I’m going to start this review with an apology. Call of the Wild 2024 was almost three months ago and the festival is getting ready for its first major announcement for the 2025 iteration. And I’m only just getting our review online. It’s not my style and it’s certainly not Moshville Times’ style. That said, the week after the May bank holiday, my day job went nuts. I’m talking doing days where I’d work far longer hours than usual, get home, cram some food in my face, get a shower and head to bed to do it all over again. And it meant reviewing this amazing festival got neglected whilst also the general running of the site (as well as other Moshville Times endeavours) and personal/other work commitments got in the way, too. And I promised it would get published, so here we are, three months later after chipping away at the review any time I’ve had five minutes to myself. So to the bands, PRs, managers, the festival’s organisers and its patrons – I’m sorry, life got in the way. Now, let’s roll back the clock…
It’s been a great first full day at Call of the Wild and having now experienced it in full flow, I can see exactly why people come here year after year and what I’ve unfortunately missed out on all this time. The morbid part of me realises on Saturday morning that having been here since Thursday, we’re now halfway done. But there’s still two full days of music to enjoy.
A wander into the arena and grabbing the latest in a long line of coffees whilst Ransom take the honours of blowing the cobwebs away. And blow them away they do. It’s energetic hard rock with a metal edge to it and a perfect way to wake up on a Saturday morning. Much like with Loz Campbell yesterday, there’s already a respectable crowd in the arena for them and they make the most of it. They’re a solid live band and treat this show as if they’re playing a massive arena, out to impress and giving it their all. Their song “Predator” is one they admit as a tribute to AC/DC’s “Night Prowler” and is just as sinister as its inspiration and one of the highlights in a barnstorming opening set.
The Wicked Jackals bring the sleaze rock back for a second day, following in the footsteps of yesterday’s. Here, though, it’s simply colouring it through the lens of hard rock, not leaning too hard into it and it allows them to add other elements in such as one of their new tracks which has hints of “Welcome to the Jungle” before segueing into a bluesy melody. It ups the ante for the day but I’d love to see them play to a tiny, sweaty, rammed club as I reckon they’d be even better when you can see the whites of their eyes. Bringing oodles of groove, White Raven Down are all about no-frills hard rock powered by their driving bass lines. It’s a big, beefy sound, designed to rattle your fillings and shake the filling out of your burger as you take a bite. Indeed, if you happen to look up “power trio” in a thesaurus, it’ll offer you White Raven Down as an alternative.
It’s the turn of back to back bands I’ve been looking forward to. Star Circus are one of a couple of power pop bands you’ll find at Call of the Wild this year, more than doing their album justice. They hammer through it like their life depends on it, the bright tones and upbeat vocals do a great job of making a stand against the dull and murky sky which has been threatening the day. Whilst there’s a pop and melodic varnish to them, they can still pull out a hefty, sizzling guitar solo when it’s needed, serving the song and never once chucking it in just to tick the “heavy” box. Meanwhile, Häxan bring unfiltered, no-frills hard rock from the depths of South Wales. Having been wanting to catch them for a few years since their album released in the middle of 2020, they don’t disappoint. This is a trio that simply doesn’t hold back. Powerful and passionate in equal measure, they’re fired up and ready to entertain, the duo of Sam Bolderson (guitar/vocals) and Harriet Wadeson (bass) prowl the stage whilst Jess Hartley (drums) keeps it steady at the back.
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Nasty Ratz are all about chunky riffs and sleazy squeals to the afternoon. They’re definitely for a discerning crowd and those who are there are lapping it up, both newcomers and existing fans alike. The Czech mob are captivating, bringing a twist to their sleaze stylings with some rough growls to give it an edge rather than come across samey like a lot of these bands can. Thankfully, it’s with this, the sheer quality of their musicianship and unity as a band which manages to elevate them to not only be the best band of the weekend of this sub-genre but one of the best bands of the festival, full stop. As the set progresses, there’s also the odd hint of Falling Red, making me wish I’d seen that homegrown band more than I’ve had the chance to. But on the strength of this performance, nostalgia-inducing aspects aside, they definitely need bumped up to one of the outdoor stages next time around.
It’s all about melodic rock/AOR with Sam Millar. It’s a far cry from the spit and sweat of his former band Bigfoot but he seems comfortable with the shift into something a little tamer and fronting his own band, not that he was a sideman previously. There’s bits of synth to evoke 80s vibes but it never becomes heavy handed and nor does he and his band ever fall into pastiche, instead managing to sound like themselves with authenticity. Back on the Trailblazer stage, Moskito bring a welcome dose of carnage to the weekend. My mate, Garry, gave me the heads up on this lot and give him his due, he’s usually right about these things. I wasn’t sure what to expect but they became the find of the weekend. Channelling early Frank Carter and the Rattlesnakes with their punk-infused alternative sounds, it’s filthy, cool rock. There’s big dance/electronic backing elements but it doesn’t deter from the energy the live musicians put into the performance and it’s pretty much only the drummer who doesn’t cover the entirety of the stage. They admit at one point to having a few too many beers but it’s likely by the end of the set they’ve sweated the lot of it out. Seeing them again is a must.
