The Big Review: Welcome To Rockville 2026

Welcome To Rockville hits different. With 300,000 fans and a host of the biggest bands in heavy music descending onto the massive Daytona International Speedway over a four-day weekend where the beer is served only icy cold, temperatures don’t drop below 20ºC even in the dead of night and the volume is rarely less than deafening, it’s sort of like a hard-rocking Florida theme park.

Many of the seasoned world-travellers milling around backstage will opine that Rockville, like the range of other festivals run by U.S. mega-promoter Danny Wimmer, stands apart from Stateside competition because of what it learned from events in Europe.

Immaculately organised, boasting a star-studded line-up from bottom to top, even utilising a racetrack location that calls to mind both the UK's Download and Germany’s Rock am Ring, they have a point this weekend. But it’s the things outside organisers control – volatile weather, fired-up bands unwilling to be swept away, the famously ‘ratchet’ Floridian attitude – that makes this Sunshine State celebration so unforgettable.

Even lightning storm shutdowns halting play across the weekend can't dampen the spirits. And with a star-studded line-up featuring everyone from reliable rock legends Foo Fighters and Guns N’ Roses, to fiery upstarts Paleface Swiss and Thornhill, not to mention Bring Me The Horizon delivering NeX Gen and My Chemical Romance resurrecting The Black Parade, it’s impossible to be bummed out anyway. Especially when your old pals Kerrang! had our own K! Pit side stage hosting intimate shows across the weekend (keep your eyes peeled for more of that madness).

So dive in, as we re-live the hottest, hardest four days of 2026 so far...

"Everybody, this is my mom and dad!" announces Eric Dangerfield, waving wildly to stage-right with big ‘Look, ma!’ energy as if he can't quite believe he's made it to Rockville. "Uh, I don't know what I'm doing so I'm gonna' do this one!"

As one of the first bands at WTR 2026, it feels like The Paradox's jittery frontman knows exactly what he's doing with Do It Again and its tongue in cheek apology, 'I'm so sorry / I get drunk and party!' Then they really get the festivities started courtesy of a note-perfect cover of Lit's My Own Worst Enemy. With the midday sun burning down and literal ceiling fans sprinkling cool mist over the fans packed into the Garage stage, it’s hard to imagine the start-of-summer fun getting any better, but the bittersweet cocktail of swirling colour, surging dopamine and stinging heartache in No Strings Attached, Ms. Lauren and Do Me Like That manage it wonderfully. (SL)

If Castle Rat's fantastical outfits and macabre theatrics mark them out in the dark of a normal venue, in the blazing Florida sun they're even more otherworldly than usual. Oddly, it actually accentuates everything today, making them feel like they really have stepped out of The Realm and ended up in the real world where, unexpectedly, Deicide's Glenn Benton can be seen nodding his head and smiling along. It helps that a year on the road has seriously buffed them up, so now Riley Pinkerton genuinely feels like she's leading her cosmic stoner-rock freaks into battle against the Rat Reaperess. Talking of whom, they put in an appearance and get quickly offed by Riley's massive sword. Even without such tomfoolery, they have a superb line in retro riffs, somewhere between Green Lung and Rainbow at their most flamboyant. (NR)

“We’ve been running a little bit late with some technical fucking difficulties,” rages Anders Fridén as In Flames finally come up to speed with a crushing Deliver Us. “But this is gonna be ice-sharp, sweet and sweaty! Are you ready, my friends? Feel free to move!” It’s initially odd to see the Gothenburg legends self-describe as a sort of metallic ice lolly, but their truncated set turns out to be exactly the refreshment Daytona has been calling out for, combining the frosty aesthetic of their early career with the colour and heat of the later era. Tempers are running hot, too, with the pit threatening to turn into a fistfight a couple of times during the churn of In The Dark and The Mirror’s Truth, but by the catharsis of inevitable closer Take This Life, everyone is having fun. (SL)

Immolation have got songs older than some of the more youthful end of this weekend's death metal contingent like 200 Stab Wounds. But, as the New York legends swiftly prove, age is but a number when you're this brutal. There is no fading of power for Ross Dolan's death metal unit, and their mix of massive aggression and murky, dissonant darkness is an absolute treat, even when it's painful to stand in the sun. New tracks from this year's killer Descent album are those of a band only getting more muscular and creative with age, while their signature tune, "Written 39 fuckin' years ago!" remains a frenzy of old-school gold. (NR)

"We are creating a moment together," beams Archers frontman Nathaniel Pulley towards the end of a seismic half hour of power. "That is something we will never take for granted."

The Wisconsin crew's brand of affirmative pop-metalcore might seem formulaic on record, but with massive sound this afternoon, and a sprawling crowd cooking in the sun, Better Off and Never Enough come boldly into their own, far bigger than the UK clubs they were touring through this time last month. Massive closer Perfect Strangers is the pick of the bunch, a sultry anthem that connects with metalheads and casual listeners all the same to gets heads banging and hips moving. (SL)

The bass drop soundcheck before Suffocation even step onstage is so aggressively bowel-shuddering that a couple of punters perched down the front make a hasty run for the porta-potties before the New York death metal legends even step onstage. Opinions on guitarist Terrance Hobbs having just shaved off his legendary dreadlocked skullet aside, it's the only shitty moment mind from a band of destroyers who seem to relish turning up the heat on afternoons as crispy as this. "We're sorry for the short set," frowns Ricky Myers before sickening closer Infecting the crypts. Frankly, it’s just as well they did, ir those of us taking notes from the pit would’ve been left scribbling in brown… (SL)

In a town where you can't walk down the street without seeing a dozen churches, it's actually The Satanist who brings a degree of salvation today, as a bloke with a hose begins watering the crowd during Behemoth's knockout set. Nergal is on particularly fiery form as he leads his Polish black metal juggernaut through a display of precision-tooled blasphemy, somehow not melting off his corpsepaint immediately, and looking even more powerful than usual as he emerges in his elaborate headgear. Ora Pro Nobis Lucifer is a deadly opening assault, while The Shit Ov God sends (weirdly) Where's Wally over the barrier, and Ov Fire And The Void delivers a vast boot up the arse. Where once it was odd seeing Behemoth in broad daylight, they've now become masters of taking the anomaly and recrafting it into a powerful flex, bringing darkness even under blue skies. Deadly, as ever. (NR)

“Welcome To Rockville, it is great to be back home in Florida,” grins Bryan Kuznitz as temperatures spike on Thursday afternoon. “But remember, it's a hot one today, so stay hydrated because this is about to get rowdy!”

