Hell is where the heart is: Party.San Metal Open Air 2026
Afterwards, everyone who’d been there looked a bit dazed.
That’s the thing I keep coming back to about Sunken‘s set in the tent on Saturday. Not the sound, though the sound was massive: atmospheric black metal wrapped around you like a blanket, if the blanket were dark and faintly crushing. It was the crowd. People who probably hadn’t even heard name before the festival walked out of the Tent Stage afterward looking genuinely stunned, like they weren’t quite sure what had just happened to them.
WELCOME TO HELL, says the sign above the entrance – we’re back. Metal Exposure has made the trip to the airfield at Obermehler near Schlotheim more times than I can count, and every year I’m relieved by how little Party.San feels the need to reinvent itself. It’s compact enough to actually navigate, heavier and less carnival than Wacken, and stocked with the basics that make three days outdoors bearable: shaded seating, clean toilets, no absurd queues, a chicken leg that’s somehow become non-negotiable for me every year, and a coffee stand whose importance by day three cannot be overstated. Almost no kids around either, unlike somewhere like Dong Open Air, which I don’t mind at all.
Thursday
Every day here starts the same way: the air raid alarm goes off, Esmeralda fires twice, and then it’s game on. Thursday it was Sarcator taking the Main Stage at quarter to two, and from there the weekend just kept moving.
Thursday’s wind was the one real complication, and it hit right where you’d expect: out in the open, on the exposed Main Stage. Both 200 Stab Wounds and Iotunn lost their top end somewhere over the Thuringian countryside in the early afternoon, not that it stopped a mosh pit and circle pit from forming absurdly early. Meanwhile in the tent, sheltered from all of it, Morbus Dei delivered one of the day’s better sets.
Ready for something completely different? Well, brace yourselves, for the Rats of Gomorrah are here to eat at your conformity. Both is musical and in literal sense. A two-piece performance, drums and a guitar/vocalist. Before you think Bolzer or Inquisition: no, nothing of the sort. Expect fast shredding, and punk(isch) influenced blasting and harsh, fast vocals. A wonderful show, and a welcome change from formulaic performances.
By the time the tent handed things over to Sear Bliss to close out Thursday, I’d already decided this was where I wanted to spend my weekend. Partly taste, since a lot of the black metal on the bill ended up scheduled there, but mostly the room itself, which suited these bands in a way the open air never quite managed. That’s despite the downsides. It gets brutally hot in there, and by the weekend’s end we’d learn what a circle pit does to a dry airfield inside a tent (dust, everywhere, permanently). Sear Bliss made the case well anyway. Their trombone sounds like it shouldn’t work in a black metal band, and then it does, adding a strange, almost majestic weight to the whole set.
The Main Stage had its moments too. Lamp of Murmuur stepped in for Desaster and pulled a genuinely impressive crowd for a last-minute replacement, and Sventevith, Nergal revisiting Behemoth’s earliest black metal material, was clearly more than just another festival slot. The crowd’s curiosity was palpable, and whatever you think of the man personally, Nergal knows how to run a stage. But confessions must be made, as good as a frontman Nergal is, the true honour of the performance must go to Misthyrming. What an amazing (live) band they are, spot on and totally nailed it. That one earned its reverence.
Moonspell and Testament, both later on the Main Stage, didn’t top Sventevith their performance. Not because either played badly. Moonspell was tight and hit all the expected marks (opening the show with such a classic like Opium is a bold move), and Testament went all-in on the stage show, elaborate and a little kitschy depending on your tolerance for theatrics, with a crowd that was clearly loving every minute. My attention just kept drifting. Maybe Testament suffered from their own past: I’ve seen them nail it before, and this felt routine by comparison. Maybe I was tired, maybe too sober. Either way, two of the day’s bigger names, and neither made our personal highlight reel.
Friday
Friday only means one thing at Party.San: time to be an idiot again during the annually Grindcore Breakfast, and Guttural Slug‘s grindcore wake-up call on the Main Stage did the job. Chaotic and colourful, and just the right amount of ridiculous to start the day.