Confess hark back the 80s sleazy hair metal to the day. The Scandinavians show why that neck of the woods is such a hotbed for it, paying homage to Skid Row, Warrant and, closer to home, Reckless Love. Similarly, there’s echoes of H.E.A.T, albeit a touch more pop-influenced and more in line with the Erik Grönwall era rather than either of Kenny Leckremo’s stints. Needless to say, they’re a band that a lot of people mention in the Wolfpack at the end of the night. “Who’s here for the line-dancing?” Hell’s Ditch’s chipper frontman asks. I’m not going to lie, I was one of them. Except, this is a band who are about the furthest thing from line-dancing but their posters around the festival site piqued my interest. Instead, they go right for the jugular of every millennial here with their pop punk/alternative sound. Think golden era Yellowcard and bands of that ilk. It’s bouncy, it’s hook-filled, well-put-together and more energetic than a five-year-old who’s mainlined sugar.
Interviews stop me from reuniting fully with Bad Touch and I only catch the last couple of songs. It’s been over five years since I last saw them. Time has been kind to them and they’re still the same well-oiled bluesy classic rock machine. Full of vigour, they don’t let the rain (which has now put in an appearance) dampen their spirits and simply rise to the challenge and no-one is better suited to it. Because if you’re watching Bad Touch and you’re not smiling, you should probably check your pulse. The dedication to their craft in the intervening years show them performing better than ever but more than that, guitarist Seeks (ever the image of Paul Kossoff) is recovering from knee surgery and probably shouldn’t be playing. But he and they are up for an excellent dinner time slot. Let’s not leave it another five years, guys.
There’s a whole host of excellent vendors and traders over the weekend, the bar staff are lovely, there’s a catch up with Oli Brown with his Black Feather Design jewellery in the middle of the afternoon and the coffee stall is basically keeping me upright. There’s an excellent curry stall but after Bad Touch, readers, I fell in love. Foreigner wanted to know what love is – well, I’m here to tell you it’s a toastie from The Rock and Roll Toastie Co. Naming their menu after bands (allowing for some excellent puns), they made their first ever festival a success with excellent food (I had the In Flames – cheese, jalapenos, hot sauce and red onion) and banter to beat the rain with. It rivals Bunnyman’s Chow, it’s that good.
Now it’s time for a band that will have drawn a lot of people here. A band that deserves to be on a stage as big as the Southall Lawless and a band we’ve championed since the release of their debut album. It’s none other than South of Salem. This evening, just like every other performance, they’re not fucking about. And in the same vein, let’s do similar – band of the weekend. And it’s not even close. No one right now sounds like them, nor is any one as polished or professional on-stage as them. Bringing horror punk and metal sounds into their powerful hard rock, the bigger stage suits them and they use it to full effect with an impressive light show and a welcome helping of pyro to accentuate appropriate moments of songs. Picking all the best songs from their two albums (not that either has any duds on them), “Villain” from Death of the Party gets its second ever airing, the rapid descent into darkness matching the tone of the song. Elsewhere, there’s powerful chugging riffs, razor-sharp which sees the two guitars of Kodi Kasper and Denis Sheriff intertwining expertly. With every song such as “Static”, “Let Us Prey”, “Jet Black Eyes” and “Made to be Mine” received with aplomb and sang back word perfect, they’ve got the crowd in the palm of their hands. Even when they bring the tempo down for “Demons Are Forever”, all eyes are on them. As a band that continues to go from strength to strength, they put on a dynamic and thrilling set to dominate the weekend as a busy festival season for the band beckons. The hour they play for simply isn’t enough.
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When Saturday headliners Lost Society were announced, it was met with an overwhelming chorus of “Who?” In quick fashion, they make themselves known and make sure those of us who don’t know them are intimately acquainted by the end of their set. Needless to say, they impress and for a lot of people on Sunday, and on social media after the fact, the Finns become one of, if not the, highlight of the weekend. Their alternative metal stylings are something a bit different for Call of the Wild but given the response, it says a lot about your average attendee that it was met with an open mind. There’s a handful of comparisons to Bring Me the Horizon (thankfully Lost Society are better than them) but think bands who appeared in Kerrang! in the mid 2010s. With enough pyro to make Rammstein jealous and plenty of chat between songs, this moment isn’t lost on the band. For their first ever festival headline slot, they know the assignment – leave everything on the stage. And they do.
Musically, it’s not my cup of tea. It also doesn’t help they’re following South of Salem, something no band should really have to do. They more than rise to the challenge and it would appear they succeed in doing so for a lot of people, but they don’t chop my onions. That said, I can’t fault them as musicians and performers. They’re slick, handle their instruments with an enviable proficiency and there’s a tangible chemistry between them. It’s with all this in mind that they’re able to deliver the goods on a technical level, letting their music do the talking for them and win the crowd over with relative ease without relying on the pomp and bombast of stage effects. Objectively, it’s pretty much flawless and whilst I can’t see what everyone else saw, nor did it appeal to my ears, I’m glad the band and crowd had an excellent time of it and the gamble of booking them paid off for the organisers.
Photos by Gabi Kowal
