Thankfully, such wonderings are pushed to the back of the mind later in the day by the triumphant return of Limp Bizkit (4/5). A sea of raised fists (and a fair few red baseball caps) greet the inspired opening salvo of ‘Break Stuff’, and the ensuing performance sees a good portion of metal fans losing the inhibitions picked up in the last few years and reliving their early teens in mass singalongs to ‘Rollin’’ and ‘My Generation.’ Many of those who refuse to stop pretending to hate Limp Bizkit can be found at the Tuborg stage, where the reunited Voivod (4/5) are blowing up some heads with their classic ‘80s thrash, vocalist Snake twitching and hollering like a possessed, leather-clad preacher. The permed, greasy heads in the crowd are then replaced by backcombed, dyed-black bonces as the thrash switches to glam with the arrival of bubblegum punks Backyard Babies (3/5), whose shiny but largely uninspiring tunes do little to please anyone but the Nikki Sixx lookalikes and glitter-encrusted girls dotted through the crowd.

Soon after, the real Mr. Sixx takes to the second stage with Mötley Crüe (2/5), who dish out the usual glam metal favourites and a couple of new offerings from last year’s ‘Saints Of Los Angeles.’ Sadly, inexplicably long gaps between songs, Vince Neil’s strained vocals and Tommy Lee’s workmanlike stage banter (the same used last time the Crüe played Download) all result in a sloppy, uninteresting performance. Guitarist Mick Mars is capable within the studio-polished refrains of the band’s songs, but admittedly quite unimpressive when left to his own devices (an annoyingly harmonic-filled rendition of Hendrix’s ‘Voodoo Chile’ quickly becoming tedious). The fearsome L.A. four are capable of so much better, and as the ending notes of ‘Home Sweet Home’ ring into the night air, one cannot help but feel slightly cheated.

Several thousand Crüeheads then leave for the alcohol-fuelled fun and games of the campsites, while some linger to see Faith No More’s (3/5) first show in eleven years (apart from the warm-up one they did in Brixton two nights before). For those at the front, it is a chance to crush into and fall over each other through the drilling chords of ‘From Out Of Nowhere’ and shout in unison to ‘We Care A Lot,’ but for (arguably many more) others it is simply a chance to see ‘that band’ play ‘that song’ (1990’s ‘Epic’ – which they do). The masses starting to leave the arena around this time suggest that Faith No More may not be the most dependable headliners for an event like this – perhaps too cult for many – but for those who get it, it’s nothing less than a very promising start to the biggest set of dates in the rock calendar.