Photo Credit: Kevin O’Sullivan
Victorious 2025. Who could have known that, as they walked over the otherwise wholesome festival grounds — the air laced with the lingering scent of sea-salt, skin slowly baking under the beaming glare of an unrepentantly baleful English sun — that things would be thrown into chaos so quickly? That one of the biggest and most beloved festivals of the UK calendar would end up so contentious?
Still, that’s getting ahead of ourselves.
Friday
After the supposedly coedine-fuelled, anti-Napoleonic, patriotic-weed smoking rantings and ramblings of Irish comedian Andrew Maxwell, it was time for Joel Dommett. Coming on stage a little aghast at the sheer scope of his temporary arena — “I’m playing a bigger stage than Daniel Bedingfield, what’s going on!” he half-joked at one point — the Masked Singer host happily regaled the crowd arrayed in front of him with stories from (and unaired jokes made for) the ITV favourite, including some behind the scenes gossip regarding the infamous Macy Grey departure. And, despite finishing a fair bit earlier than billed on the schedule, he even managed to live out his own musical dreams as he played a voice memo of an old rap he’d performed a decade or so ago. Light-hearted fun, as the smatterings of laughs and smiles in the crowd could attest, but arguably the wrong stage for comedy (as opposed to the for-purpose tent of years prior). 7/10
With the scent of sea salt hanging in the air, it was time for the raw indie rock of Mancunian band M60. With the band’s addictively anthemic tunes sparkling like jagged pearls, unpolished but undeniably magnetic, the whole festival felt magnified, as if it was the most important set of the weekend. Koolaid, a cult-leader anthem, snarled with menace, while Darling flirted with stadium swagger via a cheeky nod to upcoming headliners Kings Of Leon’s Use Somebody. The closer of I Don’t Mind, meanwhile — “the one the casuals might know” — helped cement the set as a moment of greatness, a smooth voyage effortlessly coming into land. “We’re M60 and we’re here to tear the roof off the Seaside Stage,” declared Matthew Morton, part way into the group’s set — and somehow, despite the stage playing to open air, they accomplished it and then some. 9/10
And then came The Mary Wallopers, and what should’ve been a riotous folk-punk party instead became a protest — and one of the most significant moments of the weekend. One song in, The Mary Wallopers had their set cut for displaying a Palestinian flag, prompting chants, boos, and outrage from the crowd towards the festival as the band stood defiant, refusing to sacrifice their ideals. “No flags”, apparently, despite the flags around the festival grounds. You have to wonder whether its instead related to KKR, the parent company of Superstruct (the entertainment company that owns Victorious Festival), and the claims that it is deeply invested in the global arms industry, including Israeli defence contractors and technology firms operating in the occupied West Bank… though the fact that the hour of dead air on the main stage led to the controversy being picked up by most major news sites in the UK, and therefore (re-)broadcasting the message of “Free Palestine” to a much wider audience than one stage at Victorious, was perhaps a mistake on their part. 10/10
Wunderhorse shouldn’t be playing in the sun. Frontman Jacob Slater’s anguished falsetto on Butterfly begged for shadows, for lights slicing through darkness, not daylight and dust. Still, Midas opened with snarl and fire, the grungey bite of his voice echoing with Curbain-like intensity. Leader Of The Pack hit hardest, its extended intro a slow build into chaos, guitar squeals tearing up the air as fans clambered on shoulders and phones rose to the skies. Slater doesn’t just sing — he wrenches sound from his chest like it’s hurting him, leaving you pinned like a lepidopterist’s latest find at the sheer force of emotions pouring forth. No wonder the band have blown up so much. 8.5/10
Meanwhile, the bizarre brilliance of art-rock alchemists Everything Everything was just getting started. With their Get To Heaven anniversary tour looming, the Mancunian quartet spun through a gloriously chaotic set that felt like a digital fever dream — part rave, part existential meltdown. Jennifer and Enter The Mirror were dense, dazzling whirlwinds, while trying to sing along to Cold Reactor or Violent Sun felt like a high-stakes game of lyrical Twister. By the time Distant Past and No Reptiles crashed in, the crowd was breathless — not just from dancing, but from awe. It’s nonsense. It’s genius. It’s everything — well, it’s Everything Everything. 9/10
There’s something hypnotic about She’s In Parties. As Katie Dillon’s mop of curly red hair bounced around the stage, under the dazzling gleam of a disco ball hanging overhead, you’re immediately taken in by the visual aspect; add in both the band’s electro-tinged, ‘90s-esque rock instrumentals, and Dillon‘s at-times haunting, wistful, excited and jubilant vocals, and you’ve got yourself a strange, catchy, four-piece creature that strives to define description. 8/10
With desert swagger and wine in hand, Queens of the Stone Age brought a searing heat to Portsmouth’s Common Stage, turning coastal breeze into dry, electric tension. Opening with the feral energy of You Think I Ain’t Worth A Dollar…, the band fired through No One Knows and Burn the Witch like war chants in quick succession; My God Is The Sun, Paper Machete and Smooth Sailing all flew by, the crowd in throes of ecstasy as they sang along. Homme oozed untouchable cool — dangling the mic, murmuring poetry (“It’s easy to fall in love”, he sighed, introducing I Sat by the Ocean, “but it’s harder to figure out where to land”), before sinking into piano for The Vampyre of Time and Memory. The set ebbed and surged — green-lit menace in Misfit Love, or the ever fiery Little Sister, gave way to crowd euphoria in Make It Wit Chu, Homme passing a lit cigarette to Shuman mid-solo like a ritual, before surging straight back into chaos as Sick Sick Sick strobe-burned the crowd’s retinas.
