Incineration Festival 2026 – Camden, London: The Review (Part Two)
The tribute to Quorthon and the music of Bathory in Blood Fire Death’s exclusive UK appearance is where this year’s festival really casts its spell. The all-legend lineup is a fever dream to more than just black metal’s most devout followers, and not even some misbehaviour from the drum channels can put a dampener on just how incendiary this year’s headliners are. We also look at the set from Swedes, Grave.
Grave
One of the big four of Swedish death metal, Grave has been prowling the extreme metal realm since 1988. And two years ago, Jörgen Sandström, Jens Paulsson and Jonas Torndal reunited with guitarist Ola Lindgren, returning Grave to its original line-up and bringing the band’s “golden age” back to the stage. Armed with red strobe lights, fire and riffs that could chug their way through entire sieging armies, Incineration Festival gets a taste of exactly what these hardened bastards are capable of. They’re a relentless riff machine, yes, but they’re also calmly humble. Jörgen expresses his appreciation of everyone who made the time to come and see them, despite knowing that it’s “a bit of a puzzle to see everyone” at this festival. A particular highlight of the Grave catalogue is ‘Black Dawn’, which, Jörgen reminisces, they wrote when he was about 14. He’s now 54. It’s a primitive, swaggering piece of death metal that inspires a swell of the crowd to join in with the chorus shouts of “black dawn”. The band pull faces at each other as they unleash a massacre of bludgeoning bass lines and trampling drum blasts, inciting pits and a couple of crowdsurfers to surge forth in triumphant rage, right up until the last fragment of pyro heat has bled from The Roundhouse.
Blood Fire Death
Pioneering one genre of metal is legendary. But pioneering two integral genres of metal is an absurd feat of such behemothic proportions that such a creator is elevated to the highest tier of immortal influence. It is the celebration of one such figure that culminates this year’s Incineration Festival. The man, the enigma, the mastermind: Quorthon. He was the sole member of Bathory, the Swedish extreme metal band that sparked the invention of first black, then Viking metal, and laid the groundwork for so many, many bands to follow. And it is several members of such bands as Enslaved, Gorgoroth, Watain, Aura Noir, Mayhem, and Emperor that play on rare occasions, such as this, in the prominent Bathory tribute band Blood Fire Death, to honour Quorthon and the indisputable magnitude of his influence.
Nothing can quell the crowd’s excitement as the morbid whinnies of ‘Oden Ride over Nordland’ transfix it. The Roundhouse’s gaze on the stage, decorated with a slaughterous battlefield backdrop and banners on either side of it – one for Bathory, one for Quorthon. When the resonant choral melodies in ‘ Fine Day to Die’s’ intro are ripped into by a raspy wail, the first of the all-star vocalists reveals himself to be the uncompromisingly vicious Kristian “Gaahl” Espedal (ex-Gorgoroth). What erupts is a tumultuous cascade of fervent fan reception that slings fully-charged roars into every Camden crevice (roars that only once or twice serve to disguise whatever blips are currently struggling out of the sound system).
Erik Danielsson (Watain) takes over as vocalist with wicked enthusiasm, as the fiery assault from the band is heightened by spurts of pyro – fortunately not of the eternal fire kind, as the pit is heating up and all sorts of face-smacking carnage are breaking loose in the name of Quorthon. Attila Csihar roars ‘Born For Burning’ with a vehemence that manages to send shivers down your spine despite the sweat, the flames, and the assault of brutal, crusty riffs. The original Bathory bass player, Frederick Melander, even makes an appearance, much to the screeching enthusiasm of the crowd, who by this point are spitting out howls of appreciation at every chance they get.
By the time the lump-in-throat, booming melodies of ‘Hammerhear’t seep into the crowd, the only patriotism felt is to the man thousands have just spent the last hour on well-worn feet jubilantly thrashing out for. All hail Quorthon. All hail Bathory. May it never be a fine day for your legend to die.
