As it happens, this is everything going down at Donington Park on the first day of Download Festival 2025.
Download Festival 2025 is go! Stay tuned to Kerrang.com for our reviews from each day of the fest and much more – let’s get stuck into all things Friday…
It’s perhaps not unreasonable to ask why it’s only now that Green Day are headlining Download for the first time. Decades of success, an illustrious arsenal of mainstream-defining hits, multiple albums considered staples of a rock fan’s coming-of-age years. They reach every cross-section of this audience, even where teenagers and their parents can watch them together. Still, after their best album in years in the form of last year’s Saviors, and a foul-smelling political climate that’s made American Idiot feel eerily more timeless, now’s as good a time as any.
It's an animated, all-killer set, where it’s rare for any time to go by without Billie Joe getting a “HEEEEEEEEEEY-OOOOOOOOOOH!” call and response going with the crowd. The hits everyone has committed to memory, from Basket Case, to Boulevard Of Broken Dreams, fit seamlessly with newer cuts Dilemma and One Eyed Bastard…
Read the full review: What happened when Green Day headlined Download Festival 2025
Ubiquitous as they've become in the metal world of 2025, it's difficult to overstate the ability of Apocalyptica to offer Something Completely Different in a festival environment. Spectacularly so. Despite Green Day tearing the proverbial house down well within earshot, a solid few thousand fans have crammed themselves under the cover of the Dogtooth tent, soaking up an old-school buffet of classic Metallica covers across three cellos and drums. Where the likes of their Blackened and Nothing Else Matters felt borderline gimmicky a couple of decades ago, these high-strung renditions have long since taken on a life of their own. Master Of Puppets is weirder, creepier and somehow more urgent than when offered up by Lars and the boys, while Seek & Destroy is miles more emotionally resonant. It is a pity we don't get One tonight (which would have been especially apt as ballistic missiles fall over the Middle East and the world teeters on its axis). But there are other levels of swagger, regardless, from musicians rooted in place by their unwieldy instruments, and an embrace of the absurdity of it all that belies far more intelligence and creativity than the 'Cover Band' tag suggests. After all, if it ain't baroque, why fix it? (SL)
Surprisingly, the Avalanche Stage is not a site of total carnage by the time McFly pitch up, unlike the mayhem that ensued when Busted were in this slot this time last year. Maybe some were burned by experience after being caught in a gridlock outside, but nonetheless, it’s predictably busy. After blaring through a couple of newer songs – opener Where Did All The Guitars Go? proving ironic when there’s a significant number of guitars per capita at Download – the atmosphere becomes electric when they play Star Girl, and everyone immediately unlocks their memories made in their adolescent bedrooms. Followed by the titanic Obviously and One For The Radio, the tent becomes a hive of wholesomeness, even if McFly attempt to give themselves a harder edge than they can get away with (and their brief snippet of Killing In The Name, of all songs, sounds almost too innocent). “I thought I was listening to Busted’s new album… it was just the sound of me shitting my own pants,” jokes vocalist and bassist Dougie Poynter. Still, their catchy hits scratch the itch for nostalgia easily, and it’s undeniable fun. (EW)
Sleep Token's Vessel might think he's got the 'best shoulder pads at Download' sewn up already, but Eivør has something to say about that. Wrapped in a magnificent black cloak with a collar of crow's feathers, she feels like a bundle of contradictions. Odin-meets-Lana Del Rey? Absolutely! Part Poppy, part Swans? You bet! Sigur Rós with a dash of Slayer? Well, yes! Listening to sprawling, layered compositions like Jarðartrá and Trøllabundin with Green Day's four chords and the truth bleeding through in the background is a somewhat discombobulating experience. But by the time she gets to tugging heartstrings with stunning English-language closer Falling Free, it's clear she's beyond such derivative comparisons. An artist quite unlike any other here this weekend. (SL)
