Along with the new nationalist surge, there has been something of a renaissance of neo-Nazi culture in German states like Thuringia, where Rock Gegen Überfremdung is held. Only 3 percent of Germany’s population live in Thuringia; yet by some estimates, it hosts around a third of the country’s far-right concerts. This has thrust local authorities into a pitched battle to clamp down on this flourishing far-right scene, placing Thuringia at the center of a conflict between Germany’s embrace of free expression and the fear that some of these expressions are posing a threat to its democracy. That conflict played out in spectacular fashion last weekend— from a back-and-forth struggle in the courts to street skirmishes and police helicopters in a tiny Thuringian town.

Read: Fighting the far-right and neo-Nazi resurgence in Germany

Like many parts of former East Germany, Thuringia is an economically depressed state. Local leaders say that has made it a fertile recruiting ground for the far right, and something of a hub for neo-Nazi events. There’s also its convenient location, smack in the center of Germany. MOBIT, a watchdog group that monitors the far right, has found that neo-Nazi figures are also buying up cheap property in Thuringia that they then use for rechtsrock (the name used for extreme-right rock) events and lodging. Other local leaders I spoke with complained that for years Thuringia ignored the neo-Nazi scene because its events were small and protected by free-speech laws.

Until recently, Thuringia was hosting around 30 far-right concerts a year, according to MOBIT. By 2017, the state had hosted at least 60; Christoph Lammert, a MOBIT spokesperson, said he expects similar numbers this year. Some events, he told me, take the form of a dozen people with an acoustic guitar gathered at a bar. Others draw a few hundred. But several annual rechtsrock events now draw thousands of people. “The general Nazi scene is still rather small, but they’re breaking more into the general public’s awareness,” Lammert said. “They’re taking some of their arguments into the mainstream.”

2017’s Rock Gegen Überfremdung in Thuringia was organized by Turonen, a controversial network monitored by German intelligence, and brought out more than 6,000 people. Among the bands scheduled to play were Gigi & Die Braunen Stadtmusikanten, or “Gigi and the Brown Town Musicians,” a reference to the Nazi paramilitary. Another was Die Lunikoff Verschwörung, or “The Lunikoff Conspiracy.” Its songs include lyrics like: We love our country, but hate this state. You will see it rise, our seed, and then there is no mercy, our hatred is far too great.

But just a few hours before this year’s Rock Gegen Überfremdung was set to begin, local authorities won a court battle that effectively blocked concertgoers from the site. This marked the second time since August that the state had managed to block a location set up for the event. Yet none of the politicians, protesters, or police milling around the empty concert grounds looked relieved: This time, the rechtsrock organizers had adapted to their struggle with authorities, and had preemptively registered an alternate site.