Someone once said: you should listen to some Dissection!. I would like to rephrase that to: you should listen to some Swedish 90s black / death metal. In this collection, besides the (semi)obvious ones like Dawn, Mork Gryning and Vinterland, one can find A Canorous Quintet. Melodic, mid-tempo riffing and some mesmerizing weaving in a haunted, eyrie sound setting. Large homage was paid (and played) to the album The Silence of the World Beyond (1996, highly recommended, you should listen to it). Perhaps the band would be better suited to less sun infested timeslot, but I massively enjoyed the set.
Sorcerer pulled a decent crowd on the Main Stage for how early their slot was, but the tent was already stacking up the day’s best moments. Nail by Nail brought a wall of noise and appropriately messy corpse paint, and their name conveniently answers two unrelated questions: how was Jesus crucified, and how do you build a house? (I’ll see myself out.) Death Worship kept the noise going after them, fast, dirty, no interest in compromise, though we ducked out before the end, because Wolves in the Throne Room were about to start on the Main Stage.
Then it was Wolves in the Throne Room’s turn on the Main Stage, and this was one of the day’s clear highlights. They took a while to find their footing, not helped by technical issues at the start, but once it clicked, it properly clicked. Atmospheric black metal is supposed to need misty forests and fog thick enough to lose a village in. Blazing sun on a Thuringian airfield is about as far from that as you can get, and somehow it stopped mattering. At one point they cleansed the stage with what looked like burning sage. With most bands that would read as a bit much. Here it just fit, and by the end it was a genuinely mesmerizing performance.
Then straight back to the tent for Lucifer’s Child. There’s an obvious Rotting Christ connection (guitarist George Emmanuel spent years in that band), but Lucifer’s Child feels heavier and meaner, less polished around the edges. Dark and energetic, unashamedly Satanic, which is pretty much my thing musically and otherwise, and it doesn’t hurt that they’re easy on the eyes too. The circle pit kicked up so much dust that breathing became genuinely questionable at points; it didn’t take anything away from the set.
Around for some time (2015), the ladies of Asagraum have coalesced live to a solid performing machine. Really tight guitars, mortally hammering blast beats and a tortured and unique vocal sound – thereabouts would be my attempt at a condensed description. This however would do injustice to the otherworldly atmosphere that emanates from both the albums and the live shows – a rapture of 90s inspired black, with a twist of melody that might invoke accessibility for those who dare. In the set a mix of both old, older and new material, all the inner daemonic needs were satisfied during this show.
As much as they released our inner demon, as much Alcest manifests the opposite. Their dreamy and peaceful sound were the yin to Asagraum’s yang. This is not their first rodeo on Party San and they seemed to be glad to be back. This is a band that never disappoints and their mesmerizing show proofed that once again.
Dark Funeral took the Main Stage later that evening with the tight, vicious set you’d expect from a band with their history, including the obligatory crowd demand for a “HAIL SATAN!”, delivered without needing to be asked twice. It was a solid, professional set without any real surprises.
Amorphis closed out the Main Stage this day, and as much as a great live band they are, and tight of a performance they played, they didn’t seem to be the (right) headliner. Even though they got people going crazy on classics as ‘Black Winter Day’ and ‘House of Sleep’, many seemed to have left the infield already. Maybe their sound isn’t hard enough? Extreme enough? A bit too modern? Maybe not as tr00 as Dark Funeral? Who will say, at least we and enough maniacs with us enjoyed their show.
Saturday
Did I mention you should listen to 90s Swedish death metal? Well in case you’ve missed A Canorous Quintet, you got a second chance at Gates of Ishtar. A bit more up-tempo, remotely riffing like At the Gates, these Swedes also entertained my wandering soul (damn, I missed some of the grand names from the 90s when I was either too young or caught in the folk-metal nettle). Well, art and beauty never really die, perhaps it needs years before ripening to proper appreciation.
They were followed up by Hexvessel, another band that was a little out of place in the middle of the day, during the hottest, sunniest moment of the day. Their moves made up a lot for it though and the brave fans who conquered the sun for them were treated by an entertaining show.
