Milwaukee Metal Fest 2025

As the old saying goes, “Third time’s the charm!” ‘Twas a mid May weekend, and yours truly found himself in a carful of headbanger hooligans, making my way up north from Chicago to Milwaukee for the third edition of the Jamey Jasta-curated Milwaukee Metal Fest. After attending two and a half days in 2023, and two days in 2024, this year, I got the full MMF treatment, starting with the Thursday pre-fest and concluding with Sunday night’s gore-tastic grand finale (more on that later). And guess what? I lived to tell about it! Without further ado, here’s the largely good, sparsely bad, and whole lotta ugly (in the Piledriver tradition, of course) of Milwaukee Metal Fest 2025.

PRE-FEST – THURSDAY, MAY 15

Jasta and Friends

As we drove into downtown Milwaukee, we were greeted by a torrential downpour, complete with a dazzling display of lightning and hurricane-like winds. Somebody cue “Raining Blood”! After sheltering in place for the better part of a half hour, we headed into the Rave for the pre-fest portion of the fest. Having missed the local openers, our festivities officially began with a star-studded set from Jasta and Friends, which may as well be the metal equivalent of Ringo’s All Starr Band. The Hatebreed frontman/MMF svengali blazed through a set of original songs and classics, aided by Anthrax’s Scott Ian, Machine Head/Vio-Lence’s Phil Demmel, and Nuclear Assault/Brutal Truth/S.O.D.’s Dan Lilker. The highlight for this here teenage thrasher at heart? A trio of Nuclear Assault bangers (“Critical Mass”, “Hang the Pope”, “New Song”) that got the pit spiraling out of control. It was off to the races!

Flotsam and Jetsam

In between songs, Jasta bantered on about how this pre-fest was “Thrasher Thursday”, or something of the like. Who better to close out an event of this moniker than one of the OGs of thrash themselves? As one of the most revered cult acts of their era, Flotsam and Jetsam could’ve rounded out the evening with an old school display of power thrashing force. Instead, we were subjected to an hour long set that leaned far too heavily on their latter day output, only seldom touching upon the classics. Now I’ll the first to tell you that F&J’s past decade or so has been nothing to sneeze at. However, in a live setting, given the choice between any song off Doomsday for the Deceiver and No Place for Disgrace or anything released this century, I’m choosing the former everyday. Unfortunately, songs from these aforementioned albums made up only a fourth of the set: Three Disgrace cuts and one (ONE!!!) Doomsday cut to be exact. Are you kidding me?! Admittedly, F&J sounded strong as ever musically, but without those classics in tow, failed to connect with the audience, who were now eager to hit the hay and prepare, both mentally and physically, for a weekend of nonstop metal mania.

DAY 1 – FRIDAY, MAY 16

Legions of Doom

The first day of MMF proper began with one of a few supergroups we’d be treated to over the course of the day, Legions of Doom. Formed out of the ashes of The Skull, the band, featuring past and present members of Trouble, Corrosion of Conformity, and Saint Vitus (although vocalist Scott Reagers was nowhere to be found for this set), brought the Eagles Ballroom to their feet (figuratively speaking, that is, as we were all standing already) with an electrifying rendition of COC’s “Dance of the Dead”. I still remember the first time I heard that song, 15 years ago via Music Choice’s Retro Rock channel, and the way it made me feel as a juvenile headbanger. Being damn near against the barrier as Legions ripped on this classic note for note had me smiling like bandit in a bank vault. Equally as kickass were the new tunes touched upon, as well as a grand finale of Trouble’s “Psychotic Reaction” (“Hell in disguise!”).

Fugitive

If Legions of Doom are the spiritual successors to The Skull, then Fugitive functions in the same vein for beloved ’10s thrashers Power Trip. Spearheaded by founding PT guitarist Blake Ibanez, and accompanied by a slew of heavy hitters of the Texan metal and hardcore scene, Fugitive can best be described as Power Trip with a death metal twist. Their music boasts all the crossover attitude of Nightmare Logic, but with a brutality reminiscent of Obituary and Entombed amidst the riffing and vocal delivery. Crossover death/thrash, perhaps? Although the band didn’t play a single Power Trip song, the energy was there from start to finish: Teenaged maniacs thrashing about with the same intensity that my friends and I were to Fugitive’s predecessor a decade earlier.

