Live Review: Soundwave Festival

For those who get through the hour-long queue in time to catch Amon Amarth, their set is an epic reward. The Swedish death metal band – often referred to as Viking metal – arrive on stage with nothing less than an enormous Viking ship with a detailed dragonhead rising into the sky. The ship doubles as Fredrik Anderson's drum riser and is framed by the artwork of their latest album, Deceiver Of The Gods depicting Ragnarok, the Viking apocalypse. Fittingly, the first day of the apocalypse according to Norse mythology lines up with today's Soundwave.

Mushroomhead besmirch the stage with matching camo pants and masks that can't go near the quality of Slipknot's. Jeffrey Nothing, one of three vocalists, contributes little to their first Australian performance, not moving from his position in front of the drum kit. Though his blood-splattered outfit, likened to a butchers apron, does add a change to the '90s inspired get-up on stage. Drummer Skinny's other half Jackie Laponza joins Mushroomhead for new song We Are The Truth, bringing hip hop to their industrial metal mash up.

We're pretty spoilt being able to see an arena-filling band like Biffy Clyro before lunch, and the shirtless Scots reward us early risers with a set fit for Wembley. Simon Neil wields his axe masterfully, letting his fingers dance through the intricacies of Sounds Like Balloons, and thrashes about like an asylum patient during That Golden Rule. By the end of closer Mountains, you feel like you could climb them.

Defiler, not to be confused with The Defiled also playing Soundwave this year, play their not so unique deathcore to a scarce crowd. Though it is nothing out of the ordinary they are tight and they are definitely heavy. To the band's misfortune their set is riddled with technical issues, dragging out the time in between songs, resulting in a lack of flow and a crowd losing interest. Claim-to-fame track Cryomancer is played last before stopping abruptly because the fans aren't screaming the words back quite loud enough.

Pennsylvanian quintet August Burns Red are one of the first to front the early turnout in the new upstairs stage. Their Christian subtexts hold no sway in the brutal music that spews forth, made more potent by the dim stadium-feel and the punters squeezed within. Jake Luhrs and bassist Dustin Davidson growl their way through Whitewashed and Fault Line, and it's clear the sound needs to be tweaked to a less overblown level, but they're a worthy first cab off the rank.

Is Creed still a thing? According to the overwrought padded out Triple M pap Alter Bridge offer, this is still rock'n'roll. It isn't though. Emotive screeches, emotive murmurs, riffs cribbed from the worst Poison offcuts, slow motion hand movements… but the real travesty? Creed was better. Generic bullshit just got its latest poster child.

British foursome Tesseract are criminally early in the order of events but a good smattering are here to witness the prog metal outfit do justice to the distorted djent style. Former leading man Daniel Tompkins left his brute vocals behind on the group's first album One, but that hasn't stopped new-ish singer Ashe O'Hara's from taking Deception plus One Mind – Nocturne from 2013's Altered State to a whole new level of complex melodic glory. A very underrated bunch of gents.

You can't help but get your skank on to the ska-leaning punk of Less Than Jake, and the circle pit is in full swing from the outset. Chris DeMakes and Roger Manganelli work the tent with their back and forwards shit talk, and fan faves like History Of A Boring Town and All My Best Friends Are Metalheads go down a treat. There's even a fucking conga line!

Impatience surges when the stage adjacent to Black Dahlia Murder encourages an encore that ends up running ten minutes over their allotted time. Dahlia fans rage, giving Five Finger Death Punch their middle fingers until BDM storm on and deliver their unrelenting death metal. Vocalist Trevor Strnad's vocal range is brilliant as he hits brutal lows and screechy highs backed by Alan Cassidy slaying on drums. Contrasted with the vibe of the music, Strnad's face is never without a smile, particularly as he introduces In Hell Is Where She Waits For Me as being a song “about God not being real”.

Sweden's Graveyard bring their old rock'n'roll out for an early afternoon airing, and they do so with feeling. A better place on the bill may have given them the quality of sound that their music deserves, but they don't let that stop them from delivering a killer set. And yeah, it's a little too short, but goddamn it's sweet. 

