Live Review: ArcTanGent 2026 – Friday
21st August 2026
Words: Matt Noble
Photos: Rich Price
The ungodly hour of 11 in the morning didn’t deter Worn Out from rousing an impressive turnout to fill the PX3 tent for some no-nonsense metallic hardcore. Going from angular, jagged riffs to punishing breakdowns and grooves, they snap everyone’s necks together in unison and effortlessly get a vicious pit going front and centre. There is a real honesty and earnestness to their energy. Compared to some of their peers in hardcore, the instrumental sound is very much organic and does not rely on backing tracks or pre-recorded layers. This is the sound of the blood, sweat and beers of a rock band. The impassioned vocal performance and unapologetic political message, to put it simply, feels real. During their set, Worn Out brought out a Palestine flag mid-set with sincerity, too, earning a huge roar of approval. There is a nice mix of old and new in their influences, and songs from their upcoming album that are performed go down an absolute storm. I’ve done worse things with my time shortly after eating breakfast. This was superb.
Shortly after, Rugby quartet Conjurer take to the main stage to showcase last year’s ‘Unself’ to Arctangent for the first time. Fernhill Farm regulars, their confident and assured performance goes down a storm. As Conor throws himself around front and centre with his trademark windmill, Brady and Dani’s vicious dual vocals lead the charge with power and emotion. One of contemporary metal’s most consistent guitar duos, they don’t put a foot wrong while drummer Noah handles each shift in tempo and time with fluidity and real class. Dani gives a heartfelt speech before leading into ‘Let Us Live’, rousing cheers and offering a place to belong for many in the audience. The song itself has moments of melodic vocals to inject real colour and contrast to the otherwise bludgeoning screams.
The songs from Conjurer’s new(ish) record really go in hard with crushing dissonant breakdowns that are woven in around the post-sludge riff magic they’re best known for, as well as the moments of calm in the softer breaks. Tied into a pulsing visual backdrop, Conjurer present professionally for a stage show that’s a notch above many of their peers. There’s something seriously striking about the view of four silhouettes against the eerie yet vibrant backdrop. Towards the end, they close with the one-two of ‘Choke’ and ‘Retch’ from 2018’s ‘Mire’ to the delight of the old faithful. The hardcore blast of ‘Retch’ is, in particular, a hell of a statement to end a setlist. Igniting the pits one last time at Fernhill Farm, these grounds will miss this band as much as vice versa.
The fearsomely heavy Kulk, a power duo from East Anglia, could be found making more noise than two individuals have any right to on the PX3 Stage around teatime. With heaviness and sheer volume you can feel in your teeth, their titanic sludgy grooves dominate the tent. The Buzz Osbourne blueprint can be found in many of the riffs, while the snare booms out powerfully, as if to signal the end of the world. They bring a bit of a punk ethos with them into the songs, though the jaunty drum patterns and vicious vocal bellowing give them their own flavour. A guest appearance from Hannah of the band Ian sees a cello added in for the final song, which is dedicated to a friend of the band who had taken their own life. She adds a haunting ambience to Kulk’s emotionally driven closer, sitting nicely in the mix, present but not overbearingly so. Since the festival took place, Kulk released ‘Choosing to Die’ on Church Road Records. I’m sure many in the tent that day have their copy already.
Pennsylvanian shoegazers Nothing draw a large crowd even for their soundcheck. A band I knew nothing (haha) about before the festival, they are six months into the ‘A Short History of Decay’ album cycle, from which the first few songs of the soaring set are taken. Easing in with the soft, reverb-y chords and gentle vocal line of ‘Purple Strings’, Nothing build dreamy vocal harmonies and constantly create layers, utilising three guitars along with the traditional bass and drums setup. It’s a mellow opening song, but Nothing sound huge when they turn up to eleven as the set continues. The band school the tent on atmosphere and ambience, each note, harmony and texture carefully considered. You can see the way they feel the music onstage, as each member moves around in their own way, with no need for choreographed stage moves, and their receptive audience groove back in response. It’s definitely a festival performance as a whole, and the band interact well with the crowd, starting a ‘free Palestine’ chant during one of their songs, which goes down as popularly as you’d expect. For me, this performance is a gift from the festival gods, giving me a band that I was completely unfamiliar with that I’ll certainly be diving into and keeping tabs on.