Pentagram

Of all the unexpected things that have happened this year (and really this decade) thus far, Bobby “The Ghoul” Liebling of proto-doom monsters Pentagram becoming an internet-breaking meme was perhaps least expected. And yet here we were, myself and roughly 1,000 other devotees, eager to be subjected to the ancient metal sorcery of Pentagram. We weren’t disappointed. Liebling and this current incarnation of the band truly come alive onstage, fusing the sleaze of the ’70s, black magic of the ’80s, and hemp-scented grooves of the ’90s into one big celebration of doom metal domination. In an era where metal fests pepper their lineups with new bands aping the heavy ’70s sound, few can boast having a band amongst their ranks that actually hailed from the era. I give props to Jasta for pulling this one off, as if it weren’t for acid-laden rockers like “Forever My Queen” and “Starlady”, 99% of the 2025 MMF lineup would’ve never existed, whether they consciously know it or not. Perhaps we can see more ’70s metal on subsequent MMF bills? Bang? Cactus? Pat Travers Band? A man can dream!

No/Más

In the words of Monty Python, “And now for something completely different!” Any chill vibes or pot smoke that was lingering in the air after Pentagram’s set were quickly extinguished by the deathgrind degenerates in No/Más on the Rave stage. Hailing from Washington D.C., a real hotbed of honesty, morality, and integrity thanks to those selfless souls on Capitol Hill (Is my sarcasm showing?), No/Más’ set took aim at all forms of authority, from ICE and the police, to the very political establishment that has infested their hometown. They specialize in less “songs” proper, and more start-stop outbursts of aggression at its purest, carrying on the ’90s tradition established by bands like Napalm Death and Brutal Truth. False grind, this is not!

S.O.D. – Stormbreeders of Death

Leading up to this year’s Milwaukee Metal Fest, the set that generated the most skepticism was the announcement of Stormbreeders of Death: An S.O.D. tribute featuring Scott Ian’s 13 year old son on drums in place of Charlie Benante, and Jasta himself in place of the infamous Billy Milano, alongside two original Stormtroopers, the elder Ian and Dan Lilker. Upon its announcement, the comment section was immediately barraged with numbskulls spewing such nonsense like “No Milano, no S.O.D.”, and similar sentiments. Now I have my own personal bone to pick with Milano, one that leaves me with little sympathy for his exclusion from this tribute, reunion, whatever the hell you wanna call it, but I’ll leave that out of this and examine this set from a musical point of view.

There is absolutely no way, whatsoever, that any of you can persuade me that Milano would’ve done a better job fronting this band in 2025. I say this, mind you, as somebody who is not the biggest fan of Jasta’s musical endeavors. But holy hell, S.O.D. absolutely destroyed, and those mosh riffs still go hard as fuck. “March of the S.O.D.”, “Speak English or Die”, “Milk”: Isn’t it funny that Scott Ian saved his best riffs for a side quest? In all seriousness, this set was everything I could’ve dreamed of and more. A raging circle pit, a sea of crowd surfers, flying projectiles…total “Fistbanger Mania”! Those still bitching about? “Kill Yourself”!

Wormrot

It’d been quite some time since I’ve listened to Wormrot, let alone seen them live. I’m guessing 6 or 7 years, roughly? It was definitely before the pandemic, but I digress. After catching them again from the humble quarters of the Rave’s bar stage, it sunk in quick why they’re one of the most revered grind acts of this century. Whereas most grind bands emphasize brutality and speed above all, Wormrot embolden their sound with flashes of old school crust and dare I even say ’90s emo. Put all these elements together, and you’ve got one show-stopper of a set, complete with an unrelenting pit and an average of one stage diver every 5 seconds. Despite nearing its 40th anniversary as a proper genre, grind is not for the faint of heart, and will continue to remain dangerous so long as bands like Wormrot are in charge.

