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Prologo

A blessing and a curse, Friday at Copenhell is always an intensely thrilling day. This year, too, I end it exhausted but happy. The schedule is packed, starting bright and early, and I’ll warn you now—expect a midday crash, worn down by the unbearable heat (at least for me).

Day 3: Olympus Metallicus

Soulfly

Metal Roots

2:00 PM, the volcano’s mouth opens and erupts the Metal Cumbia du Brazíl.

Chase Bryant the Good, the Cavalera brothers the extremly Bad, Mike DeLeon the Ugly. A solid quartet kicking off the metalest day of the festival with a flawless performance.

Soulfly stand out not only for their killer setlist but also for a straightforward yet effective showmanship. This is metal—Max knows it well—and he blends energy, brotherhood, and fun into a finely tuned alchemical formula. A dense but never frantic hour, lightened by South American rhythmic incursions. Friendly but credible, metal gods without airs. The mood is everything, and they ride it with skill and confidence.

They’re not the distrumptive mammoth of Exodus from the day before, but by the time they close with “Eye For An Eye,” we’re pumped, satisfied, and thoroughly dusted. We witnessed an hour of great metal—and I want more.

Guitarist Mike DeLeon becomes my new idol: he should be playing quietly to Mr. Cavalera’s right, but instead, he steals the show with the most viscerally rock presence of the day.

Trold

Let the Fire Dance Begin

I trade the Norwegian Gåte for Trold—a tough but wise choice. These Danish folk metalheads promise a massive show, and when a local band goes big, I have to be there.

In the photographer’s pit, I’m delighted to spot a long line of fire and smoke machines. I lick my lips: have they perhaps “borrowed” some toys from Kreator?

The concert kicks off at full speed—30 seconds in, and the gas jets start firing: flame after flame, and we’re only on the first track! The crowd roars and starts moshing. Hot!

The band goes all in from the get-go: full power, full return. Through the flames, it looks like the stage is splashing with sweat. Crowd surfing becomes relentless—it’s time to retreat to the back.

Trold

Trold don’t take themselves too seriously as they deliver a fun and engaging brand of Viking folk metal—but this show is no joke. The stage setup and the band’s energy are worthy of a major act, and they’ve even brought along some special guests.

Among them is the accordion of Kristian (interviewed [here]), who seems to perfectly embody the band’s folk metal philosophy. It’s got to be well-crafted—bold in its experimentation, poetic when needed, but never pretentious. If the goal is fun, then let it be fun.

No one alive today really met medieval vikings, but I’m pretty sure that when they partied the went full-in for the fun, instead of bragging their on own vanity. If that’s the case, nothing’s changed: it was a full-on celebration in the crowd.

Light up the gas!

Gåte

The Northern Calling
(by Davide)

As a proud ambassador of Generation X, class of ’76, I was enjoying a well-earned break in the shade of the trees at the Copenhell VIP village. The June sun was heating up the entire festival, and those hammocks beneath the leafy canopy were a real lifeline for us who aren’t kids anymore.

But then something magical happened.

A celestial song began to drift through the leaves, like the call of a Nordic siren. It wasn’t the usual metal roar that dominates Copenhell—it was something older, deeper. My Gen X heart, the one that lived through grunge and every shift the world threw at us, started to beat differently.

I had to follow that voice.

Walking toward the Pandæmonium stage, I saw a mesmerized crowd gathered in front. Onstage, a blonde goddess with a voice straight out of a Viking saga: Gunhild Sundli from Gåte, the Norwegians who’ve turned folk into pure magic.

These folks came in last at Eurovision? Who cares! Here, in the temple of metal, they were giants. Gunhild’s voice rose like a pagan prayer, while her brother Sveinung danced his fingers across the nyckelharpa, conjuring atmospheres that transported us straight into the forests of the North.

But the real revelation was Magnus Robot Børmark on guitar—a madman possessed, climbing monitors, writhing across the stage, turning every solo into a tribal rite. I watched him scale the entire Pandæmonium structure and play while hanging like a modern Viking!

For 45 minutes, I forgot I was a 48-year-old with a creaky back. I was that kid again, discovering new bands and feeling metal course through my veins like young blood. Gåte took Norwegian folk and forged it into something epic, powerful, and absolutely vital.

When they left the stage, I realized I had just witnessed something special. Not just a concert, but a transfusion of Nordic energy that warmed my heart and reignited a flame I thought had dimmed over the years.

A folk-metal epiphany at the heart of Copenhell.

Dream Theater

Petrucci Dream Skies

At home, you’ll almost never catch me listening to jazz or Dream Theater on the couch. Don’t hold it against me—I can only truly enjoy them live. And specifically, Petrucci and Portnoy were pure bliss.

After all, this is their 40th anniversary tour, and they’re playing exactly the songs they want. And you can tell! Dream Theater perform with the joy and passion of musicians who truly love the music they’re playing. Their passion is tangible—real.