Yorkshire metalcore five-piece Asking Alexandria don't waste time getting fans jumping and stomping, making for sweaty times indeed. They're an interesting combination of talents to behold; vocalist Danny Worsnop is a laddish gent, cajoling the crowd as he whips through furious howls in Killing You, Run Free and The Death Of Me from last year's From Death To Destiny. It's pleasing to hear, and feel, some heart-rattling bass and a tight-knit galloping thump from the rest across their complex noodling.

Is Bon Jovi still a thing? Probably. But Richie Sambora as his own thing – now that's something. His band is half his age and tick off a lot of demographics, but no one cares. It's all about the Sambora factor. The songs aren't great, but his axe wielding is. Thirty minutes of guitar solo would have been better. Dead Or Alive and Livin On A Prayer get wheeled out – you'd think this was pandering to the crowd, and you'd be right.

Things take a turn for the serious when Alkaline Trio step up to the plate, and they make no apologies with barnstorming opener Time To Waste. Their punk is to the point, but when you break it down to its individual elements the players are absolute dynamite. Bassist Dan Andriano takes vocal leads for Every Thug Needs A Lady and you have to raise a fist.

Thrash lords Testament look evil as hell on this dim, gloomy afternoon with skulls on pentagrams spitting smoke and a fierce looking backdrop. More importantly, they sound just as forboding and far more aggressive; the double kick of Gene Hoglan thunders through our bodies, the shredding of Alex Skolnick is as impressive as expected and Chuck Billy roars through the set, sounding particularly devastating on More Than Meets The Eye. Another great example of old school thrash still kicking serious arse in the modern day.

Nostalghia is quite an odd selection for Soundwave being an avant-garde duo often described as post-apocalyptic, gypsy- punk. The gypsy punk category is pretty off the deep-end though as Ciscandra Nostalghia, the beauty who writes the lyrics and fronts Nostalghia, resembles more of a goth Bjork. Roy Gnan, percussionist and other half of Nostalghia, along with Cellist Adele Stein, joins with Ciscandra on stage to create a haunting and emotional set. Cool For Chaos is the standout song with jolting piano notes and high pitched screams.

New Orleans alt-rockers Mutemath burst onto the stage with lunatic frenzy, and being one of the few funkier rock acts of the day they're a welcome change of pace. Singer Paul Meany plunges the four-piece into a set canvassing an assortment of old and new including Armistice's Spotlight, right through to Reset, leaving Prytania and Blood Pressure to represent the newbies. Allies is bizarrely overlooked and there's an air of being duped left hanging when they make their goodbyes.

Kentucky based Coliseum play on a stage plagued with poor attendance. Delivering their punk/hard rock effortlessly, Coliseum sure do like a bit of repetition. Guitarist and vocalist Ryan Patterson delivers his southern licks and repeating vocal lines to a scattered crowd who don't seem very moved by the monotony.

Trash Talk play for 20 minutes: they're aggressive, they're loud and they incite absolute mayhem. Vocalist Lee Spielman spends most of the set in the crowd, before telling the masses to get on stage and join the band. It's absolute bedlam but it's great fun. Fun as it is though, you can't help but wish that, at times, they'd take the songs a little more seriously and deliver something a little closer to what we've heard on record.

It's a sad moment for Stone Temple Pilots fans, but a celebratory moment for some as their replacement The Living End take to the stage and launch straight into Second Solution. They really ham up the Australiana to the max, covering both Waltzing Matilda and AC/DC's Jailbreak. And of course the obligatory Prisoner Of Society sends most of the crowd stir-crazy. 

Californian stalwarts AFI are no strangers to the Soundwave stage; their last visit in 2009 was at the height of their ascent to the emo throne. Frontman Davey Havok has been doing this caper so long he's a pretty much a veteran. He whips his lithe body around during Girl's Not Grey and the mandatory Miss Murder and Love Like Winter. These guys have a stack of talents shared amongst everyone and the sound delivers, as always, a result.

Leeds party trashers Pulled Apart By Horses have always been a surprise delight on whatever line-up they appear in, and today is no exception. Still relatively unknown here in Australia, the four-piece rip through a fairly explosive set to next to no one. They don't care though – showcasing a few new tracks that sound promising, and closing out with perennial killer High Five, Swan Dive, Nose Dive – these guys deserve more.

