Gut Reactions (post-gig memories and other trips): Maid of Stone Festival, Mote Park, Maidstone. Day 2. Saturday 18th July, 2026.

Memories of Saturday

Saturday was a bit cooler initially, with overhead clouds and zero chance of rain. Scott had a sore throat, so we stopped in at the local Boots for some throat lozenges on the way to the park.

My view of today's acts:

Haxan, a female Welsh trio, initially held my attention, but after a couple of songs I wandered away.

Untamed Silence: I didn't even get to the end of their first song before I bailed. Their look reminded me of a wedding/pub band. I didn't engage with their music.

Xander & The Peace Pirates were superb. I didn't know the singer/guitarist was missing a hand, but if playing the guitar was a Paralympian event, he'd win gold. Great band!

Kit Trigg has been a favourite of mine for a while and today's set only increased my enjoyment of them. Vibing a boy band feel, only with rocking tunes in a variety of joyous styles, Kit Trigg have the talent to become rockstars. One day their time will come.

The bassist complimented the audience on their plethora of hats: "There's even one over there waving at me." I turn around and see Bob's pink unicorn hat clapping.

Goin' For Glory (with extra arms from the people in front)

I watched Girlschool from afar. I felt a pang of nostalgia hearing their old-school heavy rock, taking me back to Bonfest last year.

I skipped Rattlesnakes in favour of the VIP acoustic set from LN. Wow, what a surprise (and not in a bad way). I was not familiar with them before the festival. Dressed like extras from a Robert Eggers folk horror, LN is a five-piece Pagan and Viking metal band based in Newcastle-upon-Tyne, UK. Formed in 2021, they blend heavy modern metal with atmospheric folk, witchcraft, and Norse mythology (description from Google). Singer Ellen Hirst is an imposing figure with her long dreadlocks and stage makeup, dominating the crowd through force of will, regarding us as her peasants (she explains that's the term of endearment for their fans). Her sense of humour elevated the performance, ensuring we knew this was a show. Bob warns me the acoustic experience is nothing like their normal show. I'm intrigued.

Phil Campbell's Bastard Sons earn a large crowd in tribute to their late father, the former Motorhead guitarist. They retain that Motorhead spirit, even finishing on a couple of covers, Born To Raise Hell and Killed by Death. I appreciate them from afar.

LN's proper set is a completely different experience, best described as deranged. Ellen is in full weird pagan priestess character. The sound is heavy, as are the vocals. At one point she brings out a head on a stick (Donny, their mascot); at another, she bathes in sacrificial blood. She calls for the audience to split in half to form a battle line. We were to face off against our opposite in what effectively became a mosh pit. I back away. I'm not engaging. I laugh, though, when Dave, one of Bob's pals, wearing an Elmo hat, whips out his Elmo puppet to present his enemy with two opponents, him and the puppet. He didn't enjoy the mosh, though, as someone struck him on the back of the head. I guess they weren't a fan of the Muppets.

Snippet of Ellen's derangement.

I grab a burger and chips, along with a drink while Danko Jones performs. I can't find anywhere to sit and end up standing in VIP at a trestle table whose benches have been poached.

By this time, fatigue is returning, so I go for a wander and eventually find a seat in the Roadhouse tent and listen to Battle Born. I like that style of fast-paced metal, but only sometimes and not today, not when I'm feeling exhausted. Their cover of Judas Priest's Electric Eye went down well. I head down to the main stage to catch Doro.

At sixty-two, Doro Pesch still has the glamour and style of a rock queen. I only know two of her songs from her time in Warlock, but hope to be impressed. It's all a bit predictable. The fist pumping, the calls for hey-hey-hey-hey. Her cover of Judas Priest's Breaking The Law was a highlight. I've seen her now. I don't need to again.

Two things pissed me off during the set. My elderly Mum phoned and left a silent message, then didn't reply to my text (she still never got back to me - I had to ask my wife to check in on her). The second thing was getting a whole pint of beer splashed over the calf of my trousers and right shoe, the drunk behind me discovering he couldn't hold three full tumblers at the same time. He became irritatingly apologetic, insisting over and over that it was an accident. What a way to ruin a teetotaler's night - soaking them in beer.

The Virginmarys held no interest for me, the memories of being deafened by them at La Belle Angele still vivid in my mind. I waited for Saxon.

I couldn't reach the barrier, so I found a spot relatively close behind some small people. Perfect! Only I was downwind of some smokers. I changed location only for others to light up too. It felt like being at the Barrowland in the 80's, my throat burning, my clothes stinking. Finally, I found somewhere else to stand with a clear view.

Then, as the band came on, a youth and his girlfriend pushed in beside me. He was exceedingly drunk. He held an unlit cigarette in his hand, along with a tumbler of beer. He'd drunk enough of it that, when he raised his cup to salute the band, none of it spilt, but only just. He'd look around as if his brain was operating on a delay, smile at his girlfriend and then frown when she looked at him like he was an embarrassment (which he was). Then, after some effort, he lit his cigarette, holding it in such a way that the lit end projected from between his fingers. He'd then forget about it, letting the ash grow long. Turning his body, looking around, the glowing tip of the cigarette threatened to burn a hole in my shirt. I bent my body away, but he was oblivious, too busy watching the people around. A female nearby took the initiative and guided his arm away from me. He leaned back and smiled at her, nearly stumbling in the process. He ruined the show for me, having to keep one eye on his behaviour instead of appreciating the band.

One thing that struck me about Saxon was how much Biff Byford reminds me of Jeremy Clarkson: both overweight and proudly English, both alive thanks to heart stents, both nostalgic for the past. I don't know which one sings better.

The way the second day ended was enough for me to decide this would be my last Maid of Stone.

Saxon Setlist:

Intro from tape The Prophecy

Hell, Fire and Damnation

Power and the Glory

Dogs of War

And the Bands Played On

Madame Guillotine

Sacrifice

The Eagle Has Landed

(Crowd given choice between this or Broken Heroes)

Heavy Metal Thunder