Live Review: Saxon - The Halls, Wolverhampton
14th November 2025
Support: Udo Dirkschneider
Words & Photos: Manny Manson
Another Friday, this time Friday the 14th, and it’s another trip to the Halls in Wolverhampton. This evening, the revamped hall has been transformed into a cathedral of classic metal. For tonight, two titans from Europe’s golden age of heavy music join forces for a night soaked in nostalgia, grit and the unmistakable pulse of hard rock rebellion. There was no need for overblown theatrics or modern pyrotechnics, this was a night about songs, riffs and legacy. On one hand stood Udo Dirkschneider, the eternally leather-clad figure whose snarl helped define German heavy metal and whose band U.D.O. came to celebrate the 40th anniversary of Balls to the Wall. On the other, the mighty Saxon, veterans of British Heavy Metal, out on their Hell, Fire and Steel tour and performing their landmark album Wheels of Steel in full. It was an evening that felt like a summoning, a meeting of two halves of the same metallic soul: the continental precision of Accept’s Teutonic thunder and the gritty northern swagger of Yorkshire’s most enduring sons.
The first of the night’s offerings felt less like an opening act and more like a full-blooded headline statement. Udo Dirkschneider, at 72, remains one of metal’s most distinctive frontmen, the rasping, sandpaper vocal tone instantly recognisable and unyielding with age. This tour saw him re-embracing the record that both made his name and defined Accept’s place in the pantheon. Balls to the Wall, released in 1983, was the album that broke Accept beyond Germany, riding the crest of the post-Priest heavy metal wave with a sound both muscular and melodic. For fans of that era, hearing it performed in full felt like more than nostalgia; it was a reclaiming of identity.
The lineup this time around had a familial heart to it: Udo front and centre; longtime associate from Accept’s own heyday, on bass, Peter Baltes laying down those thick, metallic grooves; Dee Dammers, on guitar along-side Alen Britini; and Sven Dirkschneider, Udo’s son, joining him behind the kit for the drum onslaught that has given this tour its muscle, a percussive depth that has made familiar songs feel freshly alive.
When the lights dimmed and the opening riff of “Balls to the Wall” thundered through The Halls, the roar that went up felt primal. Those opening chords, blunt, mid-tempo, heavy as granite, remain one of metal’s purest rallying cries. Udo stepped forward, eyes glinting beneath his camo cap, and that voice, that unmistakable rasp, hit the air with force. It wasn’t just nostalgia; it was vindication. The chorus, bellowed by several hundred throats, became a hymn of defiance: You’ve got your balls to the wall, man! The guitars were thick and cutting, the drums deep and commanding, and Udo’s grin suggested he knew exactly how much this meant to the faithful in front of him. “London Leatherboys” kept the energy taut, sleazy, defiant, dripping with the raw sensual energy that made Accept’s mid-eighties period so provocative. Baltes’ bass tone rumbled like an idling Harley, and the crowd moved as one to its swagger. There was a certain irony in hearing German musicians sing about the London underground scene four decades later, yet the song still carried that rebellious spirit of the early 80s, an era of studs, spikes and underground brotherhood.
Then came “Fight It Back”, its tempo quickened, guitars cutting like buzzsaws. Dammers and Britini’s guitar ‘s were brutal, and Sven mirrored the original with perfect timing, his drumming brutal and concussive the percussion beat rattling The Halls’ rafters. Udo’s delivery had that controlled chaos, an unrelenting growl that no amount of time has tamed. You could feel the crowd feeding off that energy, fists pumping, voices raw. By “Head Over Heels”, the set had found its groove. This one always felt like one of Accept’s more melodic moments, the riff elegant yet forceful. Udo’s voice dipped into melody before soaring back to his trademark bark; the contrast was delicious. A few fans at the front swayed arm-in-arm, perhaps remembering the song’s blend of aggression and strange tenderness.
“Losing More Than You Ever Had” followed, drenched in bittersweet minor chords. It’s one of the most underrated songs from Balls to the Wall, a moment of reflection, hidden within the heavy metal bombast. Baltes’ bass carrying an almost mournful tone beneath the thunder storm of drums, and Udo’s delivery, that had a surprising pathos, a rare glimpse of vulnerability amid the storm. The transition into “Love Child” re-ignited the room, its riff immediately recognisable, cutting and confrontational. Few songs in Accept’s catalogue have aged so provocatively, its themes of identity and defiance finding a new relevance in modern times. Udo delivered it with conviction, pointing toward the crowd as he sang, the message timeless: live as you are. “Turn Me On” swaggered in next, its mid-tempo pulse built for head-banging. Here the band locked into a monstrous groove, Sven’s drumming fierce and playful, Dammers providing those thunderous accents that punched every downbeat home. Udo, smiling broadly, toyed with the audience, letting them take the refrain before shouting it back at double volume.