Let me get to the point. When music—however complex—rises from your gut to your brain with that subtle tingle running up your spine, you know you’re witnessing a top-tier concert. And that’s exactly what this was for us.

I see Davide, fully swept up in the experience, start muttering profanities under his breath. That’s the ultimate sign that the mighty Petrucci has gotten to him, too. One hour, start to finish, not a second wasted: time flies in a sensory vortex of emotional chords.

My moment? A long, sprawling “Peruvian Skies” blended seamlessly with Wish You Were Here and Wherever I May Roam—two songs that, under normal circumstances, no other band should even touch with a long stick, let alone rearrange. But Dream Theater? They pull it off beautifully.

Sure, I’m more likely to put on a Tool record when I’m at home. But if I had to choose four hours of live music between these two prog-metal giants? Give me Dream Theater, hands down, every day.

We do not envy whoever had to pack and board Portnoy’s never-ending drum kit.

Carcass

We got Carcass-ed.

We got Carcass-ed.

I could add a few more lines just to pretend I’m a real writer, but honestly? For me, it could start and end right here. Actually—scratch that—it does start and end right here.

Because Carcass invented the kind of metal they play, and frankly, they should be the ones reviewing us, not the other way around. They’re right, no matter what.

If you really want to know what it’s like—go get Carcass-ed yourself. I’m dropping my notepad and camera. I’m dropping myself into the pit. See you in an hour of glorious, metal-fueled ecstasy.

Metal giants—indescribable and indestructible.

Planet Y

Punk Breeze

The heat’s rising, the pressure’s dropping. I’m starting to feel the toll of being physically Carcass-ed, mentally blitzed by Trold, and spiritually elevated by Dream Theater.

I seek relief and shelter at the BoneYard, where Planet Y are playing from a stage set up inside a rusty shipping container. A historic punk band tied to Copenhagen’s Ungdomshuset—this is pure K-Town spirit. Fast, shouted punk blasted at the crowd, but with a smile on their faces.

It’s refreshing and reconnects you to a simple, human dimension—raw music, but it works.

Kreator

Pyrotechnic Engineering

No, you don’t skip Kreator—I keep telling myself that with the last of my strength. From the photographers’ corridor, I manage to admire and capture some fine examples of German engineering: namely, flamethrowers and “confetti” mortars.
Top-tier gear—streamlined, branded, custom-built. Call the engineers! or call the fire brigade!

Kreator deliver a rock-solid show, both musically and visually. Too bad that in this blazing afternoon, fire, confetti, and explosions lose some of their impact.

I do my dirty work, even attempt a few shoulder slams—half-hearted ones. Whatever energy I’d regained dissipates quickly. I need shade. Now.

Blackout in flames

Billy Idol

Sborone in the City

No photos of Billy Idol, unfortunately. We all wanted to capture his legendary Elvis-style Jointed-Lips™ in action, but we had to settle for a distant glimpse of the Rock ‘n’ Roll Sexy Bad Boy.

A close-up view of Billy Idol (with a *lot* of zoom)

“Settle” is an understatement: the seventy-something Londoner still scrambles the hormones of the audience. He sings with the sultry expression of a man stuck in a never-ending erotic dream. Shiny leather and acrylic outfits, peroxide-spiked hair—it’s all part of the brand. One after another, songs that ooze sensual swagger: “Eyes Without a Face” and “Flesh for Fantasy” kick off the set with a smooth, seductive vibe.

A slow, steady crescendo builds up to “Rebel Yell” before the break. But for me, the real moment is the encore with “Dancing With Myself”, followed by “Hot in the City.”

Tonight, there’s heat in the city—Copenhagen!

It all comes together in his iconic final send-off:
“Thank you for making my life awesome.”

Cocky, but irresistible. Hard not to feel a little jealous.

King Diamond

Asylum Theatre

From the balcony, I watch King Diamond’s Metal Opera unfold on stage.

Kim from Hvidovre is right at home, confidently performing a well-polished show and setlist (recently reviewed [here] for the Milan date), but he still takes the chance to get cozy with the crowd—slipping between English and Danish during his mostly improvised stage banter.

Connecting with the locals works well, and even if the concert’s pace feels quite laid-back (at least for my thoroughly exhausted limbs), there’s a genuine sense of being among family. That homey atmosphere is sealed by Kim’s old-school remedy: a few drops of honey to keep his vocal cords smooth and stage-ready.

Domestic harmony.

I, too, drag myself all the way home.

Regretfully, I skip Cabal due to complete exhaustion. Once again—next time. But you should definitely check out this Danish deathcore band: they’re absolutely one to watch.

Festival Extra: The Vikings of Udgaard

As every year, the ritual visit to the Viking village of Udgaard is a must.

Today we arrive just in time for lunch. I’m already drooling, but the game meat still has feathers and guts—delicious stuff for the firepit; dirty work for the hands.