Photo by: Brendan Shea

There’s a kind of electricity that only hits in Grand Rapids once a year. Not the crackle of lightning — but the guttural scream of a vocalist mid-breakdown, the tremor of bass under your boots, and the roar of a crowd that’s waited all year for this.

Upheaval Festival 2025 is back. And if you know, you know.

On July 18–19, Belknap Park becomes sacred ground — where sweat meets distortion, and strangers become family in the pit, and where the music doesn’t just echo, it possesses. This isn’t just a festival — it’s a homecoming for the heavy-hearted.

What makes Upheaval different isn’t just the lineup (though we’ll get to that). It’s the people. The fans here don’t come just to listen — they come to feel. From the ones who lined up before sunrise in battle vests and blackout boots, to the teens wide-eyed at their first real scream, every person here brings a piece of themselves to the field. You see stories in the tattoos, resilience in the mosh, and healing in the way thousands scream the same lyrics in unison. You don’t have to be the loudest in the pit to belong here, but by the end of the weekend, you’ll be part of it.

Upheaval isn’t just another festival in Michigan—it’s our metal moment. It’s built around fans who don’t just attend; they inhabit the music. Whether you’re there for the legends like Zombie and FIR, or you’re catching underground acts sunrise to sunset, everyone feels the charge. You might come for the nostalgia, stay for the new favorites, and leave with a bruised‑but‑blissful memory etched into Grand Rapids’ summer soundtrack.

With their permission, I spoke with two fans from last year’s festival to show just how deeply this scene runs. These aren’t just music lovers, they’re living proof of why Upheaval matters.

Anonymous, – Kalamazoo, MI

“I bring my daughter every year. It’s tradition now.”

She was 12 the first time I brought her. She wore black eyeliner for the first time and jumped into the pit without hesitation. This year, she’s 15 and already knows more underground bands than I do. Watching her headbang with a bunch of strangers and just be herself? It means everything. Upheaval gave her confidence. It gave me hope.

Anonymous, Traverse City, MI

“Last year was the first time I felt like I belonged somewhere.”

I was going through the worst year of my life. Breakup. Job loss. Anxiety is through the roof. But then I came to Upheaval with my cousin, and halfway through Bad Omens’ set, I just started crying — like sobbing. And nobody looked at me weird. This stranger in the pit just held my hand during “Just Pretend.” I’ve been counting down the days ever since.

Two stories. A thousand unspoken ones behind them. Because when the music hits, we don’t just hear it. We heal with it.

What keeps Upheaval alive isn’t just the headliners—it’s the crowd. From the seasoned metalheads test-driving the pit to weekend festival‑first timers discovering that sweet spot between stage and beer tent, there’s a real electricity in the air. Fans swap band tees like collector cards; every new riff sparks a surge—even casual visitors end up headbanging. It’s a melting pot of devotion: veterans, newbies, and even parents bringing along kids and teens who already come with their own merch and love for it all. With the heat, hill-climbing between stages, and beer lines that are part of the ritual, just bring water in hand and patience in spades, and you will be set.

The lineup consists of

Day 1 – July 18: Rob Zombie, Architects, The Plot In You, Crossfade, Taproot, Scene Queen, The Funeral Portrait, Silent Theory — and more artists you’ll leave obsessed with.

Day 2 – July 19: Falling In Reverse (say what you want, Ronnie Radke owns a stage), Wage War, Yelawolf, Vended, Bodysnatcher, Dead Poet Society, FiveByFive, Living Dead Girl, Our Vices — bringing chaos to every corner of the park

Even if some folks doubted the Saturday roster, the truth is: Upheaval has always been about discovery. And in those earlier slots? That’s where the sparks start flying.

You’ll climb hills with strangers and leave with new friends. You’ll lose your voice. You’ll probably cry during a chorus that hits way too close. You’ll get knocked down in the pit, and five people will pick you back up. Between sets, you’ll hear stories from veterans who’ve survived life’s darkest corners — and this music? It saved them. Maybe it saved you, too. Upheaval isn’t just a lineup — it’s a lifeline. A release. A place where chaos becomes comfort, and catharsis is loud enough to shake the skyline.