If ever a band was tailor made, genetically engineered even, to headline this stage, Within Temptation are it. One of those sets that seems to flow past in minutes, it’s delectably wrought classic after classic, deeply felt emotion coursing through symphonic rock at its finest, and undoubtedly it has to rank among the Dutch band’s finest hours. The big moments are intense, and profoundly felt – Bleed Out, Faster, Shot In The Dark, Lost, The Reckoning. The band, in particular their impassioned leader Sharon den Adel have made it their business to stand up for the people of Ukraine in recent years. They’ve no particular need to do this, but caring about other people is just what good people do. Their classic Stand My Ground is dedicated to Ukraine and to freedom, and it’s a moment, frankly, that no-one who adores his band will ever forget. That’s before Sharon dedicates the scintillating, curvaceously hooked Supernova to “my dad, up in Heaven”. Not a dry eye… (SB)
Surrounded by tall grass and gorgeous wooden sculptures, Alcest transform the Dogtooth stage into the cover of their excellent seventh album Les Chants de l'aurore – The Songs Of The Dawn. We're closer to dusk at Donington, but the shift towards a wan glow in the sky and a cooling of the sweltering earth creates the perfect atmosphere for ethereal compositions like Améthyste and Protection to unfurl: all poignantly probing rhythms, ghostly melodies and passages of transcendental wonder. Up against Weezer, McFly and – probably most pertinently – symphonic metal giants Within Temptation, there are nowhere near as many souls in attendance as the French blackgaze pioneers realistically deserve, but those who do turn out are enveloped in one of the most powerful performances of the day. Proof, if needed, that even after all these years their gentle light is still on the rise. And a reminder that even in the darkest times, la vie est belle. (SL)
“What a beautiful day,” smiles Rivers Cuomo with a knowing wink. “Is it always like this in England?” You know it isn’t, but it’s very much in Weezer’s favour. As the aperitif to Green Day, on a gorgeous evening such as this, in front of a massive crowd, Weezer are a slam-dunk. Mostly. Diving straight in with Hash Pipe, there’s sing-alongs from the get-go, as they fulfil their reputation of one of the world’s finest festival bands. Ditto for In The Garage and My Name Is Jonas (a pair that make them the only band here with two harmonica parts). Beverly Hills gives a ‘Living in Donington Park’ nod, while Undone (The Sweater Song) finds them chatting about the Yorkshire pudding stands. When it’s like this, they remain untouchable. But they oddly opt for a sagging section toward the end, with Only In Dreams proving a particularly long, drawn-out affair. This is all forgiven as they wind things up with the inevitable Buddy Holly, and the sky fills with ‘W’ hand signs. Not always perfect, but their bullseyes are still the best in the business. (NR)
Thirty-minute festival sets aren't the best places to soak in the majesty of Vola. Faced with a half-empty tea time tent, flagging fans and a patchy mix, the Copenhagen prog-metallers could be forgiven for letting their heads drop or phoning it in. Delightfully, they go hell for leather instead. Cranking already-colossal compositions like Stray The Skies and Straight Lines to their horizon-scraping maximum spans, they have the Dogtooth canvas rattling off its supports through sheer elemental force, with bodies hurtling across the pit and over the barrier to some of the chunkiest riffs of the weekend. It's the transcendental ability to wield beauty hand in hand with carnage that elevates this set to another level, though, as a climactic 24 Light-Years raises voices and goosebumps with a defiant sing-along for the ages. Esoteric excellence. (SL)
Fancy a trip back to 2008? The Avalanche Stage is becoming a time machine as Elliot Minor make their nostalgia-fuelled comeback after what vocalist and guitarist Alex Davies terms a “pretty long holiday” – one that lasted over a decade. Years may have passed, but the sense of earnestness behind their thoughtful melodicism remains unaltered, as does the misty-eyed enthusiasm of the people who have shown up. The spirited The White One Is Evil receives, predictably, a huge cheer, which is eventually dwarfed by the time they close with big hitter Parallel Worlds. It's all about looking backward, but, really, for those here, that's all they need right now. (EW)