Left to Die

Stormbreeders of Death weren’t the only tribute act on the docket for Friday. So was Left to Die: A Death tribute featuring two of the band’s classic members, Rick Rozz on guitars and Terry Butler on bass. Ironically, Death were amongst the 15 bands who made up the lineup of the inaugural MMF way back in 1987. Fast forward nearly 40 years on, and here were Rozz and Butler back at the scene of the crime, revisiting those very songs they played at MMF 1 to a rabid crowd of oldheads reliving their glory days and youngsters who weren’t even alive when Scream Bloody Gore dropped (I fall into the latter). The multi-generational horde headbanged, moshed, and shouted along to such classics as “Pull the Plug”, “Zombie Ritual”, and “Evil Dead” so loudly, that Chuck Schuldiner had to have heard the ruckus from heavy metal heaven!

Down

Leading up to this year’s edition, Jasta and company touted “new features”, such as a new HVAC system (which was definitely felt, thank God) and a much needed new sound system for the Eagles Ballroom. Now I noticed an uptick in sound quality while watching Legions of Doom and S.O.D., but this really didn’t sink in until Down took the stage for a rare set. The Phil Anselmo fronted supergroup took the stage a little after 10, and sounded absolutely crushing. The riffs lumbered about with bone-crushing intensity, the rhythm section rattled my ribcage, and Anselmo’s vocals lingered above all else, toeing the balance between melody and grit.

Having seen Anselmo front his solo band, Superjoint Ritual, and Pantera leading up to this moment, I must say that this past Friday’s Down set is the best I’ve ever heard him in a live environment. That’s not to say I’ve ever caught a bad set from this infamous icon, but man, something hit differently this night. Perhaps it was all the secondhand smoke? Of course, I can’t give all the credit to Anselmo alone. Guitarists Pepper Keenan (COC) and Kirk Windstein, drummer Jimmy Bower (Eyehategod), and bassist Patrick Brudders (Saint Vitus) replicated those classics off NOLA (1995) and Down II: A Bustle in Your Hedgerow… (2002) with freakish accuracy, that had all of us totally tripping out, man! As the closing riffs to “Bury Me in Smoke” reverberated through the auditorium, it served as a fitting finish to a kickass day 1.

DAY 2 – SATURDAY, MAY 17

Wraith

As Saturday afternoon reared its ugly head, I put on my, my, my, my, my thrashing shoes and headed to the Rave bar for an all too brief set from the homeboys in Wraith. How brief, you’re wondering? 20 minutes to be exact! Thankfully, that’s about all the time Wraith needed to turn the tiniest MMF stage into a complete warzone, packed to the brim and filled with thrashers, headbangers, and stage divers galore. As someone who’s grateful enough to call myself not just a fan of this band, but a friend, I couldn’t have been happier to see the hero’s welcome they received so early on. Every hour is “Devil’s Hour” when Wraith’s in town!

Macabre

Wraith weren’t the only local locos who took the stage at MMF on Saturday. So did murder metal miscreants Macabre. Would it really be an MMF without them? I don’t think so. Admittedly, the first 5-10 minutes of their set time was plagued by technical setbacks (Corporate Death’s signature earpiece mic was nowhere to be found), but that didn’t stop them from massacring the MMF crowd with tales of real life monsters ranging from Ted Bundy to Milwaukee’s very own Jeffrey Dahmer (Fun fact: The Ambassador Hotel, where Dahmer claimed his first victim, is right across the street from the Eagles Ballroom). Again, their set was short, but their fusion of chilling theatricality with first generation death metal rage managed to connect.

Snafu

Snafu’s arc has been a wild one, to say the least. I first caught these Michigan based crust-thrashers at an old Windy City DIY haunt roughly a decade ago, the Fallout. I wouldn’t see them again until 2023, when they were opening for Pantera at *insert corporate name here* Amphitheatre to a crowd of well over 10k. Granted, I guess that’s one of the perks to being singed to Phil Anselmo’s Housecore Records, but I digress. Seeing Snafu in the Rave bar took me back to my youth, and definitely moved the dedicated few who were present. Unfortunately, compared to Wraith’s set, the room was deadsville, which is too bad considering how hard this band rips.