There's a street swagger to Deez Nuts that's completely badarse. JJ Peters is menacing as he stalks the stage, channelling this raw energy into his spitfire verses, and the band's dirty hardcore is easy to get behind and rep. Just another Aussie act matching it with the big boys.

Delivering on all the gory promise, Gwar are a joyous little spectacle. It's not long before the front rows are soaked by a spray of fake blood, and the ride is all wacky monsters, swords, and spikey penises from there on. Much like their studio output, their music doesn't hold the weight you'd expect given their image, but they're still a lot of fun all the same.

Dir En Grey are a sight to be seen. Strongly following the Japanese movement of visual kei, Dir En Grey embrace make-up, wild hair and androgynous dress styles. Drummer Shinya graced the Brisbane stage in a flowing white gown while the rest of the members look like the cast of the Matrix. Their musical sound is just as dynamic. Vocalist Kyo changes from anthemic rock vocals to guttural growls to shrill screams. The overall sound is something like NIN crossed with nu-metal – the crowd loves it.

London-born alt-rockers Placebo's reigning popularity is unquestionable as roars erupt when they amble and kick off with Post-Blue. Brian Molko is still at his intriguing, androgynous best, ripping through tantalising tales of sex and drugs in Every You, Every Me and Too Many Friends. Despite Molko looking a little careworn, they're a buzzing spark among their more metal cohorts, ensuring upbeat favourites Black-Eyed and Special K stand out against the brooding Meds and Bitter End. They take their bow with Infra-Red.

Anders Kjolholm grins manically from behind his bass and it's easy to see why – dedicated Volbeat followers have turned out in force to sing along with their Danish rockabilly heroes; even Green Day's Tre Cool can be seen nodding his approval side of stage. Technically amazing, with just the right dash of Scandinavian quirk.

Is white greasepaint in metal still a thing? Clearly so, as old habits die hard. Satyricon do their mid-tempo double-kick metal well – death, heads on plates, diabolical roars, horned mic stand – that kind of thing. Undoubtedly this reviewer isn't the demographic this stuff is aimed at – so it is a pleasant surprise to find the set so enjoyable. The Oslo band must have been Kill 'Em All enthusiasts back in the day – possibly still are – and we're more than alright with that.

You're either gonna love or hate Panic! At The Disco, and that will essentially weigh on whether or not you find frontman Brendon Urie amazing or irritating. He's the ultimate drama class frontman, dancing, prancing and guiding the band through sickly sweet ditties like Ms Jackson, Ready To Go (Get Me Out Of My Mind) and Nine In The Afternoon. But the band have never done better than 2005's I Write Sins Not Tragedies, which closes a very tight, polished and pleasant set this afternoon.

Fans of '90's industrial rock heavy weights Filter get a rough deal as their set is cut in half due to technical issues. Unfortunately material from Title Of Record gets the axe, but Richard Patrick and company still treat the crowd to a few classics with (Can't You) Trip Like I Do, Jurassitol, and Hey Man, Nice Shot. Quite harsh considering it's been a 14-year wait to see them playing back here, but this little taste is still better than nothing. 

Trivium's set was nothing less than what their fans have grown to expect over the years. Playing their drawn out solos accompanied with driving drums for one hour amid other bands who only have 40-minute sets wasn't openly welcomed by fans waiting for Baroness. The hits they played dated back to 2005 with fans told to “jump up and down to the beat” of A Gunshot To The Head Of Trepidation. This was shortly followed by Becoming The Dragon from their 2006 release The Crusade.

There's nothing like seeing a built-for-festivals band play a big afternoon slot at the height of their powers, and A Day To Remember are downright nasty. The breakdowns are huge, the singalongs are even larger, and between the likes of All I Want, Homesick and Right Back At It Again, they give us the best of their catalogue while comfortably owning the stage.

Texan pop punks Bowling For Soup make the most of their late afternoon slot, living up to all expectations of a fun if lightweight roundtrip through favourites like Punk Rock 101. They love giving themselves a good ribbing as much as the crowd. There's quite a bit of love shown, and sound-wise it's punchy, tight, and fast. Newbie Since We Broke Up gets the obligatory new album plug before they finish with 1985, which is backed word-for-word by a thoroughly entertained crowd.

