Tonight promised something special: four bands, one stage, and a last-minute venue switch from the Barrowland to SWG3. The hiccup meant a few fans missed the opening act, Danish metalcore outfit Siamese — but judging by the buzz outside, they went down a storm.
Lionheart stepped up next with a stripped-down, no-excuses L.A. hardcore set — despite a major setback. Frontman Rob Watson was out of action, leaving the band a man down. Rather than cancel or coast through, they pivoted. Bassist Richard Matthews took the mic and led both band and crowd through a compact, high-intensity 30-minute run that felt half serious, half celebration — Lionheart karaoke with bite.
Missing their usual low-end vocal heft, the band traded polish for grit and attitude. The sound was rawer, the riffs more exposed, but that only sharpened the edge. They tore through beatdown staples like “LHHC” and “Treading Water,” and even threw in unexpected covers — a bruising take on Limp Bizkit’s “Break Stuff” and a rowdy rendition of the Beastie Boys’ “Fight For Your Right to Party.” Those bursts of reckless fun kept the room moving despite the setback.
What could have been a flat, compromised set became a lesson in resilience. Matthews’ ragged shouting, the band’s tight focus, and the crowd’s willingness to dive in turned the evening into one of those shows where imperfections make it unforgettable. The atmosphere shifted from disappointment to defiant energy; sweat, shouts, and singalongs replaced any sense of loss. By the time the set ended, Lionheart hadn’t just salvaged the night — they’d turned a challenge into momentum.
Next up were Florida’s Nevertel, making their first appearance on our circuit. Their sound stood apart from the rest of the bill — sleek alt-rock with a harder punch. The set mixed promise and nostalgia: flashes of originality wrapped in familiar textures, engaging from start to finish.
With guitar, drums, and two frontmen, Nevertel sit somewhere near Hands Like Houses territory, but with a sharper vocal dynamic. Jeremy Michael and Raul Lopez trade lines, then collide in an explosive rap-rock exchange that lit up the room. Their interplay created a lively push-and-pull between melody and aggression.
Beyond the music, they know how to command a stage. Confident delivery, well-timed crowd cues, and a sense of fun kept the energy up throughout. Even if tonight’s lineup wasn’t a perfect stylistic fit, Nevertel walked away with plenty of new fans — and serious potential for the future.
Then came the main event. Bury Tomorrow.
The moment those Purge sirens howled through the PA, the whole room shifted on its axis. The Southampton six-piece stalked the stage like they’d been counting the seconds to this entrance, and the crowd responded by losing its collective mind. Armed with a brand-new release, they arrived ready to dominate — lean, laser-focused, and intent on turning a tour stop into a victory lap.
The stage was cramped for their growing setup, but you’d never know it from the sound. They detonated straight into “Choke,” a precision strike of serrated riffs and concrete-heavy grooves, then followed with a one-two of “LIFE (Paradise Denied)” and “DEATH (Ever Colder).” The low end finally roared to life — helped by the fact that earlier supports had run without a bassist — and the band sounded colossal. Live, the mix was all muscle and momentum: drums hitting like piledrivers, guitars carving space for those soaring hooks. Tracks such as “Will You Haunt Me” and “With That Same Patience” — which some felt were over-polished in the studio — came alive on stage, leaner, meaner, and twice as gripping.
It was clear which new cuts are built to last. “Villain Arc” swaggered like a future set-piece, its chorus made for shouted gang vocals, while “Yokai” whipped up a storm with its stop-start chug and whiplash tempo shifts. Throughout, the band’s dual-vocal dynamic remained their not-so-secret weapon; the clash between feral roars and clean, sky-reaching melodies gave every chorus the lift of a flare in the dark.
If there’s one caveat, it’s the setlist’s scope. The cutoff point landed around 2018’s Black Flame, which makes sense — that era gave Bury Tomorrow their sharpest material — but longtime fans might’ve missed gems from Portraits, The Union of Crowns, Runes, and Earthbound. A few deep cuts could’ve turned a great night into an all-timer.
The venue switch may have disappointed some, but the energy never faltered. If anything, SWG3’s tighter confines amplified it. The place was bouncing, a pressure cooker on the verge of bursting, crowd surfers rolling endlessly toward the stage. The production leaned into the chaos: strobes slicing through a sea of upturned faces, silhouettes reeling in the gloom, every snare crack rattling the walls.
Any lingering doubts vanished when “Black Flame” hit. Daniel Winter-Bates hurled the chorus into the rafters and the room threw it straight back, louder still. It was a cathartic, communal roar — the kind of moment that reminds you why this band inspires such loyalty. Heads banged, phones disappeared into pockets, and the pit churned into a blur that’ll account for a few sore Monday mornings.
They closed with “Abandon Us,” channeling chaos into triumph. Arms rose as one; every downbeat felt like a last rite, every refrain a parting shot. Ninety minutes vanished in a whiteout of adrenaline.
Would the night have benefitted from a few more early-era classics? Probably. Can you complain when a band maintains this level of ferocity for an hour and a half? Absolutely not.
In the end, tonight was proof of concept for Bury Tomorrow’s current incarnation — heavier live, sharper in execution, and ruthlessly efficient at turning a room inside out. Give them a bigger stage and the confidence to dig deeper into their archive next time, and they won’t just level venues; they’ll leave nothing but dust behind.
Review & Photographs by James Edmond Photography