“I promise it isn’t my fault; I haven’t turned into a complete diva,” says Opeth frontman Mikael Åkerfeldt by way of explanation for his band’s late appearance, nearly 20 minutes behind schedule. “You hear that hum? It’s annoying as fuck.” These rightly revered overlords of progressive metal from Stockholm have come a long way to play just four songs, and while Mikael attempts to make light of it, you sense the frustration. It was always going to be a challenge to make doom-laden shadow and epic song sculptures translate to a sunny afternoon, but nothing compared to this. Master’s Apprentices is hypnotic in its dark dexterity while In My Time Of Need showcases their more contemplative side – both aural black holes for the faithful to revel in. But it’s over in no time. “Sorry everything was so short,” Mikael shrugs, “but you can always fall back on McFly.” (SB)
Easing into an afternoon built around gargantuan summer anthems from across the pond, Jimmy Eat World’s undeniable brand of emo-inflected alt.rock is the perfect soundtrack for the Friday tea time slot. With the ageless Jim Adkins surveying the sunburnt masses in front of him, the Arizona veterans make a long overdue return to the main stage of Donington look positively effortless. A rabble-rousing Pain gives way to an hour of career-spanning greatest hits, from Big Casino to Bleed American (emphasis very much on the sweat in the chorus), to a perennially joyous The Middle that still hits with all the gusto it did a quarter of a century ago. No messing about, just a masterclass in rock’n’roll revelry. Come back soon, lads. (LM)
“This is the first and last time you’ll see us at Download,” announces Serena Cherry, “we’re breaking up next year.” But as a one-and-done visit, you couldn’t have asked for much better than what Svalbard give Donington this afternoon. And as sad as it is that the Bristol metal crew are calling it a day, there’s an odd feeling of joy and celebration as they tear through Faking It and a virulent Open Wound, as well as a particularly gripping intensity. Serena’s fist-in-the-air style of ringleading makes her look like she’s living out every rock star fantasy she’s ever had, with a massive grin on her face, while fellow singer and guitarist Liam Phelan screams with the urgency of a man on fire. If you want to know what the world is losing, today Svalbard show the very best of themselves. What a band. (NR)
Crossfaith are blazing back into life. After the departure of their bassist Hiroki Ikegawa left their foundations wobbling, with many of their 2024 commitments cancelled, vocalist Kenta Koie announces that they have entered “our second chapter”. The Japanese metallers look every inch a band renewed, burning with determination, their every riff sounding like a snarl from their instruments. While keyboardist Terufumi Tamano busies himself with jumping into the crowd and necking Jägermeister straight from the bottle, Kenta’s vocal power is a thing of awe, and he is never satiated by the size of the mosh pits that open up. “I can’t hear you motherfuckers!” he roars, even when the crowd before him are cheering wildly. This is a real moment of victory – and one of the day’s unexpected highlights. (EW)
The most dedicated of Trophy Eyes fans have all made the trek across the Download to give the Australian pop-punkers the most open hearted of welcomes. “Give yourself a round of applause for giving a fuck about a band like ours,” remarks ever-earnest vocalist John Floreani, who at six-foot-six and dressed in blinding white, is an unmissable presence. The heartfelt Blue Eyed Boy gets immediate roar alongs right from the first line, while ONW is a gigantic moment of morbid jubilance and Heaven Sent brings in a tide of catharsis among the devotees down the front. Awed by the reaction, John repays us with some witty life advice. “Brush your fucking teeth. Call your mum. Tell your friends you love them. Feed your pets before you feed yourself. Put your Charlie back where it came from.” It's a moment of levity in a set that is the perfect opportunity to unlock and expel the shit that has been weighing you down. Sing along with Trophy Eyes as loud as you can, and you will come away feeling lighter. (EW)