Oppressor

Confession time: Despite being “local legends”, “hometown heroes”, and all that jazz, Oppressor is a band I’ve never thoroughly listened to. I know. Sue me. I’m well aware of their story: Local guys start death metal band. Death metal falls out of vogue. Band splits. Said guys then form platinum selling nu metal band (SOiL). Nu metal falls out of vogue. Fests come calling with offers for old band to reform and next thing you know, “We’re back!” Upon my first serious listen of Oppressor, I dug them for what they were: Techy mid ’90s brutal death that lie somewhere between Gorguts and Suffocation. Perhaps further listens of their back catalog will lead to an even deeper appreciation.

Demolition Hammer

The more Demolition Hammer continues to play out live, the more I begin to believe this band was cryogenically frozen for the 20ish years they ceased to exist, because they play with a level of brutality that puts 99.9% of the youngsters to shame, let alone the old guard. Like many of the acts on this year’s bill, Demo Hammer are MMF alumni, having last played in 1995, and in 1991 before that. When they took the stage and opened “Skull Fracturing Nightmare”, it was as if no time had passed in those three decades at all. As an added bonus, amidst the Tortured Existence and Skull Fracturing Nightmare classics was a brand new song entitled “Execution Style” and, surprise, it sounds EXACTLY like any given song of those two aforementioned albums. When we’ll get this new Demo Hammer album remains a mystery, but if it sounds anything like the new cut I heard this past weekend, it can’t come soon enough!

3 Inches of Blood

I know it was on at least one album review, and via multiple Facebook comments, that I’ve echoed the sentiment of the ongoing 3 Inches of Blood reunion being the first example of NWOTHM nostalgia. Ridiculous as this sounds on paper (or rather computer screen), this is exactly what ensued once the celebrated ’00s/early ’10s powerhouse took the Rave stage. The band blazed through a set that took millennials back to their acne-faced, beer-chugging youth, and this here “too young to be a millennial, too old to be gen Z” guy back to the days of trying to 100% FC “Deadly Sinners” on Rock Band. Simpler times indeed! Also, holy smokes, Cam Pipes still lives up to his name, unleashing one head-exploding scream after the next with ease. What’s your secret, dude?! Inquiring minds want to know!

Death Angel

As an outsider looking in, the ongoing Death Angel situation seems rather, uh, messy. I’m just glad they were able to hold it together for this here exclusive appearance, which was announced so long ago that many forget it was as Destruction’s replacement. Destruction, mind you, who has flaked on MMF TWICE now. What’s the deal with that, Schmier?! Anyways, Death Angel filled the old school thrash void perfectly, walloping us with some tried and true ultra-violence. The highlight of the set for yours truly was hearing my all time favorite, “Mistress of Pain”, which I’ve never heard these Bay Area thrash titans dust off until now. Perhaps they knew I was in attendance? Thanks guys, and seriously, try not to kill each other!

Devin Townsend

Oh my prog. Was I really about to catch Devin Townsend live for the first time in 12 years? Yes, I was, and little did I know he’d throw in not one, but TWO Strapping Young Lad songs. You read that correctly. Sorry prog geeks, but when that opening riff to “Love?” kicked in, none of you stood a chance. I’ve only waited my entire life to mosh to that song, and if that’s the only opportunity I’ll ever have, then man, I made the most of it. See, after a long break from the road, it took maybe a handful of dates for the enigmatic Townsend to decide, “Nah, I’m done with touring again.” If and when Townsend comes back, I’ll be first in line to buy tickets. And if that day never comes, I’ll be grateful to have witnessed a metal master go out on top.