Is a harmonica still a thing in rock these days? Clutch believes so; then again, these Maryland rednecks know how to rock. It makes sense that this is the set where boobs are flashed. Neil Fallon is the consummate showman, all hand gestures, stalking the stage, and cowbell! Clutch seem even more energised since the release of new album Earth Rocker, and today come across as the reason why Lynard Skynard's plane came down all those years ago. Hot damn.

It's the ultimate celebration of legacy for the thousands of believers in the pit at Pennywise, and Hermosa Beach's finest, reinvigorated by the return of original frontman Jim Lindberg, make every second count. Same Old Story, Perfect People and Society still arrive with the same force that they did two decades ago, while Bro Hymn (Tribute) remains the ultimate closing stand.
Symbols used as words in band names should never have existed, but with Chino Moreno at the helm, Crosses could be spelt in Wingdings and they'd still be popular. As it stands, this set shows an atmospheric crossbreed of Deftones and the frontman's Team Sleep project. Three glowing crosses stand in the back as the band start incredibly strong, but the set is one of diminishing returns. That said, Moreno will forever be a magnetic presence – and that voice will split a mountain in twain.

It would have been a lot better to see Baroness play a night-time slot, but they do their best in the late-afternoon light, and it all goes down pretty well. Take My Bones Away and March To The Sea highlight the ever developing maturity of their songwriting craft, but it's the selections from early albums Red and Blue that really bring the pain and get the heads banging. 

Today marks the first show for Suicide Silence after Mitch Lucker passed away late-2012. Now that Hernan 'Eddie' Hermida from All Shall Perish has taken on vocal duties, Suicide Silence appear to be picking up where they left off with their punishing deathcore. The show stalled when each member walked off stage halfway through their set. Whether it was a staged encore or an emotional moment for them, no answers were given and it was awkwardly forgotten about. Eddie made the crowd yell “fuck everything”, one of the great lessons for kids off The Black Crown before finishing the set with parting words, “Rest in peace Mitch”.

Seattle stalwarts Alice In Chains are testament to a band's mettle. William DuVall has been leading the four-piece for close to a decade with the greatest respect to original singer Layne Staley and his legacy. It's near bedlam in the pit when they kick off with Them Bones. The distinctive melding of DuVall and Jerry Cantrell's voices is unbeatable in Hollow, Man In A Box, Check My Brain and Would?. Newbie Stone ups the sludge before they close with a veritable salute to Staley in Rooster.

Welshmen Skindred have quite an impressive following bumping and thumping to the anthemic Stand For Something. The foursome's blend of reggae rock, rap and and rhythmic metal render them a bit Cypress Hill with more anarchy. Frontman Benji Webbe unleashes a torrent of snapping verses and gets feet off the ground Ninja and Kill The Power. Getting everyone to wave their shirts around for Warning is a real highlight of the evening, injecting the line-up with some vibrant swagger.

Pepper Keenan's signature slow, swingin', stoner riffs take hold of the crowd and don't let go for the entire duration of Down's glorious set. After smashing himself in the head with the mic a short way in, a bloody Phil Anselmo sings praise to local metal legends Portal, and then continues on his own legendary course of performance. Aside from their recent single Witchtripper and the wondrous Ghosts Along The Mississippi, they focus almost exclusively on their debut NOLA. Lifer, Hail the Leaf, and Temptations Wings are all solid, but it's the epic closer of Bury Me In Smoke that is the real highlight.

Another band celebrating the return of old faces is Korn, and even with their slightly comical trash media backdrop they power through a set that you can't help but take seriously. With Munky and Head together again, the riffs are thundering, and new tracks like Love & Meth play nicely with classics like Got The Life and Blind.

Thirty-five years in the making, Belfast punks Stiff Little Fingers finally play in Brisbane. Heralding it their dream to finally play next to a hot chip van, the band blast through an all-too-short set of hits, and remind everyone why most commercial punk of the past two decades wouldn't exist without their influence. It may not be as energised as back in the day, but there is a veritable shit ton more soul here than in most other acts half their age.

Jimmy Eat World bring passion and heart to the main stage after dark, and give long-time fans plenty to smile about. When Jim Adkins sings that stellar concluding hook in A Praise Chorus it sounds absolutely magic, while the closing Bleed American triple hit of that album's title track, The Middle and Sweetness make sure our throats are raw and dry by the end.