By the time “Losers and Winners” hit, the crowd was in full-voice participation mode. The chorus, simple, bold, communal, filled the hall like a battle chant. Baltes leaned into the front row, throwing nods to the die-hards singing every word, his bassline providing the song’s heartbeat. “Guardian of the Night” deepened the atmosphere. Its darker, minor-key riffing and moody verses showed that Accept, and now U.D.O., were never just about brute force. There was melody, drama and storytelling in equal measure. Sven’s drums echoed through The Halls like cannon-fire, each snare hit reverberating against the interior construct. Then came “Winter Dreams”, closing the album run in haunting style. A power ballad in structure, but with the metallic edge intact. Udo’s voice carried genuine emotion, his rasp softening into something almost fragile. The hall fell into respectful quiet, phones raised, the odd phone light now obvious, that rare hush that only a veteran can command.
But this was Udo Dirkschneider, sentimentality could only linger for so long. A German folk sing-along followed, led by Sven from behind the kit, his youthful exuberance a perfect foil to his father’s grizzled grin. The entire crowd joined in, voices overlapping in a bizarre but joyous moment of communal noise. Then the unmistakable ferocity of “Fast as a Shark” tore through the room. The first true speed-metal song ever written still hits like a bullet train. The opening needle-scratch sample burst through the PA, followed by that insane double-kick intro, and The Halls erupted. Guitars squealed, Udo screamed, and bodies moved as one chaotic, joyous mass.
By the end, the sweat on Udo’s forehead gleamed under the lights, and the crowd’s applause was relentless. This wasn’t merely a celebration of an album; it was the reaffirmation of a legacy. Balls to the Wall still sounds alive, urgent and defiantly human. And as the lights came up and the stage crew began the reset, it was clear that U.D.O. had delivered not an opening set, but an act of remembrance and renewal.
If U.D.O. represented German precision and discipline, Saxon were its British counterpart: hard-grafting, blue-collar determination forged in the smoke and steel of Yorkshire. Formed in 1977, Saxon were there at the birth of British Heavy Metal, releasing Wheels of Steel in 1980 and helping define the sound of that generation. Four and a half decades later, frontman Peter “Biff” Byford remains the genre’s quintessential voice, rough, proud, unpretentious, a living embodiment of everything that the new classification, “NWOBHM” stands for.
The current lineup; Biff on vocals, Brian Tatler (of Diamond Head fame) and Doug Scarrett on guitars, Nibs Carter on bass and Nigel Glockler behind the kit, still represents one of the strongest versions of the band in years. Tatler’s inclusion adds a touch of early-metal royalty; the man who wrote “Am I Evil?” now stands shoulder-to-shoulder with Byford, a pairing that feels both inevitable and inspired. As the house lights dropped and the intro tape, “The Prophecy” heralded from the house PA, the room buzzed with an expectant anticipation. The first crunch of “Hellfire and Damnation” hit like a hammer. It’s a track from their 2024 album of the same name, and live it’s immense, fast, sharp, modern yet classically Saxon. Nigel Glockler’s drumming is thunderous, tight and precise, while the guitars of Tatler and Scarrett interweave like clockwork gears. Biff stalks the stage in black, like a character from one of the darker Hammer House horror films, his long blond hair silvered with age but still iconic, voice ringing out with undimmed power. The song’s refrain, hellfire and damnation! becoming the chant as fists rose high, and fans were once again light in their loafers, or DM’s.
From there, they segued straight into “Power and the Glory.” Few songs in the band’s massive discography, sum up Saxon’s ethos better. Written in 1983 as an anthem of endurance, it has lost none of its potency. The riff is pure British Heavy Metal muscle, and when Biff hit the chorus the entire hall joined him, myself included, who wouldn’t. The voices rising to meet the decades. Brian Tatler’s solos soared effortlessly, his tone sharp yet fluid, and Glockler’s drumming was a masterclass in balance, heavy without overpowering, propulsive yet groove-rich. “Back to the Wall” followed, and while it’s a deeper cut, its inclusion was a treat for long-time fans. The groove was deep, menacing, and the lighting bathed the stage in a myriad of colour as Biff delivered the lyrics with a theatrical snarl. It’s a song that encapsulates Saxon’s working-class defiance, the refusal to bow, the pride in standing tall. “Sacrifice” brought modern heft, drawn from their 2013 record of the same name, it paraded how well Saxon have managed to stay relevant without losing themselves. The chorus crashed in like a wave, Carter’s bass snarling beneath layers of chugging guitars, the crowd moving in a unified surge of joyful release.