Doom has always done surprisingly well at Download – Electric Wizard, Cathedral, Witchsorrow. So it is that an impressive crowd have gathered for Virginia low-end titans Windhand this afternoon. Their slow, sludgy riffs may not be the most obvious thing for a big stage like this, but in the oppressive heat, there’s a desert-y vibe in the air – as well as the scent of the huge bundle of incense stuck in the back of guitarist Garrett Morris’ amp – that makes their otherworldly jams fit perfectly. And now expanded to a five-piece with two guitars, they’re twice as thick and tar-like as they were before, and makes singer Dorthia Cottrell sound even more like her vocals are being beamed some some other, ethereal dimension. Twenty five minutes onstage means they’re done far too soon, but they leave a heavy imprint nevertheless. (NR)
He steps out, beaming and tapping his heart in response to the warm reception. Myles Kennedy is one of rock’s good guys, and one of its consummate professionals. Frontman for both Alter Bridge and at various times Slash’s band, his voice is – at 55 – as commanding as ever. “It’s the 20th anniversary of my first time playing here with Alter Bridge,” he tells us, flashing that grin, “and some of my best memories are from here.” His solo material, sombre as it often is, is performed jauntily, with apparent joy and ease. Myles not only impresses with that immediately identifiable voice but plays all guitar parts, even some gleaming slide. Deep cut Behind The Veil, played mid-set, could almost have been an Alter Bridge song. He signs off by asking us to applaud his wife for letting him out to play on their anniversary. Thanks, Selena! (SB)
“Prepare your feet to be lifted off the ground as we deliver the secret of the true antidote!” Bobby Nerves, impossible to miss in a bright red blazer, delivers several grandiose speeches between bursts of the Essex rockers’ fashionably retro punk’n’roll. This is not mere posturing though – his band have the conviction and the commitment to their sound to pull it off. Don't Stop is fast and furious, You’ve Got The Nerve is a shot of high-octane, jiveworthy fun and USA is all the right kinds of big and silly, all while Bobby is a blur of constant movement. They harness the sort of vintage, chain-smoking-and-sunglasses-indoors rock star cool that seems close to extinction, and it gives them a captivating presence on the stages where they thrive. (EW)
“Six times, that’s what they tell me…” grins Tim McIlrath, explaining that before Rise Against’s set today, someone had surprised him with a comment on how often the Chicago punk legends have visited Donington throughout their 25-year career. “I think the sixth time’s the charm – you can put it on record, this is the best fucking Download Festival!” Hell yeah, it is. Opening with Re-Education (Through Labor) the quartet get into the swing of things instantly, unleashing rockets of pyro in front of a striking red banner. They dedicate a rousing Give It All to Boston Manor who played right before, and later shout-out Jimmy Eat World ahead of the always-powerful Satellite. But it’s not just about bigging up their pals: Rise Against are here to spread a message with the likes of Prayer Of The Refugee and Help Is On The Way, and of course an absolutely mega sing-along to 2008’s classic Savior – complete with an extended guitar solo (this isn’t their first rodeo, after all, and they evidently know this audience inside-out). “This band was made for the year 2025,” Tim asserts, “so we’re not going fucking anywhere.” Phew. Now, bring on the next six times… (EG)
Dust is swirling as Northlane tear themselves open for a massive Opus Stage audience on Friday afternoon, while a kaleidoscopic onslaught of flames and molten metals light up the video screens around them. Nothing is hotter, though, than the no-holds-barred performance from Marcus Bridge and the boys. Leaving behind a grey Aussie winter for Donington's blue skies and blazing sun, Carbonised and Miasma combine arid, abrasive heft with a heavy-limbed languor that's wholly relatable to this half-cooked crowd. There's something almost hypnotic in the way those elements come together on synth-stained highlight Solar. Then again, the seismic Afterimage delivers very much the opposite, boiling down this crowd to the two types of punter Northlane want to see: "People crowdsurfing and people holding them up!" Then Clockwork sends everyone really over the top. Scorching stuff. (SL)