In the same building as Suicide Silence though with half the crowd remaining, Terror take the stage for one of their classic tough guy shows. After reading the compiled 'vogelisms' it's hard not to concentrate on the intelligent one liners Scott Vogel belts out, most commonly repeating them four times over. As they start to play Stick Tight, Vogel jumps into the crowd where he remains for the majority of the set, most likely because the stage is so high he can't get back up. After insisting numerous times for everybody to “jump on somebody's head”, Terror finish with Keepers Of The Faith.

It'd be nice to share the Rocket From The Crypt experience with more than the 50-odd people at the front of the stage today, but that doesn't make the band perform with any less gusto. They stand and deliver from the get-go, Speedo proving he's a more than consummate frontman and a brilliant raconteur – even if his tale is about masturbating to the sound of a crying baby. The horn driven rock'n'roll has the faithful enraptured, Born In '69, On A Rope and Dick On A Dog just three highlights of a ridiculously fun set. Please come back.

Why is Uncle Acid & The Deadbeats on this bill? Their appearance on the smallest stage at RNA (alongside Stiff Little Fingers) shows that they are cast-offs, but they aren't about to take this quietly. This is straight-up '70's bonging rock'n'roll – and some of the tightest going around. The British four-piece are all chugging riffs and flailing hair, and prove that there is no reason to reinvent the wheel when you can just strap it on and tear straight into hell.

Well before Melbourne-based Dream On Dreamer take to the stage, young girls are flocking to the front of the barriers. Once they play, their set is almost destroyed with sound issues. Marcel Gadacz's vocals are turned right down and Zachary Britt's clean vocals are at a cringey high volume. A multitude of songs were played off their most recent album Loveless, accompanied with a backing track instead of having a live keyboard player. For such a young band, compared to the majority of the bands at Soundwave, Dream On Dreamer certainly know how to work the stage and the crowd certainly appreciates it.

French death metal titans Gojira are stupendously good in the live setting, and with the added bonus of a night-time slot this time around they do not disappoint. The sound is as close to perfect as one could hope for in a festival setting and this allows for the dynamics of their music to translate wonderfully. The near flawless set is bookended by two real standouts of their catalogue, Explosia and Toxic Garbage Island, and is one of the true highlights of the day.     

You know what to expect when Eagles Of Death Metal hit the stage. Jesse Hughes' flamboyant, dirt fried riff train remains somewhat tongue in cheek, but the years have seen the sound get heftier. Ever the charismatic ringleader, Hughes plays up to the crowd every chance he gets, strutting around like a drunken evangelical version of Foghorn Leghorn. It's a fun, captivating set, capped off by the guitarist with the Flying V, bald dome and Jesus beard.

Upstairs on Stage 6, The Ghost Inside give their fans plenty to go nuts over. The enclosed room is pretty packed out, and the contained setting adds to the intensity of their set. Like a highly-charged hand grenade it all feels like it's going to burst at any moment.

Frontman of White Zombie and sometime actor and director Rob Zombie still has that ability to present a show that's like nothing else. The veteran horror rock specialist emerges in full corpse rag garb with his players for Dead City Radio..., and gets all the guys to hoist their girls up for Living Dead Girl. That instantly recognisable saucy opening to sludge classic More Human Than Human rings out and shit is lost across the field, before Zombie plunges the set back to Dragula.

“Are you going to wear those pluggers into DevilDriver mate?” This quote overheard in the 'pit' basically sums up things. They're a hit with older metal fans and easy listening for the majority of people; provided you're partial to a bit of screaming, not a big fan of God and like a double kick. While their songs are pretty entry level metal, the vocalist Dez Fafara does have a custom microphone made by Mutant Mics. The vintage Shure 55SWG has been customised to have blue and green lights in it, so anywhere in the audience you could see a little green light flashing on stage as Dez sung.

Nothing written will do justice to Glassjaw's performance tonight, the influential NYC post-hardcore group laying all pretenders to waste with a set of brutal perfection. Although clearly not in the best health, Daryl Palumbo rose to the occasion on the mic, owning the fuck out of classics like Mu Empire and Tip Your Bartender, while Justin Beck's guitar work was the perfect complement up front.
Most people are glad that Guns N' Roses aren't really a thing anymore, but that's not to say anyone wanted Walking Papers, Duff McKagan's new outfit. There is pedigree here – Barret Martin of The Screaming Trees smashes the skins – but this set is nothing to write home about. Not that it's necessarily their fault – the mixing is painful, the worst heard at a festival for quite some time. Walking away is the only sensible reaction here.

