The second set of Saturday’s reviews, thank god the sun is still out!

THE HAUNTED
This weekend The Haunted have gone from being the really good band you and a few mates like and feel are underrated, to being a band who delivered the living, breathing, spitting proof that they belong in the throne room of metal; not just in the royal court. While the newer kings of metal seem unable to deliver more than a couple of good records per career, and whose live shows go from gripping, to fun, to simply bearable, The Haunted are on an upward trajectory. Frontman Peter Dolving – with new beard – growls, screams and bellows into the mic until even those at the back can see the veins in his forehead screaming for relief. While on record the band are great, live, the riffs come alive with a cocksure swagger, adding more groove to the weight and giving what are already strong melodies a solid instrumental backbone. One of the weekend’s surprise highlights.
JAMES GILL

ENTOMBED
Stumbling onstage, already fully inebriated at two in the afternoon, Entombed’s wild-eyed LG Petrov proves one of the day’s most engaging frontmen, and a raw, raging advocate for the thumpingly gritty sound of Sweden’s early death metal scene as lurch from the punked-up D-beat grooves of the band’s early days to the later sound, which today feels like a full-on banquet for chug-aholics.
JONATHAN SELZER

CRADLE OF FILTH
Always more divisive in their homeland than in any of the dozens of other nations where they’ve long commanded a fanatical, even rabid following, tonight Cradle add to their long legacy of controversy in memorable style, and right on their own doorstep. Pre-show, there was no simmering tension in evidence, no bubbling resentment of the kind some febrile British audiences reserve for the envious castigation of their most successful musical exports. No, the shadowy candyman who prematurely halted the entire show with what was essentially a boiled sweet acted alone. Cast from the darkness of the front rows, the offending confection – a giant gobstopper apparently – sharply connected with a hapless Paul Allender – surely not the intended target – capping a barrage of projectiles that until then had been confined to a relatively harmless assortment of half empty bottles and half eaten sandwiches. “If you’re going to throw drinks at us at least make sure they’re full,“ quipped Dani. Although perhaps understandable, the decision to pull the plug with so much of the show yet to run was severe and as always, it only takes one arsehole to spoil it for everyone else. Cradle didn’t come here to be loved, but they might at least have garnered and even expected some respect. Too bad, really; Dusk And Her Embrace, Gilded Cunt, Nymphmetamine, The Principle Of Evil Made Flesh… it had all been going quite well for a while.
GREG MOFFITT