Exodus

So this is the part of the review where you’re probably expecting me, a child of the ’00s/’10s, to gush over the return of Rob Dukes to the Exodus fold after the VERY unceremonious third (and this time final…for now) departure of Steve “Zetro” Souza. Well folks, you’ve expected incorrectly. Despite discovering Exodus while Dukes was initially in the band, I was never a fan of his vocal style, or the albums he sang on for that matter. Granted, the latter was less his fault and more due to a lack of compelling songwriting from Gary Holt, something that remains a problem to this day, but I digress. All things considered, I went into this Exodus: Dukes Deux set with an open mind and open ears, and here’s what I gathered.

Dukes sounded fine. Will I take Zetro every single day? Of course, but all things considered, Dukes handled the set well, particularly the Tempo of the Damned era songs. The band sounded fine as well, not sounding any more or less invigorated than when I last saw them with Zetro roughly 6 months earlier. My only real axe to grind was in regards to the setlist. You seriously mean to tell me it’s 40 years of Bonded by Blood, and your idea of celebrating such an occasion is with three measly songs off said album? Granted, at this point, Holt is a businessman first, and a guitarist second. He ain’t doing anything for free, and chances are a BBB set would’ve come at a premium rate. At least that’s what I assume. Would I break my neck to catch the Dukes fronted Exodus live again? No. Would I catch ’em if it was a weekend with virtually nothing else to do and tickets were free? Sure…assuming this review doesn’t push my name up a few notches on their “Blacklist”.

DAY 3 – SUNDAY, MAY 18

Maul

It’s Sunday, and the day 3 blues are really starting to kick in. So much so that…holy shit, did I seriously get duped into watching a full ass deathcore set? Now I just know one of you nerds are going to comment some cringeworthy shit like, “It’s not deathcore. It’s death metal/hardcore.” Oh, you mean deathcore for hipsters? I’m sorry, would you like an IPA with your avocado toast? Truth be told, Maul didn’t even “suck” per se, especially for the niche of bands they fall into. They certainly got the crowd fired up, as the karate kids were out in full force, swinging their arms, legs, and other assorted limbs to one breakdown after the next. They just didn’t relate with me, and continued to leave me disillusioned with the ongoing hardcore-ification of death metal.

Exhorder

As I ran my way upstairs to the Eagles Ballroom to catch Exhorder’s set, it felt less like just another festival slot and more like a refuge, a safe heaven for true-heads, if you will. Classic death/thrash riffs? Headbanger mania? A good ol’ fashioned circle pit? THIS is more like it! Similar to Wraith the day before, Exhorder’s set seemed finished before it even began, but not without nods to their one-two punch of Slaughter in the Vatican (1990) and The Law (1992). While I know they have new music to push (which was also showcased in this here set), it would sure be cool to see them do an “evening with” show in the future and play both albums in full.

Morbid Saint

After the sudden departure of Sacred Reich from MMF ’25’s lineup on just a few weeks notice, Dairy State legends Morbid Saint came thrashing to the rescue, this time tearing up the main stage. When we last saw them in 2023, they desecrated the Rave bar, but with the history under their belt (Need I remind you this IS the band who dropped Spectrum of Death?), they had no problem getting the gargantuan Eagles Ballroom raging it up to such classics like “Damien” and “Assassin”. Frontman Pat Lind especially drove the set home, unleashing those throaty growls and rasps with an ageless delivery that leaves kiddo extreme metal vocalists shaking in their boots.

Toxic Holocaust

Having just caught Toxic Holocaust two weeks earlier as part of this year’s edition of Legions of Metal, I wondered how their MMF set would compare. Let me put it this way: As fulfilling as the Legions set was, it felt like a glorified rehearsal compared to what ensued at MMF. In the span of roughly 30 minutes, Toxic Holocaust took the crown for most insane set of the weekend, and nobody else (not even Wormrot) came close. Yet again, “Bitch” opened the set. Only this time, every audience member was functioning at an energy level of 666. The line between band and audience blurred, with the front row resembling that of a dogpile for the better part of the set, thanks to a bevy of unholy divers (“Look out!”). As for the pit, it spun rapidly and unrelenting from start to finish, with little regard for anyone who stood in the way. If Legions felt like a “nostalgia set”, this felt like a time warp back to the early ’10s entirely, with Joel Grind helming the DeLorean.

