Messed!Up
Today you get to follow me, Emil Gustavsson, a man in his off-peak years, as I head to Göteborg Brinner, a metal festival at Frihamnen in Gothenburg. It’s also my first time writing for Messed!Up – should be fun.
My alarm goes off at 8 a.m, and I crawl out of bed and sit down to play some video games. I am utterly hopeless and repeatedly fail in my attempts to survive the medieval world the game is set in. Frustrated, I realise that it is getting late and that I need to switch focus from the medieval world to the world of heavy metal. So, I put on my denim battle gear and head out into an epic summer day and straddle off towards the festival site. On the way, I call photographer Bloom, and we arrange to meet inside.
While walking across the bridge to Hisingen Island, I start thinking about how In Flames made it shake the last time they played at the pier (Bananpiren). The closer I get to the festival site, the more beer-drinking, bandshirt-wearing people I see. Outside the entrance, a queue several hundred metres long fills up the street. I soon learn that 15,000 tickets have been sold; the festival is approaching a sell-out – nice!
At the main stage, a group of dedicated metalheads has already claimed their spots, two hours before the first band is due to play. You can’t find more dedicated fans than metalheads. I quite like that.
Photographer Bloom and I decide to grab burgers to fill up with energy before it all starts. The restaurant tells us that they sold 7,000 burgers over three days at Sweden Rock, which is completely insane. At our table, we start talking to a dude who has travelled all the way from Boston to see his favourite bands, In Flames and Dark Tranquillity, playing in their hometown. What’s more dedicated than that? Epic!
Múr
We head towards the festival’s smaller stage – ‘only’ a 4,000 cap stage – to catch the first band of the day: Múr.
On the way in, I manage to get a hug from Berserkmannen through the fence. There’s a constant blabbering among the photographers about heavy metal, dedicated fans, Swedish accents, and upcoming festivals to cover. We also find out that the smaller stage can accommodate roughly 25 percent of the festival’s audience, which feels strange for several reasons. I anxiously start planning how to optimise my band day. I absolutely cannot miss Gaerea or Napalm Death.
The first band, Múr, I discovered a couple of years ago when they released their self-titled album, which I hit me hard. I love their take on Icelandic-flavoured post-metal. Múr take the stage at 1.30 p.m, and I find a spot right in the middle. Perfect. The show begins with the sound of thunder, and it strikes me that the singer has the longest hair at the entire festival – and a fucking keytar, which he masters like he was synthpop icon Howard Jones at his peak in 1985. The performance gets better with every song until I eventually close my eyes and drift into a trance, and the crowd responds with applause and hands raised in metal’s own celebration symbol: the marno cornuta.
On the way out of the smaller stage, I am hit by the sunlight, triggering an absolutely monstrous sneezing frenzy. Luckily, I manage to contain it before taking out any fellow festivalgoers. Phew!
Raised Fist
Next up are Raised Fist, a band I’ve seen several times and genuinely love. Their uncompromising, bone-crushing hardcore has a special place in my heart since my younger days.
The festival grounds have turned into a rush-hour packed IKEA on Friday night, and it feels like there are way more than 15,000 people here. I run into some childhood friends, and we exchange some quick words out of courtesy. I buy a beer, and the people behind the bar are already worried that they’re going to run out because metalheads are just as dedicated to drinking beer as they are to eating burgers and arriving ridiculously early for gigs. Value for money, ey?
Raised Fist kicks off wth a bang, and the singer’s distinctive voice cuts through the air like a knife. The crowd is moving around in such a frenzy that the temperature rises a notch. After a few songs, the band sings Happy Birthday to someone in the audience, followed by some children’s song. I lose a bit of my enthusiasm and retreat from the sea of bodies to watch from a distance. You can’t sip on a beer while trying to fend off people, right?
While watching from a distance, I meet up with The Iron Maiden & Co, and we talk about how insanely many people there are at Bananpiren, while agreeing that Múr were the highlight of the day so far. I buy another beer. The discussion continues about metalheads, band T-shirts and their ever-increasing (beer) prices, how nice it would be to be able to sit down somewhere (middle-aged men need to sit from time to time), and the phenomenon of hive-mind behaviour. Meanwhile, Raised Fist blast out their bangers in the background. In one of the longest beer lines of 2026, we discuss the various challenges of adult life, jobs and sensible footwear. Let’s face it, festivals for people our are equal bits music and therapy. Above all, it’s a chance to whine about life in general.
Gaerea
Now it’s time for Gaerea, one of the main reasons for my excitement to come out tonight. I discovered Gaerea when they played at The Abyss a few years ago, and since then I’ve been through extensive periods of listening to their interpretation of black metal intensely and obsessively.
Gaerea take the stage to some sort of atmospheric and ambient music, dressed in their trademark black outfits with balaclavas. The show begins with beautiful choral voices, and I get goosebumps across my body. It’s just epic! Then everything suddenly erupts into blasting beats and tremolo picking. Moshing is inevitable, but I’m far too old to participate, although my energy levels keep rising with every song until I eventually thrust myself out in the frenzy. Fucking hell, that was amazing! Thank you.
Dark Tranquillity
After the gig, we battle our way through the backlight to find the exit. Lucky for me, I don’t sneeze this time, thus avoiding people looking at me like I deserve a few punches in the face. I barely have time to process what I’ve just experienced before it’s time for Dark Tranquillity.
