Once upon a time, there was a gothic church. And somewhere nearby – Count Dracula’s castle. Once upon a time, there was a town called Râșnov, at the foot of the church ruins, and in it – a festival.
Once upon a time, there was the year 2025, and with it, the last time Rockstadt Extreme Fest would be held at its old location. For those who’ve been waiting ten years, there’s only one chance left. The eleventh and final one.
The weather was pleasant, almost spring-like – the kind you only get in the Romanian mountains at the end of July. Around 2:30 p.m. (because when else would a metal festival begin?), as if someone from the ancient church ruins above whispered to the skies, the rain began to fall – and so started Rockstadt Extreme Fest.
Three stages, ruins, and endless forest. With that kind of setting, sunshine wouldn’t even make sense. There’s parking – for the first fifteen minutes. Boots are essential, though metalheads would wear them anyway. Dark outfits take on a whole new meaning when layered with colorful (sometimes even themed) rain ponchos. Some were determined – horns, costumes, hats, and chains stayed on, no matter what. Umbrellas, though much needed, remained closed – out of respect.
There was makeup too – corpse paint like from a black metal band, though seemingly applied by a less skilled, childlike hand (that’s the spirit of the festival) – melting as soon as you took your first steps into the crowd. The only thing that charmingly clashed with all the metal, darkness, and Dracula vibes was a neon-pink ice cream stand. And a two-meter-tall person in knee-high boots, covered in studs from head to toe, holding that same ice cream cone and looking like the sweetest thing in the world.
So – boots, something to wear on your head, nerves of steel for the crowd, and a few layers (say, a T-shirt from one band and a hoodie from another), and you’ve got your survival kit.
The rain spirits, however, didn’t stick around forever. Just before Katatonia came on, the mud reached its final form, and the rain switched to intermittent mode. If catatonia is a psychiatric syndrome marked by abnormal movement and behavior, often linked to mental illness or melancholy – well, the band’s frontman, Jonas, is definitely none of that. And if you think this kind of band can’t be listened to in daylight – you’d be absolutely wrong.
– Are you having a great time? – Jonas asked. The crowd’s reply wasn’t enough.
– Are you, really? – he repeated, almost shyly. Yes, of course it was good.
A new album and lineup changes, but as soon as “My Twin” began, it was the same old Katatonia. The crowd sang along in unison. And Jonas, who would probably blush at any moment – if only that didn’t ruin his metal frontman look.
– Are you gonna listen to Emperor? – he grinned – Me too.
Picks, drumsticks, setlists flew through the air. The security team stepped up, passing every record to the band to sign – and there were tears of joy all around.
After Katatonia came Zeal & Ardor. Not their first time at the festival, but for those who hadn’t heard them yet – there’s a good chance they became hardcore fans by the end of the set.
– If you want to sing along to anything, please do – another genuinely nice frontman.
The rain spirits returned just in time – as the band announced (or rather politely requested) more aggressive tracks, a downpour erupted. After their most intense number, “Clawing Out,” they left the crowd in a changeover moment with a combo of “Holy Diver” and “I Write Sins Not Tragedies.” And since the beer lines were literally hundreds of meters long, your options were: the remix or the next stage.
So – the new stage: Unprocessed, performing in Romania for the first time. Judging by the general reaction, it won’t be their last. German progressive metalcore. Or, if that’s not clear enough – Polyphianesque, just three years younger. They asked for more crowd surfers. A dozen people were carried overhead. They asked everyone to get down on the ground – no one stayed standing. This festival’s crowd obeys every command.
– You’re really living it up in the rain! – the bassist said. And he was right. A little wet, but pretty amazing.
While the younger crowd (and some of the older folks – band members included) were pouring their hearts out at the side stage, the veterans – Mastodon – took over the main one, alongside fans of more traditional metal.
Since no one has really recovered from Ozzy’s death, they played “Supernaut” as a tribute. Because, as they said – without Ozzy, none of us would be here. Not them onstage, not us in the crowd.
Meanwhile, on the neighboring stage, a machine was being prepped – naturally, for Machine Head.
Somewhere in the crowd was a guy holding a sign: “Moshpit HERE.” He probably had no idea what that sign would unleash in just a few minutes.
The banner onstage read “Machine Fuck*ing Head.” The intro was “Bohemian Rhapsody.” No need to mention that no one stayed silent.
They opened with “Imperium” – fireworks, pyro, and brutal mosh pits. Bloody mosh pits.
God help you if you fall during one. Either you get trampled or you’re neck-deep in mud. They asked for “the biggest circle pit the festival has ever seen.” Just imagine.
– Put your fists up and smash those hammers! – and if you’re wondering what hammers, one flew in from the stage: giant rubber ones. About twenty of them.
– To all of my beer drinkers on a Wednesday night! – Rob toasted. And then came another deadly pit.
If you were more into pagan deities and Danish folk metal, you caught Myrkur on the smaller stage. Ivy wrapped around the mic, fairy-like beauty, angelic voice.
– I don’t care what you believe in. You are gonna sing with me. – and we could only nod and follow the command: “Odin, Odin, Odin…”.
If you remember the mud-drenched pits on the main stage – Coma brought something else: mosh pits on concrete, at the second stage. You got to choose – muddy or bloody knees. Wet, no doubt. Take your pick.
But they didn’t just bring next-level pits. They brought a whole new level of stage performance – including a pole dancer.
With all the gear and energy you had, you survived day one. Twelve hours. Someone’s double shift. The festival goes on for four more days. Time to grab some cooling gel, so you don’t end up with a sore neck from the start.
Shazam was working overtime. If you went home on day one with a double-digit number of new song likes – you know what kind of festival this is.
To close the day, Ozzy’s “Dreamer” played through the speakers – for all those whose childhood dreams came true on day one.
J. Ilić/HL