Deceased

Those left standing after Toxic Holocaust were eager and willing to up the tombstones with one of America’s longest running death metal institutions, Deceased. By this point in the day, the attendees weren’t the only ones starting to feel the fatigue. So were the instruments themselves, as the backline drumkit for the Rave bar damn near self-destructed (no joke) thanks to the raw power of Amos Rifkin during the opening “Children of the Morgue”. Thankfully, the band managed to recover from this Spinal Tap-esque gaffe and run through the song again, amongst a slew of other Deceased classics. “Haunted Cerebellum”, “Fading Survival”, “Fearless Undead Machines”: The list goes on. Few can light ’em up like King Fowley and the gang!

Trouble

Alright, have I grown delirious, or is that Kyle Thomas gracing the main stage again? No, indeed that is Mr. Thomas, this time fronting doom metal gods, Trouble. As hard as it is for me to wrap my head around those hymns being sung by anyone other than the late great Eric Wagner, Thomas did a phenomenal job tackling the likes of “Assassin”, “The Tempter”, “The Wolf”, and “At the End of My Daze”. Also, can we talk about what a dynamite duo Rick Wartell and Bruce Franklin are? If you called ’em the Denner and Shermann of the Midwest, you wouldn’t even be wrong. A no frills greatest hits set was just the fuel I needed to power through the last hours of the fest.

Scour

Kyle Thomas wasn’t the only frontman working double duty this year. So was Mr. Philip H. Anselmo, who returned to the stage on Sunday, this time as the frontman for black metal supergroup, Scour. While I wasn’t completely sold on their last album, I’m convinced that their powers really come together on the live stage. I’m not even the biggest second wave black metal guy, but even I couldn’t deny the chemistry and cohesion showcased by Anselmo and these assorted members of Pig Destroyer and Misery Index. A dear friend of mine (who’s as goth as she is a metalhead) was particularly pleased by a black metal rendition of Echo & the Bunnymen’s “Killing Moon”, and truthfully, so was I.

GWAR

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, metalheads and punks of all ages, it all came down to this. When no mortal being left on the bill could appease the remaining masses, Jamey Jasta called upon the stars and summoned the galaxy’s most notorious band of scumdog barbarians to unleash utter devastation, GWAR. Or should I say, GWARRRRRRRR!!! Yes, 40 years since they touched down upon “This Toilet Earth”, the legendary horde closed out this year’s proceedings with the bloodiest, guttiest, and messiest (even more so than Death Angel *ba dum tss*) spectacle our planet has ever known.

Amongst the special guests who met their demise were Vladimir Putin, Taylor Swift, and even #45-47 himself, President Donald Trump. In the old days, you weren’t a president if you weren’t roasted by Bob Hope. Since 1985, you aren’t a president if you haven’t been killed by GWAR, so relax MAGA folk. This is standard practice. Hell, even I nearly met my fate thanks to these intergalactic assassins this past Sunday, but more on that tomorrow. Until then, just know that GWAR left no corner of the Eagles Ballroom untouched, so be sure to where protection next time you step foot in there.

Afterword

Much to Jasta and the MMF camp’s credit, the issues I had with last year’s edition were nearly nonexistent this year. Each stage had a full backline setup, which eliminated 2024’s recurring theme of bands running behind schedule. While the Eagles Ballroom is far from the most sonically desirable room in the world, the upgraded sound system worked wonders. I’d argue the Rave was more acoustically challenged this year, and that room was actually built for concerts! Perhaps the Eagles Ballroom/Rave camp can dig into the coffers and get a new rig for that room next? Regardless, I found myself very pleased with this year’s edition of MMF, and look forward to seeing what next year’s edition has in store, this time set for June so not to clash with Maryland Deathfest, which is occurring as we speak. Cheers Jamey, and thanks for having us out! We’ll see you in 2026!