Perturbator turn the big tent into a goth rave for their special guest slot on the main stage. The impressive light show and fun yet dark electronic vibe makes for a seriously memorable performance. Be under no illusions, a slot this high up is massively earned by Perturbator, as the tent overflows into the rest of the field. Inside, heads move, bodies dance and small clouds of cigarette smoke drift up to the top as the crowd go feral. Balloons are bounced around at the front, and overall, it’s nothing less than a massive party. Isn’t this what festivals are all about, really? The intense percussion gives the set enough “heavy” not to feel totally out of place, but with many Arctangent acts suiting standing around swaying or being drowned in traditional heaviness, a completely different vibe is welcome at this point. A great booking by the organisers. You can’t see too much on stage, but the silhouette of James Kent looks like he’s having just as much of a blast as the rest of us.
The godfathers of grind delivered a brutal headlining set on the Yohkai stage. Crowd surfers, rabid mosh pits and a sea of metal horns filled out the tent for Napalm Death’s maiden Arctangent appearance, with plenty watching from outside. They picked out a couple of their more post-punk-tinged numbers for today’s setlist, such as 2020’s ‘Amoral’, maybe to try to fit in with the overall vibe of the festival. Napalm Death have never been a one-dimensional act, and cover plenty of ground and many of their own eras today. But there’s enough frantic, lightning fast classics that you’d expect from the band to keep everyone happy, such as ‘Scum’, ‘Suffer The Children’ and of course ‘You Suffer’, which the audience cheer for longer than the runtime of the song itself, a rare thing. Barney Greenway is a ball of energy fronting the band during the songs, and as witty as ever on the mic between them. Danny Herrera is also in particularly fine form on the drum throne. But there’s always something a bit special about witnessing Napalm Death living, breathing, and making their ‘horrible f*cking noise’, as Barney quips with a grin. There’s nothing quite like screaming along to ‘Nazi Punks F*ck Off’ in a festival field on a Friday night, either.
A whole fifteen minutes before Primus’ set time, shouts of ‘Primus sucks!’ erupt through the tent, already completely packed to its rafters to an almost uncomfortable level. But what else would you expect when they’d not played in the UK for almost a decade? When the lights finally go down, the response is absolutely massive, arguably the biggest of the weekend. It’s time. Primus had been tipped as an ideal Arctangent headliner for years on online forums and amongst discussions in festival camps alike. It really feels like Arctangent had pulled a special booking out the bag for our final jaunt to Fernhill Farm.
Opening with ‘Those Damned Blue-Collar Tweekers’ from the classic ‘Sailing the Seas of Cheese’ record, the crowd moves and grooves away to the band’s flowing rhythm, singing along with a sea of phones popping up for the chance to get Claypool and co into a few thousand camera rolls. John Hoffman delivers an absolute ripper of a drum solo during ‘Duchess and the Proverbial Mind Spread’, and Les’s first bass solo of the night goes down an absolute storm. But Larry LaLonde also deserves a lot of credit for faithfully laying down his guitar parts, never taking the spotlight – unusually for the role of a guitarist – but always delivering character and the experimentation that’s so central to the musical foundations of Primus.
‘I have no idea where I am’, admits Les after a few songs. It’s the final show of their European tour, and you’d forgive him for not knowing this corner of Somerset, especially on a night like tonight where the full extent of his mad scientist-like musical genius is on show. It’s rare to find someone so gifted on their instrument who can also make his crowd sing, clap and dance, while also letting his silly sense of humour shine. He jokes that ‘Shake Hands With Beef’ isn’t one for the vegetarians, and introduces ‘Wynona’s Big Brown Beaver’ as being about animals with a wry grin. But he also quotes The Star-Spangled Banner during a bass solo, and brings out an upright bass mid-set as well, largely allowing the music to do the talking. You’ll find this nowhere else.
A lot of bands playing this weekend bring a celestial vibe to their tent, or something heavy, or something that pulls at the heartstrings. Primus frankly bring something completely surreal, but that doesn’t stop a completely feral crowd response. The closing suckerpunch of ‘My Name Is Mud’ into ‘Jerry Was A Race Car Driver’ raises the atmosphere past the tipping point. If an entire tent dancing away isn’t your idea of what a proper festival headline set can be about, what is?
Photo credits: Rich Price
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