It was the ever-closing A Song for the Dead, though, that heralded the end; but, just as the miasma of firework smoke and mosh pit dust hovered in the air long after Josh Homme and company left the stage, the memories of that set will stay imprinted on Portsmouth’s identity for long to come. 9/10
Saturday
Rizzle Kicks put the special in afternoon special guests. Erupting back onto the scene after over ten years away, they seemed almost surprised by the reaction that they continue to receive — but when your sets bring nothing but sunshine, sax, and unfiltered joy to anyone watching, what else do you expect?
Bounding across a stage blooming with flowerpots and brass, the duo turned nostalgia into a party, opening with Lost Generation and diving straight into the cheeky charm of When I Was a Youngster. Backed by a tight six-piece band — familiar faces from a decade ago — every beat felt like a homecoming. Put Your Two’s Up sent arms skyward, while Skip To The Good Bit nearly recruited security into the chaos. Their banter sparkled, political without preaching: “we are down with the Mary Wallopers and everything they stand for… free Palestine.” Mama Do The Hump brought a jig and roars of recognition, while Javelin teased their new album Competition is for Losers. By the time Down With The Trumpets dropped, the crowd was airborne — a celebration soaked in brass, sweat, and summer euphoria. 10/10
Mackenzie over on the Castle Stage was a rocky, riotous affair, lit up both by her overjoyed antics, grinning and twirling as light bars went wild overhead. With a smattering of ‘God Bless This Hot Mess/ Drama Queen’ tees throughout the crowd, the Road To Victorious winner was evidently a local favourite, on top of a live presence that’s only grown since playing Victorious the year before, with appearances at festivals such as Truck, Y Not and Tramlines across the Summer bolstering her now well-honed set. With a debut EP out later this month, and a London headline show on its way, the sky’s the limit… though this isn’t the last Victorious got to see of Mackenzie over the weekend. 7/10
With a backdrop of Trump and Putin mid-smooch looming over the stage, Kid Kapichi made their stance clear from the get go — a political uprising given punk-rock form. An opening salvo of Artillery started the pits off right, as the incendiary Let’s Get To Work and Rob The Supermarkets hit like trucks, boiling with rage; Can EU Hear Me? crackled with the usual sardonic spite, while New England’s solemn “Free Palestine” dedication helped delineate where the band stood in regards to The Mary Wallopers the day before. The final duo of Get Down and Smash The Gaff, the latter detonating in a whirlpool of limbs and grins, only cemented the band as a new Portsmouth favourite. 9/10
With all the shifts in line-up — namely, The Last Dinner Party pulling out in solidarity with The Mary Wallopers, along with Cliffords over on the Under The Trees stage, The Academic on the Castle Stage, and both Getdown Services and Esme Esmerson on the Sunday— it turned out that there was a last minute addition taking Shed Seven’s time slot. Local boy Marley Blandford, equipped with just an acoustic guitar, had the unenviable task of playing to a crowd all geared up for the York legends — but he filled his role admirably, a medley of original songs and covers, from A Shooting Star Ain’t A Sign Of Love or Sam Smith’s I’m Not the Only One to the ever crowd-pleasing Bohemian Rhapsody, providing a fantastic mid-afternoon surprise. 8/10
Who doesn’t like Circa Waves. You might know what you’re getting with the indie stalwarts, but it doesn’t have to be unpredictable to be a stupidly fun time. From openers Do You Wanna Talk? and Movies, the latter seeing crowd embodying the sea in the waves of swaying hands, or new single Cherry Bomb, to the classics of the incendiary Fire That Burns, the catchy Fossils or the beloved favourite of T-Shirt Weather, watching the Liverpool quartet is just a guaranteed good time. 8/10
Sound gremlins nearly derailed Shed Seven’s start, lurching between eardrum-rattling and ghostly silence, but when balance returned, so did the inimitable swagger. Let’s Go and Speakeasy were flung at the crowd with a mix of ‘90s charm and ‘20s polish: “Anyone remember the ‘90s?” frontman Rick Witter asked, mid-flail. “We fucking don’t.” Yet age barely mattered — the crowd, splayed across the festival grounds, happily roared back every lyric, from Bully Boy or Going For Gold to a cover of Mark James’s Suspicious Minds. The band seemed to be in just as good spirits, despite the chiropractor’s dream of Rick Witter’s unstoppable neck contortions, as the eight on stage — sax, trumpet, and trombone in tow — gave it their all. Though, with the amount of them, it almost felt like a friendly face-off with Rizzle Kicks for who could cram the most in!
