REVIEW: Steelhouse Festival 2025

Friday:

Taking place just three days after Ozzy Osbourne’s passing, there was no longer any point pretending this year’s Steelhouse was going to be a ‘normal’ festival. Just as the hilltop event was the first rock happening of scale to break through lockdown in 2021, so it became – suddenly, unavoidably – our first real gathering since the seismic news of our metal godfather’s departure.

There’s a communality about Steelhouse Festival, something that welcomes you to its hearth. Organisers Mikey Evans and Max Rhead refer to this collective as ‘the family’, and frankly after the death of Ozzy Osbourne, there’s nowhere this writer needs to be more right now than up this hill, within this enfoldment, being with these people.

If you’re here, you feel it too. This year Steelhouse would not so much be on top of a mountain as ‘Over The Mountain’.

Motörheading us off in the right direction are openers Asomvel. A clear descendent of Lemmy’s gang, relentless grit and grind makes them hard to dislike. And, just like their biggest influence, nobody here has the slightest difficulty hearing them. Marisa Rodriguez, magnetic leader of Marisa And The Moths, is beaming in the sunshine. “This is already the best festival we’ve ever played,” she gushes, and with songs like ‘Get If Off My Chest’ and the mental health-themed ‘Borderline’, they’re something of an emotive cluster-bomb. Alez D'Elia has the name ‘OZZY’ written black and bold on his guitar, prompting vocal approval every time he raises the instrument high.

Before veteran scuzz rockers Wolfsbane stomp through time marbled classics, Planet Rock’s Paul Anthony leads the crowd through a beautifully observed 30 seconds of silence. Unified, we watch on, right hand on heart, the other raising horns to the sky. As well as a stripped back take on Sabbath’s ‘Changes’, the song of the moment, Blaze Bayley’s men bring us ‘Money To Burn’, led by ageless bassist Jeff Hateley’s reliable throb, ‘Loco’ and ‘Manhunt’, each an irreverent stampede. The seesaw singsongs remind you of that one mad uncle who sang embarrassingly loudly (but surprisingly well) after a few whiskies.

US horror rockers Wednesday 13 looked like odd men out on paper, but their hour on stage flies by, thanks to kooky, hooky goth-bombs like ‘Bad Things’ and ‘197666’. All jet-black hair and corpse paint, the band’s eponymous frontman has been winning over crowds like this since his days with Murderdolls, the band he formed with Slipknot’s Joey Jordison. A revival of ‘Nowhere’ is dedicated to the gone-too-soon drummer turned guitarist.

The names of British songwriters the equal of The Wildhearts’ Ginger can comfortably be counted on the digits of one hand – and you’ll still have enough fingers free to raise a glass to this one-of-a-kind maverick. Tonight’s headliner is a triumph of talent, of ducking, diving melodic mastery all twisted up with perfectly aimed heaviness and deepest of heart. ‘Diagnosis’ (catharsis, joyful catharsis), ‘The Jackson Whites’ (unexpected caffeine bomb) ‘Mazel Tov Cocktail’ (euphoric singalong), ‘Failure Is The Mother Of Success’ (three songs in one; all great) …

You run out of superlatives, but the sweetest chocolate on top of all the delicious layers beneath is just how happy the oft troubled mainman now is. “I’m sensing so much love everywhere,” he emotes. You can say that again.

Saturday:

Early risers may have thought they were still dreaming when taken by Jayler into a feverish Led Zep timewarp. A whole lotta loveliness do they bring, and while the youngsters need some bigger songs, their coalescing of Sabbath classic ‘War Pigs’ into one of their own is genius. The evermore impressive MuddiBrooke offer a coiled alt rock slither that suddenly rears up, fangs exposed. A lot of that’s down to Brooke’s visceral vocals and her shard-sharp guitar stabs.

Scarlet Rebels are far more predictable for those who prefer safety. You can’t ignore the fact they had a hit album (2022’s ‘See Through Blue’) but you sense they’ll need clearer focus and different layers for finer progress. Hillbilly Vegas are already that real deal, southern rock sunbeams like ‘High Time For A Good Time’ and ‘Feels Good’ astutely cut for this beautiful afternoon up here, while Sophie Lloyd again brings dazzling guitar solos and stuff that makes people wanna nod their heads and sing. Marisa Rodriguez fronts most of it, giving her own welcome slant to ‘Runaway’ and ‘Do Or Die’.

Mr T doubtless pities the fool that’d argue with Kris Barras and its bloody good fortune that nobody needs to. Kris Barras Band are superb – bassist Frazer Kerslake hotfoots around the stage like a man being controlled by a sadistic puppeteer while the hulking mainman steers us through deftly honed tunes like ‘Savages’ and ‘Light It Up’s supersonic blues. It’s then something of an honour to spend time with Lita Ford. While women continue to be underrepresented in rock, today’s field is infinitely more fertile than when Lita and Joan Jett (in The Runaways) started chiselling at what were then impenetrable looking walls. Now 66, Lita was a firestarter, and inevitably her rendition of ‘Close My Eyes Forever’, her 1989 duet with Ozzy Osbourne, near enough stops our world in its tracks for five minutes.