“Never Surrender” was next, the spirit of Denim and Leather alive and roaring. If any song defines Saxon’s DNA, it’s this one, all conviction, no compromise. Biff’s voice was fierce, commanding, the crowd responding to every line. It was a communion between band and audience, a shared statement of identity: We will never surrender! Then came “Madame Guillotine”, another cut from Hellfire and Damnation. The song’s historical themes fit perfectly into Saxon’s storytelling niche, the galloping rhythm, the vivid imagery, the drama. Tatler’s guitar sliced through the air with precision, Scarrett providing the harmonic backbone, and Glockler’s rolling toms giving it a realistic cinematic scope. “Heavy Metal Thunder” turned the hall into a celebration of everything the genre stands for. It’s one of those tracks that feels autobiographical for Saxon, a declaration and a promise. The audience, by now drenched in sweat, having shouted every lyric back, and Biff, grinning, conducted them like a general. “Dallas 1PM” closed the first part of the set, its haunting subject matter (the assassination of JFK) contrasting with the energy that went before it. The band handling the subject matter with respect and intensity, the twin guitars creating an almost orchestral effect during the solo section. When it ended, there was a momentary hush, a rare and beautiful pause, before the inevitable eruption of applause.
After a brief break, Saxon returned for the centrepiece of the night: Wheels of Steel in its entirety. From the first revving guitar line of “Motorcycle Man”, it was clear this was going to be special. That opening riff, part rock ’n’ roll, part engine roar, still sounds like freedom. Biff grins as he delivers the first verse, and the entire front half of the floor bounced as one. “Stand Up and Be Counted” keeps the energy rolling, its mid-tempo stomp and call-and-response chorus are made for the live environment. The hall felt alive with that peculiar mix of joy and defiance that only classic, British Heavy Metal can conjure. When “747 (Strangers in the Night)” arrived, the atmosphere hit euphoric heights. The song’s tale of aviation disaster and heroism has always carried cinematic flair, and tonight it soared with the heart of all the now retired jets. The twin guitars shimmered, Glockler’s drums rolled like distant thunder, and the crowd sang every line with devotion. It was one of those perfect concert moments where performer and audience become one being.
The title track “Wheels of Steel” followed, the riff alone could level mountains, and has probably been the cause of many a visit to A&E complaining of a neck that no longer sorts its head. Tatler and Scarrett combined effortlessly to make it thunderous, and Nibb Carter’s bass gave it truly unstoppable momentum. Biff had to let the crowd take the chorus, smiling as the entire hall bellowed Wheels of Steel! at top volume. It was heavy metal church in its purest form. “Freeway Mad” kicked in a boogie-metal groove, that bouncing rhythm pushing the pit into full motion. The band looked utterly at ease, veterans enjoying themselves, their chemistry effortless. “See the Light Shining” provided a mid-set breather, it brought melody and atmosphere its melodic shifts again demonstrating the band’s musicality and how Wheels of Steel was always more than just riffs, it was songcraft. “Street Fighting Gang” returned to full-throttle aggression, two-fisted, no compromises, raw and urgent. Biff prowled the stage, fists pumping, his voice still cutting clean through the mix. “Susie Hold On” came next, melodic, almost tender by Saxon standards, and the crowd swayed, singing every word. Then came the closer “Machine Gun”, and the room exploded. It was chaos in the best sense — the riff relentless, the drums pounding, and the band giving it everything. This catalytic song closed the album run like a point-blank final statement, rapid riffs, hammering drums, a crescendo that left the hall buzzing.
The encore hit like a final victory lap: “Denim and Leather”, “And the Bands Played On”, and then capped it with the immortal “Princess of the Night”. These songs are part of the collective DNA of British heavy metal. “Denim and Leather” is their anthem, a love letter to the fans who’ve been there since day one. A metal memoir of youth and loyalty. “And the Bands Played On”, inspired by their appearance at the first Monsters of Rock festival, remains a rallying cry for unity. And “Princess of the Night”, with its locomotive riff and timeless drive, was the perfect closer. Biff’s voice rang out over the crowd one last time, the lights blazed white, and for a few glorious moments, it was 1981 again. (Yes, I was there, way back then, last century no less,) closed the night with a sense of triumph and communal celebration, leaving no doubt that SAXON still owns the room.
When the final chords eventually fade and the lights lift to reveal a sea of satisfied, sweat-soaked faces, it was hard to shake the feeling that The Halls had just witnessed something historic. This wasn’t a nostalgia tour; it was proof that the spirit of British Heavy Metal still lives and breathes through its elder statesmen. U.D.O. brought German precision and discipline, revisiting Balls to the Wall with reverence but also with new fire. Saxon followed with British grit and grandeur, reaffirming their dominance through Hellfire and Steel and the timeless Wheels of Steel. Both bands played like they still had something to prove, and maybe that’s why they’ve endured, a good place to mention that Biff says the new album is already written and is awaiting the guitars to be laid down, and we’re told that’s happening when this tour concludes.
As we spilled out into the Wolverhampton night, my voices hoarse, my ears ringing, despite ear-plugs, there is a shared sense of satisfaction. Two generations of metal, two nations of influence, united by volume, conviction and authenticity. For anyone who ever felt the thrill of a Marshall stack at full tilt, or found solace in a riff that said more than words ever could, as cliched as it sounds, this was more than just a concert, it was a pilgrimage.
If you were there you’d know. If you weren’t, you missed something solid, loud and unforgettable.
Photo Credit: Manny Manson
