This is the third day recap of the Milwaukee Metal Fest. If you landed here without reading the previous days, you can find the day one recap here and the day two recap here.
It must have been in the mid-2000s that I first noticed that metal concerts were becoming family outings. Timing-wise, it would track that many 80s metal kids would be married and start having children by the early 90s, which I’m certain contributed to metal’s decline during the onset of alternative rock. Many of these young parents needed to realign their priorities in the face of their new responsibilities, and their love of metal simply took a seat in the back of the minivan, with booster seats and sippy cups occupying that vaulted middle row.
This was certainly the case for me, and the withdrawals I felt when I started spending more money on diapers and kiddie clothing than I did on records and concert tickets were even more intense than I’d anticipated. Metal was a huge part of my identity, and giving so much of it up for the benefit of my child was more painful than I care to admit. But I regret it not at all. And you’ve got to admit it’s pretty fucking adorable when your three year old calls you “death metal daddy.”
But kids really do grow up overnight, and I was one of the many parents who’d occasionally take my kid to a Nightwish, Devin Townsend, or Trans-Siberian Orchestra concert. One couple I know would take all three of their kids to concerts on the regular, and we were certainly not the only families who would do this sort of thing. I continue to see it to this day, with many couples I know spending a significant amount of money to take their kids with them to ProgPower and even 70,000 Tons of Metal. So I was a bit surprised to see a dearth of festgoers with their kids in tow at Milwaukee Metal Fest. There certainly were a handful – I fondly recall watching a dude using a large inflatable pool toy to play catch with his young daughter in between bands in the Eagles Ballroom – but I also noticed that most parents who brought their kids to metal it up had one thing in common: they were all roughly my age. And props to them for having the wisdom to wait a bit before birthing any crotch goblins. But at least I was able to chase my kid around without hurting myself.
Roughly a third of the crowd were in their 20s, though, and presumably hadn’t become parents. And even they had the courtesy to mind their manners when in the presence of children; not once did we see any inappropriate behavior when there were kids nearby. No aggression and no foul language, but plenty of caution when a kid was spotted near the edge of a pit. This is not unique to Milwaukee Metal Fest, but it often seems unique to metal shows – we’ve all seen parents misbehave at purportedly family-friendly settings like picnics, theme parks, and little league games, and those parents could stand to learn a thing or two from the tatted-up heavy metal mushbrains who attend these shows.
It brings to mind what Jamey Jasta told the crowd during the SOD Tribute set: “Milwaukee Metal Fest is family.” The normies can beat their chests about how virtuous they are all they want; we’re in there doing the actual work while making it a point to not bring attention to ourselves over it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go fist bump that kid over there for wearing that badass Maiden shirt.
All this leads us to state the obvious: the vibe at Milwaukee Metal Fest is warm. There’s no judgment among these peers because, regardless of where we are in life or how we live it, we’re just that: peers. The general feelings of inclusiveness and the embrace of difference were so prevalent and well evidenced that they were barely noticed. We often hear of queer folks, people of color, etc getting harassed for no good reason, but reports of those things happening at metal shows were rare in my youth and are even rarer now. I’m no sociologist, and I have no data to know how to analyze in front of me, but I suspect that we owe this to the marginalization many metalheads faced in their formative years.
We hated that shit, and we’re not about to perpetuate it. The Satanist will pick up the Christian who gets knocked down in the pit as a nearby gal in a hijab screams along with the music while throwing the metal horns. The vegan will chug brews with the guy holding a half-eaten cheeseburger. The older couple will befriend the gay couple and watch out for their safety without being asked to do so. Everyone is there for one reason: to metal it up, and we’ll be damned if we’re going to try to steal that joy from others. Want to experience the antithesis to all this? Well, you’ve got plenty of options, but very few of those are metal shows, and those that are don’t deserve your time or money.
You know who deserves your time and money? Deep Within. We’d never heard of this young band before, but they were literally everywhere, and pretty hard to miss. Not content to wear their outlandish stage outfits just on stage, these guys roamed The Rave the entire length of the fest decked out in makeup that was equal parts kabuki, skeletal goth, and corpse paint, and you don’t need us to tell you that this was a wise move on their part. Both in the venue and in the streets, random passersby could not help but shout them out, chat them up, and ask to take selfies with them. This simple act of networking paid off – Deep Within played to an overwhelmingly enthusiastic crowd, which is no mean feat considering they were assigned roughly forty minutes at 2PM on a Sunday.