For those who recall their heyday – furtive teenage peerings at their more ribald excesses – watching W.A.S.P comes with a ton of conflicting emotions. Yes, they sound amazing, and yes, it’s almost surreal to have the seemingly ten-foot-tall Blackie Lawless up this bumpy mountain trail. But while even the most casual W.A.S.P fan would delight in tonight’s setlist – 1984’s self-titled debut album in its entirety, plus highlights from the following three – the massive screens behind and around them showing early days footage are, to put it kindly, distracting.

Put into that kind of context, Lawless, in reality a wise and humane being, resembles a redneck precursor to Marilyn Manson. S&M imagery, women belittled, and most uncomfortably, no attempt to eliminate footage of ex-bassist turned convicted sex offender Johnny Rod. If – and it’s a big ‘if’ – we can mentally pack this away, we can wallow utterly in songs like ‘The Flame’, ‘L.O.V.E. Machine’, ‘Wild Child’ and the genuinely beautiful ‘Forever Free’. Though great tonight, W.A.S.P are a tarnished pleasure.

Sunday:

Surf’s up it seems, even here on the mountain. Easy-going, barefoot sunshine warrior Kit Trigg is on to something – since Reef there’s been a dearth of beach ready tunes like ‘Goin’ For Glory’, or ‘Grow With The Flow’ with that warm nu-hippy love. Our beautifully odd new mate is someone we’ll be seeing more of. Tailgunner and The Treatment are welcome contrasts, both worthy, illustrating British rock’s copious depth of talent in different ways. The former race from metallic starting blocks like a juvenile Maiden, while the latter are all hooky riffs and riffy hooks, ‘Shake The Mountain’ their tailor-cut crescendo.

“I love these guys,” says Planet Rock’s Darren Redick, echoing the thoughts of many here, as These Wicked Rivers take to their uniquely decorated stage. It’s the groove and the grit and the tunes, its desire to be inclusive (‘The Family’) and yet somehow folkloric (‘Evergreen’), that wins so big. When you think it can’t get better they drop in the eternal night-light that is ‘When The War Is Won’, a sunrise epiphany for any soul that has struggled. Worth mentioning too that both this band and Kit Trigg go on to play ecstatically received acoustic sets for those lucky enough to have VIP bar wristbands.

The Raven Age are a decent unit at the wrong party. Progressive, technical metal like ‘The Guillotine’ pairs chugging riffs with clean-meets-raw vocals, sparks of Avenged Sevenfold that can’t yet deliver the same dramas. Inglorious, though, are returning from hiatus in renewed health. Backed by former Cradle Of Filth guitarist Richard Shaw, Nathan James’ vocal talents are pushed to yet more stellar heights this afternoon. Sun emerges from rain cloud, and there’s something near spiritual about ‘Holy Water’.

Wolfmother, Australian masters of riff-centred, bass-heavy bong rock sorcery, are all about warped retro sounds, like Zeppelin remastered by Royal Blood. A static three-piece, they’re far from the most exciting band to watch, but as mainman Andrew Stockdale peers almost hesitantly from his hedgerow of hair, he builds a near dizzying stockade of sludgy riffs and wailing hooks.

All of which is fine but may as well not have happened by the time homecoming heroes Those Damn Crows take on their first Steelhouse headline slot. They own it. The huge stage is theirs, the songs – ‘Man On Fire’, ‘No Surrender’, ‘Let’s Go Psycho’ – belong on here; if anything they grow, assume bolder, widescreen form. And frontman Shane Greenhall, a relatable member of our mortal kind, holds together what can only be the most emotional of experiences. The only time he seems suddenly thunderstruck is when introducing ‘The Night Train’. “It’s about people we’ve lost…but I’m also thinking of Ozzy,” he manages.

Later, the even deeper, even harder hitting ‘This Time I’m Ready’ comes across like the work of champions. Key to Those Damn Crows is their obvious humanity; we mere fans aren’t so much included as at the very heart of it all. In the context of recent losses and this weekend’s triumphs, it’s alchemy that hits home as brightly as the band’s pyro. In a bravura ‘Blink Of An Eye’, Shane puts it best: “You gotta hit the lows to feel the highs”…

Sunday at Steelhouse Festival 2025 in photos:

Friday at Steelhouse Festival 2025 in photos

Saturday at Steelhouse Festival 2025 in photos

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• steelhouse festival
• those damn crows
• w.a.s.p.
• lita ford
• the wildhearts