Talk Of The Town and Let’s Go Dancing rang out true, before a cover of There Is A Light That Never Goes Out and fan favourite Chasing Rainbows twinkled between reverent and rowdy. Equal parts nostalgia and novelty — chaotic, charming, and wholly Shed Seven. 9/10
Sunday
From Showcase stage teen to main stage opener, Harvey Jay Dodgson’s rise in Victorious folklore in motion. “I started coming here at 14,” the Portsmouth local told the swelling crowd, his voice cracking with disbelief and pride. With a new EP, a fresh documentary, and a nearly sold-out Wedgewood Rooms date announced mid-set, Dodgson’s momentum is undeniable. Kids On The Firing Line, Marilyn Rose, and Freedom smouldered with raw, dusky energy, while Caroline and Love Hurts showed his tender side without losing intensity. Tell Me saw him abandon the stage entirely, singing over the pit like a prophet before high-fiving his way through the crowd. By the time For The Love Of It closed things out, it felt like a coronation. A local lad made good — and not just good, but great. The future isn’t coming for Harvey Jay Dodgson. He’s already here. 9/10
Craig David didn’t just bring the Sunday energy — he was the Sunday energy. Blending effortless vocals, MC bars, and cheeky ad libs, the 44-year-old icon transformed the Common Stage into one massive block party. His set wasn’t so much performed as curated: a rolling mixtape of bangers from Who You Are and 7 Days to songs from the likes of TMC, House of Pain, and even Bastille, by way of their collaboration I Know You; each drop of music history, each fractal of Craig David’s own musical career met with louder screams than the last. The crowd sang every word — sometimes louder than Craig himself — as he flipped between eras with the ease of a man who’s been living the hits for two decades. Flip Da Script hit especially hard, bars flying out into the stunned silence. A summer set full of sweat, euphoria, and substance — Craig David proved once again: born to do it. 9/10
It might not be 2020 anymore, but from the surprisingly packed World Music Stage, you wouldn’t know it — sea shanty sensations The Wellermen are still riding the wave. Opening with Spanish Ladies and rolling straight into Drunken Sailor, the set unfolded like a musical voyage through ocean lore and working-class struggle. The likes of Old Maui, Sixteen Tons, and O Death drew reverent silence, the crowd seated and spellbound by the group’s harmonies, even as the genres turned on a dime; there was joy in the pronunciation-mangling of Fräulein, swagger in Santiana (shoutout Assassin’s Creed fans), and cinematic drama in Hoist the Colours. But it was the delicate, flute-led original Northern Sky that stole the show — not just musically, but emotionally, as the band’s obvious love for playing together beamed brighter than the sun. Well, other than the eponymous Wellermen, of course. Wild Mountain Thyme and The Leaving of Liverpool brought the finale, familiar and full-hearted. Phenomenal. 10/10
Whatever Zuton Fever is, Victorious had it in spades. After a few false starts on Why Won’t You Give Me Your Love?, The Zutons hit their stride, with the sultry stomp of Pressure Point and a cowbell-happy Creeping On The Dancefloor setting the stage alight. Abi Harding took the mic for a smouldering cover of Back to Black, her sax solo injecting urgency into a song already thick with heartbreak — Amy would’ve approved — while You Will You Won’t somehow managed to rival the magnificent Valerie for sheer crowd noise, with shoulder-riders bouncing on command and the entire festival in raucous, off-key harmony. With a final, fevered band boogie to a Zuton Fever reprise, instruments howling, turns out the disease is contagious. 10/10
If Victorious was on fire, it was probably The Reytons’ fault. With red smoke bombs blooming in the crowd and matching flame pillars erupting onstage, the South Yorkshire lads delivered a ferocious, no-holds-barred masterclass in modern indie chaos. Red Smoke came early — that explains the flares, then — while Guilt Trip launched blasts of steam that hammered the front row. Harrison Lesser and Retro Emporium had the energy of pub fights and Friday-night elation, with fists flying skyward and the crowd barely catching breath, while Adrenaline and Knees Up seemed a lesson in sadism, the band refusing to let the crowd gather their wits before sending the tempo through the metaphorical roof yet again. Choruses were screamed, flares were waved, and the crowd became part of the show. For a band so often labelled as “lad-rock,” The Reytons know how to turn a gig into a moment. 9/10
