Photo Credit: Brittany Bowman
There’s loud, there’s Glasgow rock show loud, and then there’s Volbeat-at-the-Hydro loud. A glorious, swaggering metal event that feels like being punched in the chest by a rock ’n’ roll freight train made entirely of riffs and gags. Thirteen live shows deep for us with these Danish legends, over fifteen years and somehow, they’re still getting better.
Before Volbeat took the stage, the night was kicked into gear by Bush, who delivered a support set that was short, sharp and far more powerful than the support band label ever suggests. Launching straight into Everything Zen, Gavin Rossdale and company wasted no time reminding the crowd exactly why Bush were such a dominant force throughout the ’90s. The guitars snarled, the drums cracked, and Rossdale was in hyper enegertic mode with a voice that is still … elite and who sounds like he means every word he sings.
The highlight came during Flowers on a Grave. Rossdale suddenly leapt off the stage and disappeared into the sea of bodies, weaving his way through the crowd, high-fiving and hugging fans as he belted out the track without missing a beat. By the time he reached the back of the arena and climbed onto a seat, holding court above the entire venue, the place was absolutely electric.
Later, he urged everyone to turn on their phone torches for a haunting, almost fragile rendition of Swallowed, bathing the arena in pale light. It was beautiful, atmospheric, and honestly a little spine-tingling.
Their set was brilliant—too brilliant, really, because it felt far too short. As someone who had Sixteen Stone permanently lodged in our CD player back in the ’90s, We couldn’t help pining for more. No Glycerine, no Comedown, no Machinehead—tracks that would have blown the roof off. But if anything, that only confirmed what we already knew: we need to see Bush on their next headline run. They were fantastic.
From the second The Devil’s Bleeding Crown kicked off, the Hydro was Volbeat’s. Michael Poulsen, part Elvis, part metal preacher, had that trademark glint in his eye — half mischief, half menace — and the Glasgow crowd was in the palm of his tattooed hand. Lola Montez arrived early and turned the place into a full-blown singalong festival. The crowd sang so loud Poulsen stopped mid-song, grinning like a proud dad at a school recital, and started a call-and-response vocal duel with the audience like it was the national anthem of outlaw joy.
Then came Sad Man’s Tongue, Poulsen’s cheeky Johnny Cash moment. “We didn’t take inspiration from Johnny for this,” he smirked. “We just stole it off him. I’m a good, honest thief.” The place erupted — laughter, cheers, beer in the air. It’s that mix of humour and humility that makes Volbeat gigs feel like you’re part of the gang, not just watching from the cheap seats.
When Fallen came, Poulsen’s tone shifted — a heartfelt dedication to his father, as he also acknowledged we have all lost people we love along the way. Poulsen sung with his usual mix of sincerity and soaring range that reminded us all that beneath the riffs and swagger lies real soul. And then Poulsen introduced the longest, most gloriously ridiculous song title in modern metal with a huge grin.
In the Barn of the Goat Giving Birth to Satan’s Spawn in a Dying World of Doom. “It’s a ballad,” he deadpanned, after spending a good two minutes trying (and failing) to get the crowd to memorise it. From Shotgun Blues to For Evigt, it was a masterclass in melodic muscle. By the time Still Counting and A Warrior’s Call / Pool of Booze, Booze, Booza brought the night home, the Hydro was one sweaty, euphoric mass of fists, quiffs, beer, and pure joy.
And yeah — for the record — we’re still waiting for them to play our personal favourite Cape of Our Hero. Maybe one day they’ll give us that dream moment. Until then, Volbeat can do no wrong in our eyes.
A smash-hit show. One of the best gigs we’ve seen all year. Long live the kings of Danish rock ’n’ roll.
9.5/10