Stepping up on the adjacent stage straight after Suffocation, Palm Beach pop-metallers Fame On Fire may have amusingly overestimated their spot on today’s heavy hierarchy, but the high sheen thump of Nightmare (The Devil), Plastic Heart and Cut Throat go down like a slushy Margarita all the same. Welcome To The Chaos is a particular highlight, its combination of irresistible melody and tooth-breaking munchiness suggesting big things to come. (SL)

“You're out there all day in this sun drinking, partying and having a good time,” says Johan Hegg, cracking a knowing smile as a legion of wannabe Vikings wade through the oppressive heat late on Thursday afternoon for Amon Amarth. “You're metal through and through!”

Thankfully, a red fire truck has turned up to hose down the sweltering throng and they’re able to charge on through Shield Wall, get down to row, row, row for Put Your Back Into The Oar and dash off for a refill of mead (Bud Light, really) as Johan instructs everybody to Raise Your Horns. It’s unclear how many folk here have any idea who Biff Byford is as he appears onscreen for the excellent Saxons And Vikings, but everyone is onboard for Twilight Of The Thunder God – even if it feels extra ominous as clouds gather over Daytona… (SL)

There's no backdrop for State Champs over on the Garage stage as we head towards the home straight on Thursday, but the pop-punk mainstays waste not a single opportunity to remind everyone exactly who they are – or that they're all about having a great fucking time. “I'm having fun up here, god damn,” laughs Derek DiScanio as the Albany boys pulse through Outta My Head, Light Blue and All You Are Is History. “Are you having fun?!" Damn straight. The sepia flavour of their songwriting, balancing bittersweet nostalgia and unfailing hope, is a perfect elixir as the sun begins to sink out of the Floridian sky and a supercharged secrets bounces their big crowd back out of the Garage with a monster truck sized spring in their step. (SL)

Alice Cooper emerges in a white top hat. Alice Cooper has a dalliance with a massive Frankenstein's monster. Alice Cooper escapes from a straitjacket. To huge, bloodthirsty cheers, Alice Cooper gets his head cut off by a guillotine. We've all seen his classic horror show 10,000 times by now. But would we watch it again? Fucking right, we would. Even with a new guitarist – excellent British six-stringer Anna Cara, taking the place of on-maternity-leave Nita Strauss – it's spooky business as usual for the master of shock. Poison is, of course, a banger, as is the sneering I'm Eighteen, a raucous No More Mr Nice Guy, and camp Only Women Bleed. Now 78, Alice himself remains such a nimble and demanding ringmaster that you start to wonder if he died years ago and you're actually watching his charismatic ghost up there. It's about the only way he could get any more macabre. Even playing basically the same set he has for all of this century feels vibrant and thrilling, with School's Out still able to deliver the last-day-of-school thrill as it did 50 years ago. It really is astonishing. In fact, the change he adds in, a cover of Smells Like Teen Spirit, "For Kurt", is an entirely unnecessary bit of messing with success. Alice Cooper, though? Still the greatest frontman on Earth. (NR)

“I showed up here feeling nervous,” smiles Dan "Soupy" Campbell, tentatively, as The Wonder Years step into the Garage. “I showed up here feeling anxious. We've never played Daytona. We've never played a festival like this in our lives!”

Admittedly, the Pennsylvanian punks are playing to one of the smaller crowds of the day under the canopy, but that’s probably more to do with the sun finally having gone down, and the deliciously bittersweet I Don’t Like Who I Was Then, Low Tide, Wyatt’s Song and There, There are low-key amongst the best songs played at Rockville all weekend. “This song only works when its a bunch of motherfuckers like us screaming in one voice,” Soupy insists before firing into GODDAMNITALL. He needn’t worry, mind, as the impassioned singalong from WTR’s more sensitive soul lasts the whole goddamn set. (SL)

“Does anyone here know We The Kings?” smiles frontman Travis Clark, safe in the knowledge of a roaring Garage stage already packed well beyond capacity. “Good, because we are very much a Florida band!” The Bradenton pop-punk veterans already showcased their home state swagger over on the K! Pit stage at lunchtime, but here it’s writ large: surging, sugary goodness packed with sunshine that goes down like a pint of well-chilled orange juice. There might be a few more grey hairs and lines around the eyes than when they first broke out, but they’re living proof that growing up doesn’t need to mean getting old as Travis instructs everyone how to perform a special dance to I Feel Alive devised by his young daughters. Then a climactic rendition of Check Yes Juliet confirms it’s still one of the best songs from the golden era big fringes and bigger choruses. (SL)