Dark Tranquillity was one of the bands that shaped my teenage years the most, and I return to them often in life. I think they’ve managed to maintain an impressively high and consistent level of quality for all albums they’ve released, which deserves respect. The last time I saw Dark Tranquillity live must have been at Göteborgskalaset sometime around 2002, so it’s about time for another encounter.
Crowd banter is consistent, and the topic has changed to how Yngwie Malmsteen now looks like Elvis while sharing stories about gigs we’ve been to that probably weren’t as good as we remember them.
Dark Tranquillity take the stage, and Mikael Stanne’s presence strikes me hard. When he gets his claws on the crowd, he absorbs the attention of 15,000 people for the full show while at the same time making the whole shenanigan feel intimate and familiar. They’re incredibly tight, delivering high-quality songs throughout their whole set, and it certainly feels like they might be Gothenburg’s hardest-working metal band.
The tight schedule means I have to leave before the end of the set, all while I’m completely overwhelmed by impressions and struggling to process everything. From the stage, Stanne talks about Tompa’s (At the Gates frontman who passed away last year) influence on the entire scene, and I feel a tear welling up in my eye. Then, suddenly, Dark Tranquillity launch into “Blinded by Fear” by At the Gates, and I stop immediately. This is an important moment in Gothenburg’s metal history.
I’m texting my coterie of peeps, who tell me they cried. I immediately regret leaving my spot. Fuck.
Napalm Death
But now it’s time for the legends: Napalm Death.
I’ve followed this band for years, but have for some reason never seen them live. While waiting in the beer line, again, I start talking to another festival dude who tells me he’s most excited about Thrown, a band I know absolutely nothing about. He’s surprised and happily shares some recommendations which I have to check out tomorrow.
Napalm Death hit the stage before I even made it to the bar. As expected, they open with absolute fury. My arms and my brain struggle to keep up with what’s happening because it’s a teenage dream coming true. The performance has the function of a complete cleansing, both spiritually and physically. Thank you for that; it was needed.
Photographer Bloom and I get some bottled water, and we need to start moving towards Avatar. By now, the beer party has seen its first side effects – people throwing up everywhere – and the lines to the bars have reached record-breaking lengths.
Avatar
I don’t really know Avatar, though I understand they’ve become a very big band over the past few years. For tonight’s performance, they’ve gone all-in on the stage production, and it looks really impressive. I find a spot near the front of house and chill for a while, trying to text friends at the festival but with little luck, and I soon realise that meeting up with anyone is basically impossible. The festival crowd has become a zombie horde.
Avatar appear on stage with matching guitars and their trademark matching stage outfits. The singer launches into the opening song, apparently standing on stilts. At least, that’s what I assume, because the guy is fucking enormous. I appreciate the band’s commitment to going all-in, and I understand why they’ve become so successful. Everything about the production feels super professional, meticulously well-produced down to the smallest detail. It’s just not entirely my thing, though, so I leave after a few songs.
Thrown and the Iron Gang
By now, I’m getting tired and hungry, so I try to find the shortest food line on the entire festival site, but it proves impossible. Instead, I discover something resembling a chair, sit down, and breathe for a while before meeting up with photographer Bloom and his gang of photographer friends. We discuss what’s been best so far, how some bands are easier to shoot than others, and the eternally boring question of photo filters. Soon, Thrown are due to play the smaller stage, and apparently they play, what my coterie told me, something called “modern parka hardcore”. I still don’t know what that means.
I slip inside and position myself near FOH. The smaller stage is absolutely packed. And the band is late. My legs start itching, so does my bladder. I wait ten minutes and then leave. That’s it; when a man has to pee, it’s urgent. At the urinals, some dudes compare their levels of intoxication and try to figure out where I fit on the scale. They win by far.
I reunite with my peeps, who invite me up to ‘Max’s balcony’. There, I am served peanuts for dinner, a few beers, and excellent company. We talk about how the old Hisingen Island bridge took a huge hit the last time In Flames played at the pier, and decided that tonight would be a useful stress test for the new bridge. And of course, the ever-so-important discussion on how to preserve Gothenburg’s cultural life. Love this bunch of weirdos. Plus I really enjoy sitting in a chair.
In Flames
It’s finally time for In Flames, a band I last saw at 200 000 Decibel sometime around 2005.
In Flames have been massively important to me. I think Clayman is probably one of the albums I’ve listened to more than anything else in my life. The band is also one of the main reasons I started playing music myself.
Before the show, I obviously have to visit the urinal, and as men in a group do, we spontaneously sing Eddie Meduza songs. There’s no festival without Eddie. Beautiful.
In Flames begin, and at the exact moment they walk onto the stage, the rain starts. It doesn’t really matter, though. The band defeats the rain by throwing banger after banger at the crowd, accompanied by a massive pyro show and some impressive visuals. Eventually, I get cold and leave my friends to find a toilet. As I make my way through the crowd, I start longing for the band’s early material. Eventually, they deliver, and I lose myself completely. They play “Only for the Weak”, and the whole of Hisingen starts shaking.
Final thoughts
I leave the festival grounds, but unfortunately I can’t stop thinking about one of In Flames’ between-song speeches. I found it dumb, unnecessary, and privileged. Overall, though, I’m very happy with the festival. There are, of course, a few problems to address that really need to be worked out before next year – and I sincerely hope there is a next year, because Gothenburg needs a metal festival.
Walking home through the night, I listen to Dark Tranquillity’s The Mind’s I while I’m thinking about good old memories from the past. Thank you for this experience, Göteborg Brinner.
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Photographer: Richard Bloom
Writer: Emil Gustavsson