“This might be the most amount of people that have ever seen our band play…” ponders Boston Manor frontman Henry Cox, towards the end of their Apex Stage triumph. Not that it fazes the Blackpool stars in the slightest. In front of a suitably metal-looking backdrop, the quintet are on the form of their lives today, making the most of their giant audience via early highlights Floodlights on the square, Container and Sliding Doors. It’s genuinely a perfectly-executed performance, with massive sing-alongs and more energy than you’d frankly expect from a band who’ve already spent a huge chunk of the year on the road. And it’s not all about just picking up new fans, either: Henry clearly wants to take a stand, making an impassioned speech about “gathering in unity” and “taking a meaningful step towards peace” before HEAT ME UP. We’ve said it before and we’ll say it again: Boston Manor are a hugely underrated UK gem, and next time, hopefully they’ll have an even bigger crowd. (EG)
Graphic Nature look absolutely bloodthirsty this summer. Having already levelled Slam Dunk, they arrive in the Midlands as a well-oiled chaos engine, forcing a sweaty crowd to wring out more violence and catharsis than feels realistically possible in their dehydrated state. Ruthless efficiency sees song titles like N.F.A. (No Fucking Around) and Killing Floor doubling as instructions for the heaving throng. And even the regular sit-down/jump-up schtick for Bad Blood comes across more snappily executed than usual. A turbocharged Fractured is very nearly made reality, too, as the pit comes completely unhinged. But just as things are about to get downright dangerous frontman Harvey Freeman calls time, and they flame off into the haze. (SL)
Stare into Dirty Honey frontman Marc LaBelle’s mirrored shades for long enough and you can virtually see late ’80s bands like Tesla and Cinderella winking straight back at you. The quartet, almost inevitably from Los Angeles, are like a medallion-wearing, hip-shaking time machine, and the only place they’re taking you is Sunset Strip. The good thing is, Dirty Honey are no mugs. Marc has a seemingly effortless skyscraper of a voice that hits heights usually reserved for Myles Kennedy. As trips go, it works a treat – or at least it does on the type of sunny afternoon that songs like California Dreamin’ and The Wire are built for. In this moment, the hirsute rockers go down as smoothly as, well, honey – but keep in mind that theirs is a snapshot from another time. (SB)
"We're just a little Texas band called Gore.," laughs Haley Roughton in an exaggerated cowboy drawl. "We don't even have a banner, but that's okay, our name is pretty easy to remember anyway." Indeed, none of the sweaty bodies crammed into a heaving Dogtooth tent this afternoon are likely to forget the beating they receive from the irresistible vocalist and her not-so-merry men. Shimmering brighter than the blazing skies outside and wrenching guts harder than a 3am kebab, songs like Pray, Doomsday and smashing latest single Sepsis crackle and throb in the afternoon heat. And in the show-stopping Babylon they impart a promise that when they return, it'll be at the other end of the bill. Bloody brilliant. (SL)
“It's a great time to be out of our country at the moment,” quips CKY vocalist and guitarist Chad I Ginsburg. They've left the authoritarian hellscape of America 5,000 or so miles behind, but they've brought a slice of it with them in the form of the swampy, funky – and increasingly nostalgic – sound that could have only have been mined from the US of A. The likes of Flesh Into Gear and Heading For A Breakdown are built from walls of sun-bleached riffs and snaking basslines, but at the same time, there is the sense that for them, this is like any other ordinary shift on the job. It's steadfast, but not stellar in terms of performance. They have showed up, passed the class, and for better or worse, it very much feels like the product of its time. (EW)
Any fears that Starset’s show might seem a little lost outdoors, without their gasp-inducing holograms and FX, are overcome within the first few seconds of Brave New World. The one-of-a-kind Ohio futurists are a near perfect melange of NIN-esque industrial rock with sweeping strings – courtesy of the quite brilliant Siobhán Richards and Zuzana Engererova – plus, above all, the kind of acutely-rendered emotion that you can lose yourself in. The fact that it works just as well in dazzling sunlight tightens the seal on their genius. With pyro bursting around him, frontman Dustin Bates emotes Carnivore, the ultimate imposter syndrome anthem, into a song fit to digest you. There’s a debut for the beautiful Dark Things, and by the time we get to the killer My Demons and shout-aloud anthem Toxic, Dustin’s down in a crowd that’s been well and truly won. (SB)