“Fists in the fuckin' air!” demands Brandon Saller. Because Atreyu are on a charge right now. Aside from having just dropped their best album in over 20 years with outstanding tenth offering The End Is Not The End, Brandon and the boys are pulling out the stops on a mission to prove that they’re still capable of stepping up to the sort of superstardom that old muckers Avenged Sevenfold already did. At Rockville, that begins with a short demolition of the K! Pit, charging through with Becoming The Bull and a handful of equally muscular fresh cuts. It ends with them playing one of the biggest crowds of the weekend over on the Vortex stage – a swirl of crowdsurfers and circle-pits – where their muscularity of Ego Death is complimented by the sensitivity of a flamenco cover of Audioslave’s Like A Stone and a raucous Right Side Of The Bed confirms their qualifications to step on up bills like these. For Atreyu, The End… feels like a whole new beginning. (SL)

"Hello Rockville, we are Guns N' Roses." For the Brits in attendance, there's a wonder that America properly gets Cradle Of Filth when Dani is in banter mode. At one point, one young woman opines that he sounds like a squeaky bike wheel. Anyway, as they bring down the sun this evening, they also seem to be working to a strategy of every other song switching between imperious and deadly, or misfiring rubbish. So, while To Live Deliciously is something of a stagger, and old classic The Principle Of Evil Made Flesh is weirdly anaemic, for the time that they're playing the sinful Cruelty Brought Thee Orchids or Iron Maiden-sized Her Ghost In The Fog, they are absolutely untouchable. An odd performance, but not for the reasons you want. (NR)

At five o’clock in the afternoon, Alice Cooper, reliable as ever, gives Welcome To Rockville a stadium-sized circus of horrors. With the temperature creeping toward 100 degrees, the Master Of Shock remains ice cool as he doles out decapitations, executions and fights against a massive Frankenstein’s monster at Daytona International Speedway.

He should check over his shoulder, though. Because Spencer Charnas is looking to usurp his cartoonishly carrion-stained throne. While headliners Guns N’ Roses close out the first day of this year’s bash, over the other side of this gargantuan site, he and Ice Nine Kills are giving Daytona a gory but charming lesson in camp, wonderful, ’80s B-movie violence.

There’s stabbings with big knives. At one point he shoots Agent Smith from The Matrix in the head. At another, he emerges as Freddy Krueger with a big, fearsome glove. He duets with viral sensation MAPHRA for her first-ever live performance. And as is now tradition, during the banging Hip To Be Scared Spencer, dressed in a pristine white shirt, braces and mack, does the bit from American Psycho where Patrick Bateman kills Paul Allen with an axe in the face, to – naturally – enormous cheers.

• Read the full review: Serial thrillers! How Ice Nine Kills slayed Welcome To Rockville 2026

“Right now you’re all goin’, ‘We paid for this?!’” A flash of mischief flickers across Axl Rose’s face. As Thursday night’s Welcome To Rockville headliners barrel out of incendiary opener Welcome To The Jungle and into a rendition of Bad Obsession packing roughly the same absurdly overblown swagger as a T-Rex with leather trousers on, Guns N’ Roses’ frontman allows himself a wry smile.

Almost exactly a decade ago, when Axl, Slash and Duff McKagan first announced they’d be getting the band back together, the idea of ‘the original’ Guns N’ Roses closing Thursday night in Daytona with a scheduled three-and-a-half hours in front of 50,000-odd fans would’ve set hearts racing. Ten years later, not so much. Arriving just a few minutes late tonight, the most dangerous band in the world don’t have fans waiting around half as much these days. But their in-song timekeeping, appetite for self-indulgence and struggles with high notes have recently left much to be desired.

Acknowledging and owning those shortcomings makes a hell of a difference, though. Trimming the fat, rather than last summer’s wildly overbloated 30-song setlist, Rockville gets 24 tracks this evening, coming in at just over 150 minutes. It's still a lot of Guns, but there’s far less fucking about to stall momentum.

• Read the full review: What happened when Guns N’ Roses stormed Welcome To Rockville 2026
  

“I need a circle-pit,” Stu Folsom whips up the chaos as SpiritWorld career into a cataclysmic Relic Of Damnation. “No, I need a much bigger circle-pit... and stick your middle fingers up, too!” Dressed in nudie suits and cowboy boots, it’s a pity there aren’t more fans in attendance to appreciate the effort one of America’s finest young metal bands put in today, but those who haul themselves out of bed for a bowl of cowboy-flavoured Slayer worship certainly don’t leave disappointed. From Moonlit Torture to Waiting For The Reaper, jumping in this unhinged mosh might be the most thrilling experience you could ask for without drawing pistols or pulling some assless chaps on. (SL)

“How we doin’ Rockville?” asks Liv Mitchell as a tight-knit gang of local hardcore fans roar their approval for Not Enough Space. “That’s right, we’re from right here in Orlando, Florida!” Orlando isn’t exactly Daytona, but the wave of early doors support confirms this can be considered very much home territory for a band who’re fast outgrowing the (still very funny) ‘moancore’ gimmick with which they first broke out. The harsh/clean dynamic between Liv and co-vocalist Lizzie Raatma is a big part of that, sure, but not half as much as the raw, politicised power of Primitive, Solace In Silence, Eye 4 An Eye and No Way Out, which quickly catch fire in the Floridian heat and light. (SL)

Winona Fighter are immense today. The Nashville gang's electric, athletic, big-riffing punk is a winner as standard by now, but there's an extra bounce in Coco Kinnon's step today, and not just because it's their first show this year. She's already a star in the making, and on a massive stage like this, it's an opportunity to see her in full flight, running tirelessly across its full length throughout, filling the space with her Tigger-ish energy. Even being "hot as balls" doesn't slow her down as they tear through I Think You Should Leave, You Look Like A Drunk Phoebe Bridgers and the live debut of killer newie Bombs Away. "I may throw up during this, so if you have a problem with that, look away," she declares as they kick into their cover of Beastie Boys' Sabotage, before getting into the pit for the joyous riot of closer HAMMS IN A GLASS. They may be "DIY 'til we die", but they suit the biggest stages very well. A complete knockout. (NR)

