By George Pirounakis
I never set out to be a merch guy. I wasn’t that scene kid slinging bootlegs outside venues or selling shirts in high school. I didn’t care about clout, I didn’t care about backstage. I just wanted to be close to the music. [I] started by producing merch for bands. Then promoting shows. Then, one day, someone trusted me on the road. The rest is chaos.
But here’s the real start. The reason I got into this life? Motörhead. Wacken Open Air. Every fucking summer. Like clockwork.
2004: First Wacken. Instant addiction. No pass. No guestlist. No contact. Just a kid with a tent, a backpack, and one mission: see Motörhead. The only Wackens I ever skipped? 2005 and 2007 – because Lemmy wasn’t playing. That’s how deep it was.
From 2008 on, I didn’t even check lineups anymore. Wacken wasn’t a festival – it was my yearly reset button. My escape. My fuel. I built friendships there that still stand. I learned what real production looks like. What it takes to run something big, clean, and loud.
And I saw what this scene can be – when it’s not run by clueless promoters, washed-up power trippers, or copy-paste PR zombies.
Wacken made me believe I could build something too… Wacken trained me for tour life.
Every summer felt like a bootcamp I didn’t know I signed up for:
- Sleeping on gravel? That’s tour life.
- 20km a day between camp, toilets, merch, and main stage? That’s venue-to-venue grind.
- Losing your people, improvising food, duct-taping shit to survive? That’s production.
And while others were wasted in front of the beer tent, I was observing. Crew. Stage ops. Merch. Logistics. Watching how the machine runs.
I had the chance to meet Thomas Jensen a few times — super chill, humble guy. But let’s not get it twisted: Wacken wasn’t a one-man job. Holger Hübner deserves just as much credit.
Together, those two built the greatest metal festival in the world. From a tiny village. With zero corporate bullshit and no one believing it would work.
That’s not business — that’s vision. That’s conviction. That’s the DIY dream scaled to the stratosphere.
Wacken raised the bar. Motörhead taught me endurance. Motörhead taught me how to live broke, loud, and proud.
They didn’t teach me marketing. They taught me drive.
I followed them across countries. Missed classes and life moments. Slept in terminals. Burned paychecks for tickets and trains.
And you know what? That was the best prep for tour life.
No glam. Just repetition, volume – and zero bullshit.
So when I finally got on tour buses for real, I didn’t need “adjusting.”
Twenty shows in a row? Done that.
No sleep, cold load-in, no soundcheck? Whatever.
Lemmy wouldn’t whine.
You become what you chase. And I chased the loudest band on earth.
2022: Full Fucking Circle
The last time I went to Wacken was 2022 (unfortunately).
But this time, I was working it. Tour manager for Thundermother, on the bill. Same fields. Same dust. Same energy. But now I was part of the system, not just a kid in the pit. And it hit me hard.
I stood backstage, sunburnt and filthy, and all I could think was: “fuck”. Because I used to dream about being part of this circus – and then I was moving piece in its engine.
Thank You Lemmy. Thank You Wacken.
For the blueprint. For the people. For the grind. You shaped how I work, how I live, and how I deal with the pressure.
If it wasn’t for Motörhead and Wacken, I’d probably be in an office somewhere, wishing I wasn’t.
- George Pirounakis is a merchandise and tour manager based in Thessaloniki, Greece. He is co-founder of OneTwoSix Hardcore Clothing.