<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"><channel><title>Blastfest on vo.rs</title><link>https://vo.rs/tags/blastfest/</link><description>Recent content in Blastfest on vo.rs</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en</language><copyright>This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.</copyright><lastBuildDate>Thu, 08 May 2025 09:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://vo.rs/tags/blastfest/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Karmøygeddon and Blastfest: Norway's Small Metal Gatherings</title><link>https://vo.rs/encore/karmoygeddon-blastfest/</link><pubDate>Thu, 08 May 2025 09:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>https://vo.rs/encore/karmoygeddon-blastfest/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Norway&amp;rsquo;s reputation in metal is built on the extreme, the frozen and the notorious, but the country&amp;rsquo;s festival culture is mostly a story of small, stubborn, community-scale gatherings run by people who love the music more than they love money. Two of them make an instructive pair: Karmøygeddon, a survivor that has run for two decades on a small island off the west coast, and Blastfest, a Bergen festival that arrived with real ambition, made a genuine mark, and then collapsed in three years. One is a lesson in staying small on purpose. The other is a cautionary tale about the gap between ambition and arithmetic.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>