"We're going straight back to the '90s for this one," shrugs Ken Andrews as Failure slip into Stuck On You. It doesn’t feel like too much of a shift as these Los Angeles cult heroes’ whole set feels like a weird sort of time-travel back to the era of plaid shirts and distressed denim. Seemingly forever an underrated band – and playing in an unforgiving mid-afternoon glare – the alt. trailblazers have a sparse crowd over on the massive Octane Stage but those in the know are treated to music that feels very much the missing link between original grunge and modern alternative. The Air’s On Fire is a brilliantly literal opener as the mercury rises, and while Smoking Umbrellas and Submarines burn unapologetically slowly, they're impossibly dense with angst and uncertainty. By the time a gargantuan Heliotropic draws the set to a close, this scorched speedway feels a little more like a cold, dark place. Failure? Try ‘absolute success’. (SL)

"Rockville!" Gala Tsendbaatar greets a massive crowd baking in front of the Octane stage. "You rock!" It's one of the very few bits of chit chat this afternoon from unstoppable Mongolian horde The HU. Where once they felt like something of a gimmick band trading heavy on throaty folk singing, traditional instruments and a funny band name, the Ulaanbaatar mob have evolved into an all conquering army whose constantly chugging riffs sound sort of like what it might if Rob Zombie had gotten into obscure world cinema instead of horror. Florida laps it up, too, with Yuve Yuve Yu and supercharged steamroller closer This Is Mongol inspiring absolute scenes. "We love Rockville," Gala signs off. "We are The HU!" Enough said, really… (SL)

"Are you ready to rock and roll?" ask The Warning, apparently unaware that Rockville has been rocking and rolling for a good 24 hours at this point. While the Villarreal Vélez sisters aren't exactly the most dangerous proposition, in the arena-ready S!CK, Escapism and Sharks they dole out some serious riffs. It helps they've got an easy charisma, too. You just wish that the heavier moments – when the band really come to life – lasted longer. (NR)

Brits abroad alert! Eagle-eyed Rockville punters who happened to catch Carcass on their recent UK tour with Kreator will notice that Jeff Walker and Bill Steer appear not to have changed out of their blue jeans and DILF-y button-down shirts in the past month, simply choosing to accessorise with tasty sunglasses. That’s sort of a metaphor for their performance, too, as they’ve packed any remaining space in their suitcases with much of the same set list and bloodthirsty good form. Buried Dreams, Incarnated Solvent Abuse and Corporal Jigsore Quandry glint like surgical steel in the harsh Florida sun. And even if they get cut short after a massive Heartwork, this is surely one of the best pure metal sets Rockville has ever seen. Disgustingly great fun. (SL)

“Who's seeing us for the first time?” asks Jorel “J-Dog” Decker as Hollywood Undead hit their stride in front of an absolutely massive Octane Stage audience. About half of the thousands turned out cheer. “Okay, who's seeing us for the first time but thinks we suck and turned up late?” Scattered jeers. “Hey, fuck you!” One face in the crowd describes the now-unmasked Los Angeles rap-rock collective as “smart enough to look stupid”, and it’s hard to argue with as bone-headed cuts CHAOS, Riot and Comin’ In Hot draw more fans than this stage’s uber-cool headliners. That said, Day Of The Dead is an all-time twangy banger. And the utterly puerile Everywhere I Go has even the a gaggle of grannies clumped together at the back roaring along. Not that they’d admit it. (SL)

“Are you ready to KEEEEELL?” asks Kreator mainman Mille Petrozza. The German thrash icons look a tad worse for wear as they step back onto the Inferno stage after a severe weather warning that saw their original set pulled after two songs, and the whole site shut down for two hours, necessitating a redrawing of the plan for the rest of the day's schedule. This is actually the third time they’ve started a set today, having kicked things off at lunchtime over in The K! Pit. Having already thundered through Seven Serpents and Enemy Of God before the skies started banging along, they opt not to repeat themselves, thrashing hard into Hate Über Alles, People Of The Lie and Betrayer. Bludgeoning new song Krushers Of The World was patently made for shows this size and it unequivocally makes its mark, detonating sheer mosh chaos. Hell, by the time they get to the closing barrage of Violent Revolution and Pleasure To Kill even the massive inflatable demons and ‘Violent Mind’ seem to be nodding their approval. “The Kreator will return!” Mille promises as they finally take their leave. Hopefully with less weather shenanigans. (SL)

"Welcome back, Rockville!," grins Winston McCall. "A little bit of rain ain't stopping this shit!" Indeed, it'll take more than a storm warning to get in Parkway Drive's way, who treat their only U.S. show of the year as a statement of intent. Glitch detonates first with perfectly timed pyro ripping everyone back into life. Wild Eyes feels supersized, like it’s been rebuilt for stadiums, every chorus landing heavier than you remember. Closer Crushed uses more pyro than a festival organised by Satan with fireballs licking the sky as the crowd turns into a single bouncing mass of bodies. Behind it all, Ben Gordon’s rotating drum kit spins like a weaponised carnival ride, the crowd losing all sense of structure along with it. This could well be Parkway's audition for headlining here one day... (JH)

"This is either the greatest night of my life or I'm just high from all the weed smoke," announces Noodles. "Why not both?" asks Dexter Holland. If The Offspring spent as much time playing as they do horsing around, telling crap jokes and pretending to be much, much dumber than they are, they'd be able to fit a lot more songs in, but they wouldn't be half as much fun. When they do get round to some music, the California punk heroes are ramshackle but untouchable. Opening with a one-two of Come Out And Play and All I Want proves that under the fooling around they know exactly what they're doing, and Want You Bad, Staring At The Sun and The Kids Aren't Alright effortlessly get the whole field bouncing. For a man who's never knowingly hit a correct note in his life, Dexter Holland's decision to ditch his guitar and concentrate on singing for a bit is a very, very bold one, but it's all part of the charm. And as a dozen red-hatted inflatable wavey arm guys appear onstage for Pretty Fly (For A White Guy), you realise that it doesn't matter. Because when The Offspring do their thing, they still slay. (NR)

"Fuck the world!” rages Marc ‘Zelli’ Zellweger. “Fuck everybody! Fuck this place up!” For a moment, you could swear that Paleface Swiss’ superstar-in-the-making frontman wasn’t having the time of his life. Hatred, ...and with hope you’ll be damned and Nail To The Tooth don’t lift the illusion of discontent. But Zelli can’t contain his megawatt smile for long.