Undeterred, these El Lay natives snapped their audience right the fuck out of their hangovers and bangovers with a frenetic performance that belied what in years past would have been considered a gimmick. What sets Deep Within apart from certain heavily made-up nu metal bands of yore is that their music lives up to their theatrics; the songs are catchy and concise, the band shreds when appropriate, and permanently top-hatted frontman/ actor Matt Wiggins (whose singing made us do double takes several times) engages with the audience as if he’s been doing it for decades. Deep Within’s image is absolutely not a distraction from their music, but rather an augmentation to their live experience. Even more remarkably, this band has only been at it for about three years, but their commitment to making meaningful music and entertaining the fuck out their crowds while performing it make them a band to watch out for.
We were both so taken by Deep Within’s performance and dedication that we immediately arranged to do a lengthy interview in conjunction with our friends Lily and Rocky at KNAC.com, and followed that quite enjoyable chat with a photoshoot that started at the site of one fatal tragedy and ended at the site of another. By doing this, we sacrificed a few sets, but were happy to help out a band whose talent and ambition (to say nothing of an endorsement from Max Cavalera) deserve their success.
Sunday night was my first time seeing Arch Enemy since 2004, when they were two albums into Angela Gossow’s time with the band, so it was also my first time seeing them with new guitarist Joey Concepcion and new-ish singer Alissa White-Gluz. Though I still lament both Christopher Amott’s absence and the fact that I never saw Nevermore legend Jeff Loomis fill Amott’s shoes, there’s no denying that Joey is doing a solid job playing parts written by those monsters. Longtime rhythm section Daniel Erlandsson and Sharlee D’Angelo lock together flawlessly, and bandleader Michael Amott humbly conducts the orchestra while ceding the spotlight to his very capable frontwoman.
And take the spotlight she does: this vocalist extraordinaire emerged bedecked in scales, menacingly writhing like a cyborg serpent and entrancing her audience as if she’d just been inducted into the Metal Hall of Fame or something. When not delivering a roar unbecoming of someone of such diminutive stature, her head would morph into an electric blue vortex, whirling and spinning like a goddamn dreidel. With a sleek, leonine grace seldom seen on death metal stages – she twirls her mic as if it were a drum stick, for fuck’s sake – her presence commands attention like no other musician in her league, to the point that we must wonder whether it was her skill or her absolutely stunning appearance that got Doyle Wolfgang von Frankenstein’s attention in the first place. And to think some people insist you need to eat meat to perform like this. Pfft.
Arch Enemy sound as tight as they ever have, and they’ve been playing this game long enough that slaughtering a stage comes as naturally to them as farting does. It’s also pretty damn clear that Alissa and her bandmates honor each other enough to yield command to the other as the performance dictates, and while there are plenty of dudes who could stand to learn a thing or two from this dynamic, we’d be remiss to overlook how much of an inspiration Alissa is to the young women out there who admire her. This gal’s got it, and we giggle at the thought of all the douchey dudes out there who are intimated by a tiny blue-haired vegan chick from French Canada absolutely wiping the floor with their fragile little egos. I never thought I’d see the day where Arch Enemy would perform to a crowd of this size in the United States, and incorporate the occasional clean vocal while doing so. But it sure was worth the wait
While Dave Brockie was the unquestioned life of the GWAR party, the band did his legacy a solid by continuing the band to honor his legacy. Now active for over forty years, GWAR’s messy and over the top antics have only gotten more ridiculous – Blothar, Balsac, and crew executed one petulant tech bro, one divisive pop star, and no less than two deserving world leaders, soaking their rabid, white T shirt clad megafans with the blood and guts that are the true centerpiece of the GWAR experience. One might think that such a spectacle would get old after four freaking decades, but there is something undeniably charming about seeing a bunch of alien warrior rejects live out our most misanthropic fantasies while dishing out some of the most raucous and tasteless music ever to have been committed to medium. It’s not unreasonable to assert that much of GWAR’s crowd tonight were here to escape the drudgery of modern life (and we heard literally no one complaining about who they executed that night), but what GWAR offers on top of well deserved acrimony is really just good clean fun in the guise of sadism.
Their humor is not for everyone, and that’s completely okay. Anyone who isn’t aware of the GWAR schtick by this point has only themselves to blame for their ignorance. The whole act is silly and absurd, and if you’re not in on the joke, you can just excuse yourself while those of us serious enough to not take ourselves too seriously bask in the self-aware stupidity of such cheerful ditties as “Womb With a View, “El Presidente,” and “Lot Lizard.” We’re having something you’re clearly incapable of having: a great fucking time. I can think of no greater way to close a weekend that celebrates a genre as over the top as metal is.
