“Misunderstood books, power over wisdom, they’ve poisoned the roots.“
Crown Magnetar
Crown Magnetar have been handed a thankless task in starting the show only minutes after doors opening, with the crowd still streaming in they’re hit with technical problems that render the whole band inaudible behind a wall of blistering feedback. This should have been a show ruining start, but they take in their stride effortlessly – with the crowd in they can finally unleash their particularly brutal take on old school deathcore, London is here to dance and Crown Magnetar are here to party, their energy is infectious, opening up the first pits of the night with a speed and ferocity that washes the dud start away completely.
Mugshot
Mugshot come out of the gate quite literally running, hurling themselves around the stage and playing their caustic brand of metalcore at an absolutely breakneck pace – it’s a non-stop barrage of chugs and panic chords that don’t let up for an instant. Not content with keeping up their own impressive cardio routine, frontman Ringo Waterman has security earning every penny of their paychecks, sending waves of surfers over the barrier. Pouring sweat and gasping for breath in snatched moments between songs, their urgency and sincerity is impossible to fake, this is an energy that cannot fail to win you over.
Signs Of The Swarm
After dropping two of the best deathcore albums of the last decade back to back, gathering features from genre royalty and fresh off the back of a truly relentless touring schedule, Signs of The Swarm are as tight a unit as it’s possible to be. Devoid of any pretension they are simply crushingly heavy, performing with an entirely justified sense of confidence that comes close to feeling truly effortless, as effortless as a man screaming and contorting himself like a wounded animal can be seem at least. Frontman David Simonich sounds like a man possessed by some truly foul spirits, one of the precious few voices that can match the polish of their studio performances live. Guttural growls and relentless breakdowns are delivered with a mechanical precision that leaves nothing to be desired.
Chelsea Grin
Veterans of nearly two decades of deathcore’s existence, Chelsea Grin are one of few bands to have maintained their popularity through the peaks and troughs of its cultural relevance. Surviving the fickle tastes of fans and press they can draw on a catalogue that dates back to the early days of the tightly knit MySpace scene, through to the genre’s current era of unprecedented critical and commercial success. Cuts like “Recreant” and “Cheyne Stokes” sound every bit as brutal as they did bursting into chatrooms almost 20 years ago, managing to blend seamlessly into newer material, touching on each album and era between then and the present it’s easy to see how they’re able to pull together a crowd that mixes everyone from battle-jacket metalheads and elder emos to TikTok scene kids and trench coat goths in a pure appreciation of heavy for the sake of heavy.