“The rain is over. The music is back. The energy is back. And I need each and every one of you to lose your fucking minds. This is what real heavy music sounds like, bitch!” Having already demolished The K! Pit earlier in the day, Paleface make short work of a rammed Vortex stage, coming on like a cross between Korn and Slipknot. Just heavier – and sexier. They might not have the crossover hits to be absolutely massive just yet, but with charisma levels through the roof, and banter for days (“Thanks for all these bracelets,” Zelli treasures gifts from his crafty admirers. “I’m going to put them on my dick!”) Everything Is Fine and Please End Me already sound guaranteed to wreck arenas one day soon. (SL)

“Thank you for being here with us,” says Brendan Yates. “Thank you for braving the storm.”

English festival goers used to braving the worst wetness and mud nature has to offer might be surprised at a show-stop for inclement weather, but the thunder and lightning that sweeps into Florida on the Friday of Welcome To Rockville is a dastardly creature. The speedway empties out as folks head for shelter, and an eerie, uneasy calm sets in as the Heavens open, and Kreator and Poppy have to abandon what they’re doing as a red alert comes up.

It is, then, with a sense of snatching victory from the jaws of defeat that Turnstile emerge – almost two hours after the planned start – to headline the Friday second stage. And what was always going to be a triumph anyway earns an extra bit of adrenaline and catharsis. Which, in the context of Turnstile, becomes dynamite squared.

• Read the full review: Styling it out! Turnstile overcome the elements to deliver a masterclass at Welcome To Rockville 2026

“Heeyyyy!” howls Dave Grohl, igniting pent up frustration with feral intensity. “You had to wait all night for this shit, and we’ve got to squeeze in 31 years to this fuckin’ set. Are you ready?!”

Damn right, Rockville is ready. After severe thunderstorms saw the festival site evacuated for a couple of hours, leading some acts to cancel altogether, the Foo Fighters frontman leads his band on as the unyielding hero, ready to save the day at the literal eleventh hour. Opening with a cover of Late!’s Winnebago, the first song Foos ever jammed together, isn’t the barn-burning beginning most would want as the clock ticks towards midnight, but a tarmac-rattling All My Life sets shit off.

“We’ve played shows before where the weather has fucked stuff up,” Dave pauses for breath after the initial onslaught, the lights going up on a massive main stage crowd. “Everybody goes away to their cars and I always wonder whether they’ll come back. So I’m very thankful that you have. And now we’re all here? We’re going to play songs and you’ll sing along until they pull the plug!”

• Read the full review: Foo Throttle! How Foo Fighters conquered Welcome To Rockville 2026

How Amira Elfeky can wear her thick dress and hoodie combo in temperatures that would make Lucifer himself reach for the hand-fan, we'll never know. However she manages it, she's cooler than an Everest-sized pile of cucumbers as she hits Rockville's Main Stage. Her slinky, dark-electro-tinged alt-metal is similarly icy, bringing a dusky atmosphere to the lunchtime sun. True, she's best under cover of darkness, but Will You Love Me When I'm Dead and Tonight still perfectly capture her vibe. A star in the making, for sure. (NR)

"You're not fucking loud enough!" yells Joshua Roberts, jumping over the barrier halfway through Magnolia Park's set. "Circle-pit, bitch!" They may occasionally sound a bit 'we have Bring Me The Horizon at home', but today they are at home, or near enough. As such, it's a wild homecoming party for the Orlando crew, demanding "more crowdsurfers" and kicking off the first massive circle-pits of the day. Even an interruption to get one unfortunate soul out of the crowd doesn't slow them down, while an invitation to throw up a middle finger because "our country is fucked up right now because of one person" followed by a 'Fuck Trump' chant is enthusiastically accepted. Today, the home squad knocked it out of the park. (NR)

“We were supposed to play this stage on Thursday, but my visa was held up in London,” says Lucas Woodland, wearing a compelling mixture of stress and relief. “I flew in at 9pm last night. I am jet-lagged like a motherfucker. But here we go.” Snatching victory from the jaws of defeat looks good on Holding Absence. Even though the Cardiff post-hardcore crew were originally scheduled to be next door on the Vortex stage and are now on the distinctly extreme-metal Inferno, filling in themselves for absent Italian riff-miners Wind Rose, the crowd are fully on their side. They’re well rewarded, too, with live debuts for Whisper Of A Dream and the unreleased Reflection, and Lucas’ explanation that they came from ideation on loneliness. It’s the chance to hear established favourites Like A Shadow, A Crooked Melody and Afterlife that really thrills the fans, though. “Fifty hours ago, I was miserable as fuck, trying to figure out how to get here,” the singer explains. “Getting on the plane I didn't know if it was going to happen. I found out it was at 30,000 feet. So thank you.” Don’t sweat it, Lucas. The pleasure is all Rockville’s. (SL)

