Day 1, August 23rd.

First things first; Stonedead 2024, when all is considered, you were absolutely bloody magnificent!

Before you all start, just let me quantify that opening line for you, remember that this is ‘my’ take on it, it’s as I saw it, and that was through sober eyes. Granted I had a couple of cans on the Friday evening, but no more than that, even if I’d have wanted to, I didn’t have the time to.

So, the story begins, with the seeds of Stonedead 2024 being sown at Stonedead 2023. There I had the pleasure of accompanying someone (whom I expect is known to you all), the much respected and revered Metalhead, and my friend, the one and only, the walking, talking, swearing drinking, legend, the one known to the metal world as Krusher. I went along with the aim of producing some quality images for him, and to catalogue his Stonedead 2023 journey, from comparing the stage, and all that entails, to signing autographs (on various articles, and various body parts, and from what I witnessed Your Honour, they were all female bodies!). These autographs were for his legions of adoring fans who queued endlessly, and who along with chatting with him forced him to drink a few JD’s with them in celebration, mainly of him granted, and all whilst he was trying not to partake. Anyway, enough of sowing seeds and why, and more of reaping the 2024 harvest.

As some of you may already know, the Stonedead Festival is held on the Newark Showground, near, as the name would suggest, Newark-on-Trent, Nottinghamshire. Taking into account ‘Lockdown’ where like most, it had a year out Stonedead has been running continually since 2018 (it was initially called Stonedeaf for the first year), and it has continued improving in leaps and bounds ever since. Getting to Newark from deepest darkest Herefordshire was a complete mare. The previous day the remnants of Hurricane (Storm) Twat had decided to make its way across the whole of the UK, this influenced my decision not to travel on the Thursday, a decision that I instantly regretted on the Friday! Hindsight being a wonderful thing  would suggest that I should have taken my chances with the great British weather rather than the great unwashed, all of whom appeared to be on the move (when traffic allowed) on the Friday. What Google Maps suggested would be a 2hr 40min journey was a ten minutes short of 5 hours, oh the joys. The main access route towards the showground is the A46, a wonderful place to spend some time at a standstill, on a Friday afternoon should you find yourself without a purpose in life?

The festival does sell out very quickly; there is a maximum 5000 capacity limited in place, that I think is through the organisers choice, rather than through regulation. This helps keep the festival ‘within limits’, and therefore manageable; the festival is most definitely not all about ‘the money’, which is a very refreshing attitude to see, I do have to admit. Let’s say less scrupulous individuals would simply pack it to the gunnels, take the cash, and not give a toss about those attending. That is not the Stonedead ethos.

Once in through the ‘outer gates’ I park up and go to into the Stonedead HQ Building where my ‘Media’ accreditation paperwork is checked, and the relevant passes are issued, without any drama, at other festivals this can sometimes be a complete drama, and as proved here, it doesn’t need to be. From there I seek out where I can park up, and then set about ‘getting it all in a pile’ ready for the Friday Night Party. The Friday Night Party is basically a warmer into the bank to provide entertainment and to get you ready for the festival on the Saturday. This year the entertainment is provided by The Scarlet Rebels, Paul Di’Anno, and The Quireboys.

The carnage caused by aforementioned Hurricane (Storm) Twat was evident in the form of the stage, the centrepiece of the festival (understandably) having had its side panels removed, rendering it a now strange looking beast indeed. The removal of the sides was probably a wise decision as the storm had trashed a lot of the Leeds Festival further north on its way across the country.

Earlier in the day the organisers, ably assisted by the heartbeat of the festival, the volunteers, had the unenviable task of reassembling the site after the winds had subsided somewhat. A fine job by all involved meant the festival could run, as advertised, and on time, with the Scarlet Rebels getting it underway right on the nail. The mood within the arena was buoyant, expectations were high, and from the outset the Rebels didn’t disappoint. The fact that the band’s new album, ‘Where The Colours Meet’ had just entered the charts at number 15 probably had something to do with that. Opening the show is never the easiest job, the fact that the Scarlet Rebels did so admirably is certainly to their credit.

Up next is the former Iron Maiden frontman, a certain Mr. Paul Di’Anno. Paul fronted Maiden at the very start of the IM journey, from 79 through to 81, providing vocals on their first two albums.

‘Mr Metal’ Paul’s self-professed Punk Rock Rebel attitude set the scene for his slot, and the assembled masses were, I sense, not disappointed in the slightest. Being confined to a wheelchair (due to ongoing long term health issues) did not stop Paul delivering an absolutely cracking set. A purist would perhaps say that the pinnacle of his vocal delivery is now behind him, I would perhaps agree, but Paul still has ‘it’, he can certainly hold his own, and that was displayed (in buckets) for all present to see.

The headline act for the night are The Quireboys, fronted by the inimitable Spike. I’ve never seen The Quireboys live, I’ve listened to their music, I’ve seen the videos, I’ve heard countless stories of how good they are, I’ve been told of their antics on stage, and of how much I’d like them live, haven’t I Vicky! If you’re now reading this and thinking ‘who the hell is Spike’, all I will say is once seen, never forgotten, Spike is unique, he IS the heart of The Quireboys. We are blessed with a mixture of new offerings and more well known tracks, and ably supported by the rest of the band, all of whom are a mixture of talented individuals from other bands, the mic stand twirling, harmonica blowing Spike is on relentless form right from the off, nothing is held back. This relentlessness continues throughout the set.

The end of the set indicates that it’s time to get back to the van, to download and save the images from the evening, write up my notes, and to get batteries charged ready for the main event tomorrow. It’s also time to do my research on the bands that I’m not familiar with, looking at possible ‘targets’, all the ‘normal’ stuff before climbing into the van to get some sleep, with Classic FM playing in the background, just for a while.

Words and Images by: Taff Wiltshire / FRAME Music

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