“Banger after banger after banger” — the Reverend wasn’t lying. Over on the Castle Stage, Reverend and the Makers led a riot of ska-tinged indie with swagger, sweat, and the odd confession. “I should’ve been a megastar… but I’ve been a bit of a bellend,” Jon McClure admitted, but there’s no denying he knows how to command a crowd. Bassline and Open Your Window lit the fuse, Heatwave in the Cold North fired the Rev-naissance into full swing, and Shine The Light sparked arms aloft. There were special guest fake-outs, clothe-swinging moves allegedly lifted from Dreadzone — though that’ll always be either Don Broco or Skindred’s moves for me — and a shout of “Sing like your life depends on it!” before Silence Is Talkingexploded into crowd-led chaos. The band bowed out to chants of the trumpet riff echoing across the sea breeze — the group didn’t just play a set, they made their mark. Fun, frantic, and full of fight. 9/10
Bloc Party didn’t just play — they blared, their instrumentals hitting like klaxons: urgent, oppressive, impossible to ignore. Kele Okereke’s falsetto yelps sliced through the haze, ravenously devoured by a crowd desperate for catharsis. Mercury pulsed like a warning; Song For Clay (Disappear Here) unravelled from acoustic softness into a frantic meltdown; each and every beat of Like Eating Glass and Banquet felt like gift clawed from the past and repackaged for now. The bass rumbled like thunder during The Love Within, while Helicopter lacerated the air with strobe-lit venom. And, as Ratchet rang out, only one band remained: the Leon Kings, apparently. 9/10
When Esme Emerson pulled out, Victorious risked a dreaded patch of silence yet again. Victorious was in luck, then, that Mackenzie was happy to return for a second set, this time beneath the spinning disco ball of the Under The Trees Stage — and it was anything but filler. If their afore mentioned Castle Stage set was a firework, this was a glowing ember: intimate, radiant, and quietly electric. Although there might not have been quite as many passionate fans in attendance — you can never bank on signal at a festival — the intimacy of the stage, the spinning mirror ball overhead, and both the feel good, soaring, pop-rock anthems and the contagious grin of the constantly bouncing Mackenzie felt unstoppable. The sweetness even made those moments of vitriol, the vindication of the unreleased Drama Queen or the anguished venom of That Much Better… well, that much better. 9/10
And finally, under a canopy of Texan flags and golden haze, came Caleb, Jared, Nathan and Matthew themselves — The Leon Kings Kings of Leon had arrived. The Followill family wasted no time in diving into the set, Caleb’s charismatic drawl and Matthew’s rocky riffs leading Supersoaker to kick like a shot of bourbon, while The Bucket and On Call followed, each track soaked in that unmistakable Southern warmth. Revelry caressed the crowd in a cocoon of warmth, while Manhattan and Radioactive washed over the crowd like a heatwave. Caleb Followill’s voice — rich, cracked, and familiar — wrapped around every line like a promise. But when Use Somebody hit, it all changed: phones and fans lifted skyward, the crowd seemingly doubling in height.
Newer fan favourites — Mustang, Nowhere to Run, or 2016’s Find Me — went hand in hand with the classics, although the absence of 2021’s When You See Yourself felt perplexing, but, surprising no one, it was the explosions of Pyro and the simmering Sex On Fire that inevitably made the set. There’s a reason the band have been going so long, constantly commanding such huge crowd of their fervent fans, and Victorious finally got to see what it was: bucketloads of swaggering talent. 9/10
Written By: James O’Sullivan
Photo Gallery features Joel Dommett, M60, The Mary Wallopers, Wunderhorse, Everything Everything, She Does Parties, Rizzle Kicks, Mackenzie, Kid Kapichi, Marley Blandford, Circa Waves, Shed Seven, Harvey Jay Dodgson, Craig David, The Wellermen, The Zutons, Reverend And The Makers, Mackenzie and Gabrielle.