Twenty-four hours after releasing their new album, Vindicate, Black Veil Brides could probably think of loads of better ways to celebrate than the whole site getting the plug pulled for a red alert weather warning after a whole three songs. For the time they're onstage, though, they seem intent of making Rockville theirs. Though Andy Biersack recently commented to K! that those surprised how heavy they are these days haven't been paying attention, it's still noticeable just how muscular and beefed up they are these days. The dramatic Bleeders, in particular, is hulking today. It's a shame to get so little. But then again, as every great showman knows, it's also good to leave them wanting more. (NR)

“Every day you wake up, you should say to yourself 'Its fucking awesome that I'm alive…’” preaches Dez Fafara after the storms have passed on Saturday, “because I've got God on my side!" It’s not exactly the pearl of wisdom you’d expect from the frontman of, er, DevilDriver as the Californian groove metal kings reignite the Inferno Stage after the storm, but there’s not too much time to think about it. Because between their Conan The Barbarian intro (‘Kill your enemies, see them driven before you’), a live debut for Dig Your Own Grave and the blunt smash of End Of The Line it’s time to mosh. The pits don’t hit as hard as they used to, yes, but Dez is pulling double-duty with Coal Chamber this weekend – not to mention that he’s just a few days from his 60th birthday. And the climactic Clouds Over California still unloads all the high impact anyone could seriously want. (SL)

“We apologise for being late,” sighs Randy Blythe as Lamb Of God finally take to the massive Octane stage under the thickening cover of darkness. “Unfortunately, I have no control over the weather.” Funny that, because they bring pure thunder to Rockville. Coming out of the gates with a pair of bona fide metal classics like Ruin and Laid To Rest is always going to be awesome, but it’s LOG’s tightness, their mastery of bone-stripping guitar tones and Randy’s educated assurance and compassion as a frontman – finding time to shout out a fan battling cancer – that puts them a cut above virtually everyone else. New songs Into Oblivion and Parasocial Christ slot in tidily, but Resurrection Man is the late-era track that really lights up this evening. There’s fire on the screens and erupting from the stage for an awesome Walk With Me In Hell, absolute wrath for Omerta and a rendition of Redneck to really torture the sunburnt horde. A brutal masterclass. (SL)

First thing this morning, Dead Poet Society did a turn in The K! Pit, on our small stage over in the pit lanes, for a decidedly stripped-down show. Under cover of darkness in front of a packed house for their main set on the Garage Stage, it's a very different experience. Silhouetted by atmospheric lights at the back of the stage, and wreathed in fog, they become a mellower, proggier Deftones, or a post-hardcore Muse. "I am the sweatiest I've ever been in my life right now," grins frontman Jack Underkofler. Maybe, but they also give off the day's most effortlessly cool vibe. (NR)

“Napalm Death and musical niceties are, quite frankly, totally incompatible,” Barney Greenway explains to anyone in the already fairly sparse Inferno stage crowd who might have been confused. Fair play, the “wholly unapologetic noise legends from Birmingham, England” do drop the relatively accessible, brilliantly groovy Amoral as a sort of make-up to anyone whose ears they’ve offended, but they’re otherwise a refreshing alternative to some of the bill's more polished fare. With a restricted set length, Suffer The Children and Contagion are delivered even more fast and frenetic than normal. “It's time to get a wriggle on,” Barney gasps with a wry smile before Lucid Fairytale. Then he demands the crowd “concentrate, for fuck's sake” on the shorter songs. Closer Nazi Punks Fuck Off is dedicated to Florida Governor Ron De Santis in one of the few instances of unapologetic political pot-stirring all weekend. Because Napalm Death bend the knee for absolutely nobody. (SL)

“This shit right here is a dream come true,” gushes Chris Motionless. King Goth even smiles a big, sweet, grateful grin as he says it. Motionless In White are no strangers to Rockville, but tonight is a spoopy celebration for King Goth and co. “This is the first time we’ve played in the dark… where we feel at home.”

Today’s storm-related show stop has been a drag for many. For the Pennsylvania poltergeists, though, it’s not been all bad luck, as they’ve ended up with a later, and thus even more nocturnal, stage time than originally planned. Second only to Bring Me The Horizon on Welcome To Rockville’s enormous Main Stage, Chris tells his flock that it makes them “feel like headliners.” The fact that there’s a band on afterwards becomes a mere technicality. Tonight, Motionless In White paint the Sunshine State in many, many shades of black, all of them exhilarating.

Even having to put the brakes on at several points to deal with crowd assistance can’t hurt their momentum. Gothed up to the nines and looking like Satan’s own alt. bad-lad, Chris is a man absolutely starving for this moment.

• Read the full review: Fright night! Motionless In White plunge the Sunshine State into darkness at Welcome To Rockville 2026

“Are you fans of circle-pits?” Oli Sykes goads an already feverish crowd, wringing the very last from Saturday night. “It doesn’t look like it. It doesn’t look like you’ve ever heard of what a circle-pit is...”

Earlier lightning storms led to a temporary site evacuation again on day three of Welcome To Rockville 2026, but Bring Me The Horizon aren’t about to let themselves be upstaged by a little thing like the wrath of God. No, tonight is the first time they’ve brought NeX GEn to Florida. We’re at the witching hour, but heavy eyes and weary legs will need to wait as Sheffield’s finest steal the show.

“Let’s break some fuckin’ bones,” the ravenous ringleader continues to stoke, his Yorkshire accent cranked up to 11. “Let’s do some fuckin’ brain damage. Daytona, pull the fuckin’ tampon out!”

