Guns N' Roses, Prodigy, The Offspring, Slipknot, Incubus, NOFX : Leeds Carling Weekend Main S

Guns N' Roses steam on over an hour late after a day of no-show rumours with 'Welcome To The Jungle'. Axl looks as big as a house, complete with bandana and dreadlock wig befitting a man so ridiculous. Meanwhile Buckethead tries to outslash Slash at every corner, and though they're little more than Axl Rose's mobile disco by now it's still attached to a juggernaut. His screech is still as blood-curdling as ever and if you squint it could be 1991.

'Sweet Child O' Mine', 'You Could Be Mine' and 'Knockin' On Heaven's Door' are rolled out alongside a clutch of electronically-tinged new songs.

By 'November Rain', it's already an hour past curfew and the show has turned into a stand-off. Axl demands eight more songs, and there's little the authorities can do. The show blasts on, allowing Buckethead a five-minute solo spot and it ends as it should with 'Paradise City', fireworks and flame-throwers. No riot then, but who knows what will happen now.


The Prodigy don't begin well. In front of a backdrop straight out of Vegas, and Keith is less the twisted Firestarter than confused gurner.

Only Maxim carries their punk-techno freakshow with any conviction, and even that has a lot to do with his yellow contact lenses. But after 'Smack My Bitch Up' something explodes. At their bloodthirsty best, like on 'Their Law', the beats bolster the siren guitars and not the other way round. And even though their cover of 'Night Boat To Cairo' by Madness is baffling, it rocks hard enough to suspend your disbelief. By 'Poison' we're in complete awe and even 'Baby's Got A Temper' doesn't sound timid. Result!



You can always rely on The Offspring for stupid big chested rock. On form, they powerblast through an hour as beefy as Dexter's pecs.

Unbelievably, they infuse even 'Gotta Get Away' with dark soul. And even though they lose it with 'Pretty Fly (For A White Guy)' , which just sounds embarrasing next to the closing 'Self-Esteem', it's all good fun. which is the only real point.



Slipknot blast in at full throttle with a ear-crunching 'People = Shit'. The show is a scaled -down version of their arena pantomime, but the lack of pyrotechnics allows the nine-headed beast to roam even wilder. 'Purity' is demolished in an industrial drum 'n' bass racket and 'My Plague' leaves craters on the turf. This is Slipknot at their most crucial, critical mass. What happened to the Spice Girls when they started doing solo projects?



Somebody must be having a laugh placing Incubus slap in the middle of drive-time, but muscular torsos make for weedy metal, and as crowd fave 'Wish You Were Here' some things really do only work on a Californian beach. "Thank you for having us", beams Brandon Boyd, but we're not convinced that he even knows the name of the city he's playing in.



NOFX play skate-punk like it should be played, or at least like it was in the late 90s. Orange hair, green dreadlocks and slamming riffs are the order of the day, carrying their punky ska pop through the afternoon. But by the ill-advised Irish jig with powerchords they sign off you can hear Phil Lynott turn in his grave.


Their mentors Limp Bizkit aren’t even here, but Puddle Of Mudd still look they’ll always be bridesmaids. They play lumberjack metal with stadium sized holes where their souls should be, ‘Control’ rocks like a bastard, with Wes Scantlin leading a singalong of ‘she fucking hates me’. Sounds a bit distasteful after the real life accusations of wife-beating.


Only on a rock day could Hundred Reasons feel like the pure pop interlude. They could even be U2 considering the everyman anthems they shovel out. ‘Silver’ is flowering into a proper classic, and these are the most life-affirming three-part harmonies you’ll hear all weekend.



Amen gamely remind us of the days when they looked like holders of the future rock baton. Cast adrift low down the bill, Casey Chaos shows us his smiling demon freakshow is still in working order. He bitches about Axl Rose, dives off speaker stacks and debuts killer new songs like ‘Please Kill Me’. ‘The Price Of Reality’ shows that pure evil will always find a way through



Later on Hundred Reasons dedicate ‘Silver’ to the Dillinger Escape Plan, claiming they’ll be they’ll be ‘the best band you see all weekend’. Hardly, but they are the first band worth seeing all weekend. Collaborator Mike Patton isn’t here, but their singer makes up by diving topless into the crowd to a soundtrack of fabulous jab-infused metal.



Dan Martin