One of the many draws Milwaukee Metal Fest’s initial run had was the opportunity to see a plethora of bands American audiences would likely never see without leaving the continent. By necessity, this is simply no longer the case. Owing to the absolutely irrational process foreign bands must undergo just to legally perform in the United States, it is no longer financially feasible for most bands or promoters to dole out in excess of six thousand dollars per band and crew member within a very tight window just to get a ball rolling that might not even reach its destination.
Bands then have little option to tour the US just for the opportunity to earn that money back, so what in the past might have been a modestly successful run through the States might now leave bands in the red. As a result, there are very few exclusive US appearances at Milwaukee Metal Fest, Maryland Death Fest, ProgPower USA, and other US events, and that in turn makes undertaking the journey to these fests a much less appetizing endeavor. It sucks, it’s stupid, and not only does it benefit no one, it also puts an already difficult pursuit even more out of reach for bands who merely want to perform here. It also has the ripple effect of driving up ticket prices and keeping customers away from local vendors and service staff, like bartenders and food truck owners. If there’s an upside to any of this, please bring it to my attention.
In the face of this adversity, Milwaukee Metal Fest 2025 was a triumph, bringing in no fewer than 55 bands of varying styles. Whether you favor old-school metal, gore/grind, death metal, black metal, thrash, melodeath, progressive metal, or nu metal, you have plenty of options. The fest could certainly cater more to power metal and folk metal nerds, though – my most recent treks on the 70,000 Tons of Metal cruise proved definitively that those bands get the most hyped crowds. It never occurred to me that Korpiklanni and Stratovarius would incite more crowd surfing than Kreator or Destruction, but being in the photo pit during those bands’ performances did more to quicken my reflexes than getting caught in the mosh at the most brütal death metal shows I’ve attended ever did.
A word about the event staff: they were fucking pros. Each and every staff member was kinder, more helpful, and more generous with their time than most staffers at sporting events. The pit bouncers in particular were endowed with lightning-quick reflexes, rapidly and gently catching crowd surfers and getting them back into the crowd safely, even with the inevitable spillage that typifies a GWAR set, and without fail, they warned or straight-up shoved us photographers out of harm’s way if a boot was inadvertently lunging towards our skulls or our gear. This is the kind of staff you want at an event like this, and we’re grateful to them for watching out for the universal Us without getting in the way of our debauchery. The crowd itself was miles and miles of smiles; I’ve encountered more hostility at fucking church than could be found in this sea of black leather, pentagrams, and baphomets. We didn’t have a single negative interaction the entire weekend, and the only guy I saw who’d imbibed past his limit was more obnoxious than he was threatening. If you’re looking to have a good time, you could do far worse than Milwaukee Metal Fest.
For all its architectural beauty, The Rave felt labyrinthine for my entire first day (attendees might consider mapping out their journey until they get to know the place), and the structure sure could use elevators. We navigated the two multi-tiered venues with relative ease, and the two flights of stairs that led to the Eagles Ballroom were not too challenging for our middle-aged knees. But again, anyone with mobility impairments or bringing small children is gonna have a rough time getting to the big stage. This is not within the festival’s jurisdiction to address, but the venue ownership could stand to consider making this otherwise fantastic venue just a hair more accessible. On the upside, navigating those stairs over three days was akin to doing about fifty thousand squats and burpees, so our calves look absolutely swol now, our lung capacity has roughly tripled, and I have finally grown an ass.
The weather was a welcome respite from the triple-digit temps Texas is already enduring. The temperature on Day 2 peaked at about 62 degrees Fahrenheit, and it dipped into the lower to mid-40s the following day. For once, I was glad to have not gotten around to packing up my winter clothing – as much as I adore these cooler climes, Central Texas already feels like the goddamn tropics this time of year, and I’d already acclimated to that punishing heat. It didn’t take long at all to adapt, though, and the surprisingly flavorful food options would have made even freezing temperatures worthwhile. The pizza was tasty, the tacos and quesadillas were legit, the tikka masala smelled divine, and the beer options offered way more than local brewing giants Pabst and Miller (though the former is actually headquartered in my fair city of San Antonio). And as ever, every attendee, staffer, and vendor treated all with the welcoming kindness the Midwest is known for.
Regardless of the metal you favor, you’ll feel comfortable in this curiously affable metal haven. The roster was strong, the performances stronger, and the vibe super cash money, making the experience of finally reaching Avalon absolutely worth the trouble traveled to get there. Milwaukee Metal Fest was a fantastic new experience shared with friends, both new and old. A return just might be in order.
Words by Crissy Dansak and Gonzalo E. Pozo
Photos by Crissy Dansak
