Secret Solstice festival review: Slayer say 'hello' and 'goodbye' to Iceland with their thrilling headline performance

Beyond the artists scheduled to play, few festivals provide a truly unique experience; Iceland’s Secret Solstice boasts at least five. For this is an event not simply defined by who’s playing – although the line up is as diverse as it is impressive – but by the country as a whole; the people, the landscape, and the culture.

Taking place over the summer equinox means the sun never sets, occasionally breaking through the low lying clouds and providing pools of fleeting warmth for midnight walks. One could, of course, simply enjoy the delights of Reykjavík and the four days of music, but there’s so much more on offer. Aside from the usual whale tours and lagoon trips, three official excursions have been organised; a geothermal pool party, a rave inside an actual glacier, and a party in a 5,200-year-old lava tunnel.

The first sees iconic DJs Lee Burridge and YokoO entertain a crowd enjoying the warm springs at Hreppslaug, Skorradalur, guests hopping between three hot tubs and a 10-meter pool, but it’s the second trip that’s truly spectacular. Billed as “the world’s only party inside a glacier”, we’re bussed up to a series of tunnels dug high on Langjökull, a somewhat epic journey in itself. Stepping out onto the ice feels like arriving on top of the world: the wind whips mercilessly at your face, and visibility is down to a few metres.

Inside the tunnels it’s not much warmer, but the eerie blue LEDS embedded everywhere and strange acoustics make it feel like you’re entering some alien lair. The biggest space has been set up for minimalist techno maestro Dubfire, who delivers two hours of restrained, downtempo beats, but there’s also a bar and even a chapel. Many have brought glow sticks, and dance away in small groups; others simply revel at the madness of it all, sipping on drinks, wide-eyed with glee. By the end even Dubfire looks somewhat giddy, a sly grin plastered across his face.

As for the festival proper, eclectic doesn’t even come close to describing the dizzying array of music on offer. The bulk of the programme naturally focuses on Icelandic acts – from the down’n’dirty hip hop of Reykjavíkurdætur to the fierce sonic assault of “Iceland’s loudest band” Pink Street Boys – but the main draw is a series of international stars spanning vastly different genres.

Steve Aoki brings the party hits to a sea of teenagers, currying favour with the locals by donning an Iceland football top. Of course, there’s the famous cake and numerous other antics, but he spends so much time dancing on top of his table and wandering around the front of the stage, you really do wonder who’s actually controlling the music.

Later on, the kids are joined by their parents, everyone singing all the words to Bonnie Tyler’s feel good, career-spanning set. Her band stomp through songs, with Tyler providing some witty, self-deprecating banter; her voice may be a little grittier than normal, but it’s still a thrill to hear ‘Total Eclipse Of The Heart’ and a full throttle ‘Holding On For A Hero’ wow the masses.

There’s plenty of hip hop too, and while J Hus has to unexpectedly cancel, Friday is dominated by the one-two punch of GoldLink and Gucci Mane. The former whips the crowd into a frenzy, starting mosh pits and delivering his trademark future bounce sound, before the latter arrives thirty minutes late and disappoints with an unfocussed set that lacks any spark or swagger; at times, it’s left to his hype man to holler “Make some noise!” or simply “Gucci!” over and over.

Stormzy fares far better, despite having to contend with an actual storm. The pyrotechnic effects that adorn the front of the stage are matched by the fire in his performance that even the driving rain and bitter wind can’t extinguish. ‘Scary’ and ‘Big For Your Boots’ bristle with menace and brio, but he also shows his softer side, bringing a fan on stage to rap J Hus’ part in ‘Bad Boys’. Closing with ‘Shut Up’ brings mayhem and delirium, mud and limbs flying everywhere as the kids bounce through the grime anthem.

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But it’s a group of retiring legends that provide the weekend’s defining set. “This is our first time playing in Iceland,” announces Slayer frontman Tom Araya. “Unfortunately, it will also be our last.” Calling it a day after 37 years, they’ve lost none of their vim or power; a hit-laden set is rapturously received as they rip through hallowed anthems like ‘Mandatory Suicide’ and ‘Angel Of Death’ with thrilling intensity. Perhaps there’s something in Viking blood that attracts young and old to such visceral, rampaging music, but it’s apt that out here, on an island steeped in myths and folklore, Slayer resonate more than most.