with an entire covers album under their belt, it was a surprise to hear one that they hadn’t yet nailed in the studio. Let’s hope they decide to in time. A rare outing for the chord-morphing Kashmir rewrite “Wake Up” drew the pre-encore set to a close in a radical as ever fashion as thousands hunkered down and sprang up when the final blow came.
“Killing In The Name” as you’d imagine ended the Donington revolt brutally and will probably be burned into the memories of many for years to come – out of the two times I’ve seen Rage since they’ve reformed, this was superior by a mile.

The final day kicked off with some very out of place and archaic sounding post-grungy alternative from one of those turn of the century nu metal coat tail riders who now beg the question: who? Yes, it was Nonpoint.

Credit to them however, despite flogging that same old horse Linkin Park and Papa Roach long ago had put out of it’s misery, the Florida band were a refreshing break in that they were, well, easy on the ears with big melodic choruses and down-tuned riffs. It was all very formulaic and Fred Durst-y as you’d expect but at the same time had that nostalgic effect that maybe would have seen capital punishment on the main stage but for an early morning start on stage two it was more than tolerable.

Completing a triple whammy of 80’s revival, which thankfully I missed most of, was the groggy glamsters Cinderella. Indulgent and overblown as ever, most songs were too long and indistinguishable from one another. As someone else said, “Cinderella: proving not all classic rock is classic.” One song, only memorable for it’s length, moved from acapella to acoustic guitar, to piano, to over the top choruses and refrains with backing vocals and back again. It’s fair to say I only stood through this for what was on next: Slash.

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The top-hatted one in the whiskey-riddled flesh made his fourth appearance under his fourth moniker in a blinding (not just by the sun) mid afternoon set which featured material spanning two decades. Hired Gun Myles Kennedy of Alter Bridge was phenomenal on vocals, making all four G’nR tracks his own as well as showcasing new material confirming Slash had indeed got back his Appetite. “Slither” from the Velvet Revolver days preluded a rollicking “Paradise City” which fittingly provided the last opportunity to mosh in the sunshine as the heavens above unleashed hell as soon as Slash drew to a close.

It wasn’t before I was able to catch the end of the latest ridiculous-but-somehow-works supergroup The Damned Things, comprising of Every Time I Die’s vocalist, Fall Out Boy’s rhythm section and Anthrax’s (yep) muscular guitar work. I really wish I’d seen more as the final bubblegum hardcore stomp of “We’ve Got a Situation Here” was simply the catchiest thing I’d heard all weekend. Frontman Keith Buckley might spend his day job exerting southern metal fury but here he shows his faultless ear for melody. Their debut album, out later this year, is bound to be a crossover hit.

Although the tireless rain herded fans away from both Motorhead’s mud bath (featuring a Slash cameo – returning Lemmy’s earlier favour) and Billy Idol’s greatest hits set, it only added to The Dillinger Escape Plan’s almost cinematic performance. Their unclassifiable slapdash of melodic math-metal and jazz-core soared to apocalyptic heights with Greg Puciato laughing off the monsoon. “It was too hot and dry before, f*ck the sun. That shit’s not rock ‘n roll.” The thrashing “Milk Lizard” was menacing but paled in comparison to a valiant “Farewell, Mona Lisa” which closed their short set with Greg ascending the sound system before dropping to the soaking ground, wailing into his microphone as if suddenly inhabited by some demented spirit he was trying to cast out. A definite weekend highlight.

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The grey cloud cast over Motorhead eventually cleared midway through Stone Temple Pilot’s alt. classics-packed folky grunge revival coup. Serpentine singer Scott Weiland was in impressive form, albeit absolutely plastered to such extent the crowd were pissing themselves over the nonsense he was spurting out. Perhaps he’d had a run-in with former Velvet Revolver band mate Slash, who’d surely been on the prowl having only come offstage one slot prior with Lemmy and co.

Weiland’s troll-eyed state aside, the sing-alongs were plentiful, coming thick and fast in the shape of hard-edged Generation X hymns “Plush” and “Sex Type Thing” spliced with grander soulful anthems “Interstate Love Song” and “Trippin’ In A Whole In A Paper Heart”. Weiland wielded the megaphone at the end of the catwalk, allowing legions of grungers voice the choruses of “Dead and Bloated”. A subdued ending saw the reformed ‘Pilots share the end of the walkway together one last time, before finally handing over the reigns for main event.

Sure enough, against all the odds Aerosmith in the full glory of a bulletproof original lineup blasted off with “Love In An Elevator” followed up with the equally sassy broncho-buster of “Back In The Saddle”.
The immortal Tyler and Perry ran the show, galvanising every note with irresistible blues licks and harmonica pomp. Tyler swayed and swaggered at the end of the walkway like a man forty years his junior, shooting down any doubt on his ability to perform. Of course, the stage had to be Tyler-proofed to steer clear of any stage falls but it was like he’d never taken the tumble at all with his fearless energy.

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Joe Perry on guitar was utterly mind blowing, employing a whole range of effects including some kind of kinetic distortion kit that left people’s jaws on the floor. I was impressed with how Aerosmith catered for a whole range of their fans by demonstrating their immense back catalogue of hits but also their instrumental ability on huge bluesy numbers like a cover of “Baby, Please Don’t Go”.

The stage show was an extravaganza, and rightly so given the mastered sprinkling of heavy hitters including “I Don’t Wanna Miss A Thing”, “Dream On” and “Sweet Emotion”. An obligatory “Walk This Way” was as danceable as ever before the final nail in Download’s coffin arrived with “Toys In The Attic”. With that a satisfied Donington crowd departed for another year. It being my first, I was left asking myself “How could this ever be topped?” I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. But with the advert overkill across the weekend, my money’s on the Prince of Darkness headlining next year. You heard it here first.

(Words and pictures by Daniel Robinson)


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