• Read the full review: Event Horizon! BMTH take it to the NEx LeVeL as they being their enormo-show to Welcome To Rockville 2026

With the band-name flashing in neon colours on the big screens there’s an unapologetic emphasis on 2000s post-hardcore revivalism flowing through From First To Last. The Tampa lads might still be best known as the band that once featured Sonny Moore (aka Skrillex) on vocals, but this iteration with John Elias Villagran III (aka rapper and producer LiL Lotus) picking up the mic still packs plenty of punch. The yellow weather warning (basically a flag that the site will need to be evacuated) right as they step on means the crowd isn’t as hefty as it could’ve been, but Failure By Designer Jeans and Kiss Me, I’m Contagious sure are. Plus, Kellin Quinn drops by for a glowing Mirror Touch. (SL)

“Be loud anti-fascists,” pleads Anthony Green towards the climax of L.S. Dunes’ fantastic main stage showing early on Sunday afternoon. “Tell the truth. Free Palestine. Free Sudan. Free Congo. Free your mind!” It’s a stirring emotional outburst at a festival where even performative politics seem to have been put away for the most part, and a reminder that L.S. Dunes are currently at least as intriguing as any of its members far more famous bands. Indeed, two of them will play this stage later today – Coheed And Cambria and My Chemical Romance – but there’s no holding back as Grey Veins, Violent and an utterly electric Permanent Rebellion detonate onstage. Plus, closer 2022 remains a stirring reminder, not just of tragic recent history, but our ability to endure. Superb. (SL)

"Happy mother's day to all the moms," smiles Stephen Harrison. It's a lovely note from the energetic House Of Protection frontman, before continuing with the un-mum-friendly language. "It's hotter than a motherfucker in this bitch." Any mums will probably also wince as he climbs the stage struts with his guitar, or as drummer Aric Improta dois a backwards somersault off his kit. They might like the band's call to "put your arm around the person next to you, share some love" instead of a pit. Then Stephen leaps into the pit to sing in the middle. With storm clouds gathering, there's also an extra urgency to their energy today. "I don't wanna end up like Poppy, I wanna finish the set." They do, just. Seems even lightning doesn't strike like these two. (NR)

“In a world filled with melody, sometimes there has to be chaos,” booms a weirdly fitting intro tape as Underoath head onstage after Sunday’s frustrating weather stoppage. “For the next 40 minutes, we will take a break from the scheduled programme of this experience, and chaos will reign.” It’s a spot of genius theatricality perfectly fitting this scale of performance, but one which sits at odds with the rest of the Tampa crew’s more rough-edged performance, which feels unfocused in comparison, with the power of All The Love Is Gone and It’s Dangerous Business Walking Out Your Front Door not fully harnessed. Maybe it’s the rain. “One time we came to this festival and it stormed so bad we weren't able to play,” shrugs Spencer Chamberlain. “We have to cut things short today, but it's better than not playing at all!” Indeed, by the time they get to A Boy Brushed Red Living In Black And White, then the massive wall of death for Generation No Surrender, the crowd’s blood is pumping too hard to really complain. (SL)

If you're looking to re-start the show with a bang after the storm stoppage, you could do a lot worse than Thornhill. "The rain is done! Sun's out, let's fuckin' go," yells Jacob Charlton. "I need a real circle-pit!" Five minutes with the rising Aussie metalcore crew are enough to make you understand why they're on the up-and-up. In Jacob, they have a charismatic but still mysterious star in their ranks, while DIESEL and closer nerv are purpose-built for occasions such as this. Being slightly on the back foot with the re-jigged post-storm timetable adds an extra element of nervous energy to proceedings, while the idea of being one of the bands getting the show back on the road is one they wear very well. He needn't have bothered asking for the circle-pits, either... (NR)

Florida’s finest keep coming thick and fast on Sunday, with the echo of Underoath’s last demand that the audience “open shit up” still echoing as Sunshine State heavyists Bodysnatcher make their first. Safely on the home stretch, and still fresh from the weather stoppage, there’s little sign of pit fatigue in the crowd as Black Of My Eyes and Violent Obsession kick up the shit, and a giant inflatable Pikachu kicks off in the middle of the mosh. There’s also impressive compassion amidst the chaos, with Murder8 dedicated to Ill Niño whose set was cancelled amidst the storm chaos, a nod to the hopeful fan holding a sign over the barrier reading 'Can I play a song on drums, please?' and shout-outs to countless fellow Florida brethren. “It's crazy that we're here,” gasps Kyle Medina, “because I never thought we'd make it out of our fucking garage!” On this evidence, though, Bodysnatcher’s reign of terror is still just getting started. (SL)

There's such a big crowd gathered for Bloodywood in the Garage Stage that one couple have opted to watch from the roof of their RV in the campsite over the fence. Inside, Rockville is shaking its arse to their banging bhangra-metal. The rhythms of Aaj and Dana Dan get the whole place jumping, and you're once again hit by just how simply their sound fuses together to make such a big, powerful noise. There's words of wisdom that "Fear is a simple thing. It holds you or you hold it. There is nothing in between," which is basically The Litany Against Fear from Dune, while Nu-Delhi is a joyous, fearless work of festival metal joy. Their Main Stage slot at Download is going to be killer. (NR)

"We're not going to film a fuck-up, dudes!" laughs Kellin Quinn as Sleeping With Sirens first shot at shooting a live video for An Ending In Itself winds up in disarray. It’s illustrative of an easygoing but pin-sharp performance which hangs on the relationship between the Orlando boys and their (almost) home town fans. The blend of emo heart and post-hardcore wallop in The Bomb Dot Com V2.0, Leave It All Behind and Bloody Knuckles doesn’t hurt, either, and by the time If I’m James Dean, You’re Audrey Hepburn segues into If You Can’t Hang you sort of hope they’ve left the tape rolling as there’s a little magic in the thick Florida air. “Look for me during My Chemical Romance,” Kellin grins “I'll be out there with you guys, tonight.” Bet on half the people here queueing up to buy him a drink and shake his hand. (SL)