With massively chunky riffs and deeply brash vocals, Motionless In White seemed to be a brutal metal band until they broke out into chorus melodies for the teens. Josh Balz brings a point of difference with his keyboards and synths though it is their bassist Devin 'Ghost' Sola who really stands out. Often depicted as horror metal, it is clear to see why when Ghost is wearing a tie and rocking half black, half green hair, looking like Beetlejuice with a bass guitar. Vocalist Chris Cerulli announces on behalf of all the bands at Soundwave that they thank their fans from “the bottom of their black hearts” for coming out to see them.

After all these years, The Dillinger Escape Plan are still as furious as ever. Their sheer energy is really something else, and tonight they supercharge it. From the moment opener Prancer begins it's nothing but pure madness. Their frantic eruptions hit a peak with Greg Puciato climbing high on the stage scaffolding, and then again later with Ben Weinman playing guitar while standing on the crowd. Their live sets should really come with a big warning sign that reads, 'Do not try this at home!'.     

Like a rabid dog let off a chain after being starved for a week, Jason Aalon Butler runs rampant across the stage, his beard dripping in sweat, his eyes darting with madness. Letlive. maul our bodies with their neck-snapping riot music, and the LA five-piece leave nothing in the tank during a set full of sonic chaos.

HIM have some serious shoes to fill, headlining the stage after The Dillinger Escape Plan. While drummer Mika Karppinen is closed off behind a drum screen, vocalist Ville Valo stands at the front centre stage tapping his heel and bellowing songs such as Right Here In My Arms. When Valo picks up an acoustic guitar it can't be heard at all through the mix. Mikko Lindström uses his wah pedal for the duration of the set, resulting in a bit of overkill. Wings Of A Butterfly is a definite crowd pleaser and the hits keep coming as HIM serenade the crowd with their emotive rock anthems.

Living Colour close out the tiny 7 Stage, and it's another relief show, seeing the band live up to expectation. It's a groovy way to see out a relentless day, and the band seem to realise this, whipping out the hits for the staggering few that have come to relive the glory days. Love Rears Its Ugly Head gets particularly rowdy, arms around shoulders in response, yet this solid set deserved more than to be shunted into the corner.

After the carnal detonation of Letlive., I Killed The Prom Queen were always going to seem a bit more tightly wound than what they really are, however, they still deliver a headline-worthy slot full of punishing breakdowns. The Aussie metalcore titans air plenty of new cuts from their Beloved record, and their onstage chemistry makes a clear statement: the boys are here to stay.

The mighty Mastodon deliver on all fronts with great power and precision, proving they are more than worthy of their headlining slot of Stage 4. The ever impressive Black Tongue fronts a set that draws heavily from 2011's opus The Hunter, and sheds even greater light on its brilliance. While their earlier albums get a lot less of a look in, gems Crack The Skye, Crystal Skull, Iron Tusk, and March Of The Fire Ants are powerful enough to speak volumes beyond their own contained form. A very fitting way to end the night.

Californian metal miscreants Avenged Sevenfold don't believe in doing things by halves. Emerging under a burst of fireworks, flames and a stage set of Steven Spielberg proportions, the five-piece look quite at home. Sunglass-sporting singer M. Shadows hurtles his troops through crowd favourites including Beast And The Harlot, Hail To The King and the moving Fiction for late drummer 'The Rev'. Unholy Confessions seals the deal but the dramatic staging seems to steal a bit of magic from them.

With almost three hours of Green Day you're gonna get a bunch of everything: old stuff, new stuff, stadium rock posturing and covers – plenty of covers. It all works well – though three hours is far too long – with classics (2,000 Light Years Away, Basket Case and Burnout) not seeming too at odds the likes of the pompous Jesus Of Suburbia or Stop When The Red Lights Flash. There are lots of covers though; from Men At Work and Rick Springfield to AC/DC and Ramones, The Beatles to Queen and a version of Operation Ivy's Knowledge that is absolutely ruled by Lara, a young audience member, who's dragged up to play.