There are huge screams throughout the densely packed Avalanche tent as the rumbles of unpeople begin to reverberate. The impact they have had in their short lifespan is writ large today, a chant of “UNPEOPLE!” starting when they are barely a couple of songs deep – the chunky Waste and the rock-salt-and-sugar bombast of Going Numb. “I want every single one of you banging your heads, is that cool?” asks vocalist and guitarist Jake Crawford. Judging by the rowdy chanting of the riff to Smother that starts from the first note, that is no problem for their fans at all. Today, they sound as beastly as they do on record, but behind the muscular riffs of closer The Garden, there's a sentiment that is as powerful as the sound. “We are unpeople. You are unpeople. We are all unpeople,” Jake says in closing. Together they and their crowd make singing about having a miserable time as joyous as it could possibly be. (EW)
You want silly? Battlesnake gives you silly, baby. Skewering the recent trend for ritualistic ceremony, bells and smells in heavy music, the Aussie septet emerge into a packed Dogtooth tent sorting gold-and-white robes like disciples in Thulsa Doom's serpent cult and spouting all manner of pseudo-religious mumbo jumbo. It's just dressing for their balls-out brand of high octane classic metal, of course. Sounding sort of like a distillation of the devilishly heavy bits in Tenacious D, songs like I Am The Vomit and Nightmare King are doubtless well aware of their own absurdity. But loaded with legitimately neck-wrecking riffs and the kind of colossal hooks that would've seen them fast-tracked into stadia in the 1970s, they're really less about shits and giggles than banging heads and throwing horns. Then, realising they've got longer than they thought, they top it off with a roof-raising chunk of AC/DC's Let There Be Rock. Hiss-terically good. (SL)
“Fair fockin’ play to y’all” – that’s the vibe and the closing sentiment from Irish brawlers The Scratch. They only have time to play five songs, but they fill their 25 minutes with barrel loads of percussive Celtic drive fuelling gobbets of heavy, punky metal. There are the bombastic pounding bits, steered by multi-tasking singer and percussionist Daniel Lang, plus racing bits and even tuneful bits. Pulling Teeth, a new song, provides all three, while Another Round initiates the show’s first proper circle-pit. The band’s vibe is enjoyably unique too – they’re not Dropkick Murphys impersonators; they use Irish influences in a wholly new and more challenging manner, and this brief introduction worked a treat. (SB)
Tuning into BBC Radio Leicester this morning, the hype for SiM was already, uh, SiMmering. Fans interviewed at the crack of dawn turned out to be busy prepping to see the cult Japanese metalcore crew open the Apex Stage, and they're aptly rewarded a few hours later with an oddball audiovisual assault that's as confounding as it is compelling. A backdrop featuring the iconic Batman symbol is fluttering, out of place in the early afternoon sun, while video clips sporadically interrupt the standard big screen stream. Musically, songs like TxHxC, KiSS OF DEATH and DO THE DANCE layer ska beats and stabbing orchestral synths over crunching riffs. Crossfaith singer Kenta Koie even drops in for a chaotic surprise cameo at one point. "Thank you Download for giving us a chance to show the world exactly who we are," grins frontman MAH as they reach their crescendo with a barnstorming The Rumbling. With this set cut as it smashes its 30-minute limit, it's obvious that Donington would be happy to see a whole lot more. (SL)
It's a tall order being the first artist of the whole festival to step onstage, but Karen Dió is a perfect choice to cut the ribbon. Walking on to the Rocky theme and gleefully waving to the crowd, our favourite self-professed Latin riot grrrl is a fizzing ball of energy. Her experience in arenas supporting Sum 41 and Limp Bizkit shines through as she gets the crowd singing to warm up, while the likes of the effervescent My World and the playful Stupid are sharp as nails. Later, her punky twist on Chappell Roan’s Casual is inspired, closer Sick Ride is brilliantly sassy, and her presence makes the tent feel as sunny on the inside as it is on the outside. (EW)