At lunchtime, 200 Stab Wounds got as far as their first riff before the weather had other ideas. Having been a late addition to the bill anyway, getting rained off after driving over 1,000 kilometers to be here isn't much fun. In the post-storm rescheduling, your old mates Kerrang! have come to the rescue, hosting an impromptu bonus K! Pit for the Cleveland brutalists. It's more compact, but from the moment a very stressed-looking band arrive onstage, it's absolute pandemonium in our literal pit lane garage. As pitters on one another's shoulders slam into each other and an endless stream of bodies go over the barrier, songs like Tow Rope Around The Throat and Hands Of Eternity display why 200 Stab Wounds are one of the best death metal bands in America right now. There's also even more energy than there would have been out in the main arena, not just compressed, but an outlet for a fraught day for the band. Playing on the barrier, bassist Todd Thompson looks like he's having the time of his life, as frontman Steve Buhl seems as though he may actually explode with the adrenaline surge. Having almost missed the day's kill, 200 Stab Wounds end up performing a massacre. Wait til you see the footage we got... (NR)

“We came here four years ago to try to play but it was not on the cards,” Tim McIlrath addresses the bruised sky with characteristic earnestness. “So we're overjoyed to be here today. In the end, though, Mother Nature is in charge.”

It’s an apt intro to Chicago punks Rise Against’s unforgettable climate anthem Help Is On The Way, but also a reminder of what they’re lacking in the drift more and more towards the centre-ground of mainstream rock. Neither as openly outraged as men as clever as they are should be with things in 2026, nor willing to allow themselves to just cut loose and have fun, Tim and the lads still wield the power of Re-Education (Through Labor), Satellite and the incredible Prayer Of The Refugee, but there’s a reluctance to wholeheartedly pull the trigger. As Ready To Fall spills into the climactic Savior, this is still an undeniably good set, mind, and they’ve certainly found a way to unite people, from the grubby hippies down the front to the possibly-confused dude in an ‘I HATE LIBERALS’ shirt banging away up in the grandstand bar. (SL)

“Alright Rockville, you’ve been through code reds, band cancellations, hot weather and all the rest so we are so grateful that you're here with us,” say Sam Carter, looking genuinely overwhelmed as Architects finally make it to the stage close to 11pm on Sunday night. “But we are Architects, and for the rest of the night, your arse belongs to us!”

Not quite, but even with the gravitational pull of My Chem over on the Main Stage – and Slaughter To Prevail to follow here – there’s something brilliantly climactic about the Brit-metal heroes occupying this prime slot. Still not quite up to ‘arena-conquering’ status Stateside, seeing Sam and the boys deploy the sort of sound and production they do in massive venues across the pond as rising contenders is thrilling, with Whiplash, When We Were Young and Broken Mirror (which has just crept into the U.S. Rock Top 10) knocking any doubters on their ass. House Of Protection show up for a cameo on Brain Dead, while on climactic song-song Animals, their headliner credentials are shining through. “This is so beautiful,” Sam almost sheds a tear, “looking out at people as far as the eye can see.” America better get used to it. (SL)

“Holy shit Daytona, are you alive out there?” Jeremy McKinnon teases a churning audience who have very much turned out for A Day To Remember. He pauses a second, then his friendly features can’t help to break onto a grin, ready to unleash a barn-burning All My Friends. “I’ve got to tell ya’, this has been absolutely electric this evening. So, how many people here are drinking? And how many people turned up here with their friends? Well, have we got the crossover song for you...”

Just an hour-and-a-half east of ADTR’s colourful birthplace of Ocala, this is about as close to a big festival homecoming as it gets for the proud Floridians. And no expense – or excess – is spared.

Indeed, it’s already their second set of the weekend after levelling the Kona Big Wave skate park with a secret show at lunchtime on Saturday. Officially unscheduled, but leaked on the festival app about an hour in advance, that performance was a chaotic ode to their roots. Filled only with songs from 2007 breakthrough For Those Who Have Heart, it was also arguably the highlight of the whole damn festival for the few thousand fans who managed to crash the space. Those inside got a cramped, no-frills throwback performance loaded with rarities they’ve not played in years (Fast Forward To 2012, Speak Of The Devil, Show ‘Em The Ropes) which almost collapsed in on itself under the weight of crowdsurfers and pits that came with The Plot To Bomb The Panhandle.

• Read the full review: Right Back At It Again! On the front row for ADTR’s Floridian homecoming at Rockville 2026

“Well,” smirks Gerard Way. “Look who’s back.”

Has it really been 20 years already? It only feels like last week that a much younger My Chemical Romance arrived onstage at Reading 2006, drummer-boy suits and all, to unveil the first proper live look at their new chapter to the UK. Billed after Slayer at teatime, as they unveiled bits of The Black Parade they were met with a storm of beer cups, burgers, wood chips and a fucking golf ball. The fun bit was the look in Gerard Way’s eyes as he led his band onstage, daring the naysayers to do their worst, and finished as a ketchupped-yet-unbowed hero of the day.

“They would have had to literally carry us off that stage for us to quit,” he told K! soon after. “We weren’t gonna give up or we’d have been full of shit.”

Two decades on, they arrive to close the final night of Rockville as all-conquering heroes, playing The Black Parade in full as a grandstanding testament to being a photo-finish for Band Of Their Generation. Bring Me The Horizon aside, in the near-200 bands who take to a stage this weekend, none have the same gravitas and, frankly, pandemonium as the Jersey boys.

• Read the full review: Back In Black! My Chemical Romance triumph at Welcome To Rockville

Read this next:

• The story of My Chemical Romance’s The Black Parade: “When it was done, I knew that we’d created a monster”
• Bring Me The Horizon: “The way we’re doing stuff now, it feels like I’m making art again, for art’s sake”
• A Day To Remember: “We’re always chasing that moment that connects with people on a deep level”