After the glitter-streaked joy of Chappell Roan, the nostalgic roar of Bloc Party, a visual spectacle for the senses with Hozier, and then beer-soaked carnage of The Chats, Leeds Festival rolled into its third and final day with no signs of slowing down.
By Graeme Smith
Saturday had been a riot of chaos and catharsis, leaving the fields buzzing long into the night.
Waking up on Sunday, the campsite was bleary-eyed but buzzing, a mix of hangovers and anticipation. The talk over breakfast burritos and £8 pints was all about the big names still to come: Limp Bizkit’s nu-metal throwback, Becky Hill’s powerhouse vocals, and Bring Me The Horizon’s headline set that promised to be nothing short of explosive.
The Lambrini Girls opened the Main Stage with the kind of fire most bands spend entire careers trying to muster. Their raw punk energy ripped through the morning air, blasting away any sleep still clinging to the crowd. Charging through songs that snarled with rage and wit, they wasted no time in whipping up a pit, bodies colliding as chants rose back to the stage. It felt bracing and brash, a reminder that punk’s bite is alive and thriving on big festival stages. The Lambrini Girls didn’t just wake up the field—they shook it awake.
Over at the BBC Introducing Stage, KEO brought something entirely different but no less captivating. Their set was slick and shimmering, blending soulful vocals with powerful indie rock vibes that pulled people in off the paths. There’s always a magic in stumbling across a BBC Introducing set that feels like a secret, and KEO had that spark in spades, sending ripples of movement across the rapidly growing crowd. Plenty of Wunderhorse T-Shirts here and I’m not surprised as KEO prove to be a band heading in the same direction. Another one of those “I was there early” moments that fans will brag about down the line.
Back in the Festival Republic tent, VLURE turned atmosphere into an art form. Their sound—dark, industrial, yet soaring—wrapped the audience in a storm of synths and cathartic vocals. It was sweaty, charged, almost spiritual at times. The frontman’s intensity bordered on theatrical, eyes locked on the crowd as though daring us to look away. When they launched into Shattered Faith, the tent shook, a sea of fists punching in time with every thundering beat. It was immersive and relentless, a performance that felt like it left a mark long after the last note.
By the afternoon, the Chevron Stage filled for Wunderhorse. Brooding and understated at first, their set built with a slow-burning intensity that rewarded patience. Tracks like Leader of the Pack and Teal unfurled across the field, the guitars sharp but melancholy, the vocals aching with a quiet power. It was music that felt built for a festival Sunday: reflective, textured, something to sink into before the storm of headliners still to come. By the time they finished, the crowd stood hushed and grinning, a little stunned at just how affecting it had been.
Then came the chaos everyone had been waiting for: Limp Bizkit on the Main Stage. Fred Durst emerged in full grey bearded character, baseball cap and all, leading the band into a nostalgia-drenched romp that was part comedy, part genuine thrill. Rollin’ and My Generation hit with the force of a freight train, the crowd chanting every word like it was 2001 all over again. We were partying like it was 1999 and some fun AI photos of Oasis, Billie Eilish and even Oli Sykes with thumbs up while listening to Limp Bizkit were displayed. Pints flew through the air, dust rose in clouds, and the field felt like a giant nu-metal party. There was tongue-in-cheek humour in every move, but also a reminder of just how many hits Limp Bizkit still have in their arsenal. By the end, thousands of us were sweaty, hoarse, and grinning. That’s my generation’s headliners for the day.
Over on the Chevron, Becky Hill offered a completely different kind of release. Her voice—powerful, clear, and endlessly dynamic—soared above the late-afternoon crowd. Each track sounded like it was built for a festival, dance hooks just tailor-made for singalongs. Remember and My Heart Goes (La Di Da) turned the field into a euphoric dancefloor, strangers linking arms and shouting the choruses skyward. What impressed most wasn’t just her vocal chops, but her command of the stage—confident, playful, feeding off the energy and giving it back tenfold. If Limp Bizkit had brought the chaos, Becky Hill brought the uplift.
As the sun began to dip, anticipation built for the weekend’s big finale: Bring Me The Horizon. The Main Stage swelled to bursting, every inch of grass packed with fans ready for the spectacle. And spectacle it was. Explosions of pyrotechnics lit the night sky as Oli Sykes stormed out, the band launching into DArkSide with ferocity. The set was a masterclass in dynamics—moments of crushing heaviness giving way to soaring choruses that carried across the park. Shadow Moses had the crowd screaming “This is Sempiternal!” in unison, while newer tracks hit just as hard, proving the band’s evolution hasn’t dimmed their bite. Even a horrendous cover of Oasis Wonderwall went down well tonight.
[Bring Me The Horizon Photos By David Pickles]
Oli spent much of the set reaching out to the crowd, urging pits to open, demanding screams louder, orchestrating chaos like a ringmaster. And when the encore of Doomed, Drown and Throne finally hit, it felt like every single person in Bramham Park was singing at once, thousands of voices colliding under the fireworks. It wasn’t just a headline set—it was a coronation, a declaration that Sheffield’s Bring Me The Horizon are one of the biggest rock bands in Europe right now, and Leeds was their Yorkshire kingdom for the night.
As the final fireworks faded and people began trudging back through the dust and discarded cups, the festival’s story felt complete. Day One had been about discovery and sunshine singalongs, Day Two about chaos, glitter, and catharsis, and Day Three about spectacle and release. From Cliffords’ first steps on the BBC Introducing Stage to Bring Me The Horizon’s almighty closing roar, Leeds 2025 delivered on every front: music for the heart, for the voice, for the pit. No mud, no let-up, no disappointment—just a weekend that will live long in the memory.