What happens when you want to play a song live for the first time and it doesn’t really go as planned? Well, Into The Woods knows how to work around that, and simply went for a ‘take 2!’, when they accidentally messed up a little. Thankfully the crowd were in a forgiving mood because the band rocked the rest of their entire show with a lot of enthusiasm, probably one of the most enthusiastic bands this weekend!
Baxaxaxa kicked off the tent’s afternoon on Saturday with a set that didn’t bother with subtlety: brutal and filthy, everything you want from raw black metal in a dark room. Out on the Main Stage, Groza went a different direction, pulling the crowd inward instead of attacking it, the kind of set where you stop tracking individual moments and just sink into the atmosphere. And then, back in the tent: Sunken, the set I opened this whole thing with. By the time it ended I was fairly sure I already had my top three, and nothing that followed changed it.
Marduk hit the Main Stage with something a lot less meditative: fast and hostile, utterly relentless, the kind of set you’d expect from them. The Blond Beast landed as well as you’d expect, and after an evening of hypnotic black metal it was almost a relief to get hit with something this blunt.
Closer act and – yes, you’ve guessed right – a returning theme: Swedish 90s (and 00s, 10s, 20s) death metal; the masters of alien abduction and melodic addictive tunes. None other than Hypocrisy. A band that never disappoints, in my humble – if biased – opinion. With their impressive ouvre, they can pick and choses what favourites to play. Of course, already having ‘Fire in the Sky’ as second track (damn it, I was still taking pictures!) was a bit soon for the apotheosis, but hell, so much more to enjoy after. Especially Chemical Whore and (not often heard) Death Row (No Regrets) was a pleasure; although Adjusting the Sun and Rosswell 47 were of course not omitted. The Swedes gave a such a solid quality show, you almost think it’s easy. Until you give the voice of lead Peter Tägtren a second thought, such a grand spectrum of grunts, screams and sonorous vocals – he does it all – with solos in between. Perhaps I have seen them a tad more enthusiastic earlier this year (Ragnarok), they still did an awesome job in closing this by now favourite festival of the year for me
The bands are only half of what makes this festival work, and none of the rest of it happens on either stage. The campsite stays manageable. There are parties, obviously, this is still a metal festival, but nobody decided the whole field needed their terrible music at 4am, which is more than I can say for some other festivals I won’t name. The official tent afterparties were honestly the one letdown of the weekend; they could’ve leaned harder into being shameless fun instead of clearing out fast once the bands stopped. Somebody apparently got the memo on Saturday, when an ABBA hour finally happened, but I was already in bed by then, facing the deeply un-metal reality of having to drive home the next day.
One tradition we never skip: every Saturday night someone from our camp shows up with an unreasonable stash of glowsticks. They get thrown into the crowd, and afterward everyone gathers around the whisky and cocktail stand for one last round. It has nothing to do with black metal credibility and I don’t care; it’s one of my favourite moments of the whole weekend. There’s always something bittersweet about that last drink: everyone still laughing, glowsticks still flying, everybody already knowing what it means.
Welcome home
I keep landing on the same conclusion every year: Party.San doesn’t need a funfair or a sprawling line-up to justify itself. Serious extreme metal, an audience that knows what it’s there for, two stages you can actually get between, decent facilities, room for things to get properly stupid. It’s not perfect. The tent turns into a sauna, the dust gets into your lungs rather than just looking atmospheric, the afterparties could use more actual party.
But the thing that’s stuck with me most this year is that my three favourites weren’t the names on top of the poster. Wolves in the Throne Room, Sunken, Lucifer’s Child: one that slowly built into something hypnotic on the Main Stage, one that left an entire tent looking stunned, one that combined great black metal, Satan and good-looking men. You show up with names circled on the running order and leave talking about the ones you never saw coming. That’s the whole appeal of a festival like this.
HELL IS HERE, says the banner over the Main Stage, same as it’s said for as long as I can remember. WELCOME TO HELL, says the sign over the gate. By now, hell feels remarkably like home.
