Monthly Archives: May 2025

Music, My Stories

Live Review: Monolith Festival – Hordern Pavilion, Sydney

Featuring: Leprous, Periphery, Coheed and Cambria

Date: 10 November 2024

I’ve had this post for a while in various drafts and thought it was time to finish it.

The “Monolith Festival” returned to Sydney with a stacked progressive lineup and a reputation for delivering complexity, emotion, and sheer sonic weight.

Held at the iconic Hordern Pavilion, the festival promised more than just performances, it offered artist workshops, communal spaces, and a cultural showcase for fans of progressive rock and metal. But as these things go, time got away from me.

Unfortunately, I missed the first two acts and all of the artist workshops, an all-too-common casualty of Sydney traffic and the general logistics of festival life.

That said, there was still plenty to take in outside the main stage. Within the fenced-off, ticket-holder-only zone, a decent selection of food trucks (Woodfire Pizza and Turkish Gozleme) offered solid sustenance, while the Byron Bay Brewery bar kept spirits high.

Traditional venue options inside were also available, but the atmosphere outside had that kind of low-key camaraderie that festivals like this are great at cultivating.

Leprous

My first time seeing Leprous live.

They landed on my radar thanks to a Spotify algorithm about eight years ago, and since then, they’ve remained a steady presence in my playlists. “The Congregation” (2015) is still my go-to from their discography; cold, mathematical, yet deeply emotive.

Onstage, Leprous radiated a quiet confidence. The Norwegian five-piece walked the tightrope between technical precision and atmospheric build, and for a band that thrives on restraint, they commanded the stage without excess.

Frontman Einar Solberg’s falsetto soared through the room with eerie control, making converts out of any first-timers.

Songs like “The Price” and “Slave” unfolded like emotional equations, each section calculated but still cutting deep. Their set was perhaps the most introspective of the night, and it worked.

Periphery

Cue chaos.

Pop music blares over the speakers until it’s suddenly cut off by the outro to “Crush.”

That abrupt tonal shift was the perfect entry into Periphery’s calculated aggression.

The band launched into “Wildfire,” a spiraling, multi-sectioned assault from their latest album “Periphery V: Djent Is Not A Genre” (2023).

Phones lit the air like tiny lighthouses, struggling to anchor anyone in the seas of down-tuned guitars, polyrhythms, and seizure-inducing strobes.

Aussie drummer David Parkes filled in admirably for Matt Halpern, who stayed home for the birth of his second child. Parkes handled the intricate time signatures and unpredictable shifts with mechanical precision.

The setlist leaned heavily on “P:V”, with highlights like “Atropos”, a personal favorite, offering moments of clarity amidst the chaos. That track’s clean sections created a stark contrast that only made the heavy parts hit harder.

“Reptile,” a 16-minute behemoth from “Periphery IV: Hail Stan”(2019), raised some eyebrows. In a short set window, it was a bold move, equal parts indulgent and impressive. But if you were there for the musicianship, it was a masterclass.

They closed with crowd-pleasers “Marigold” and “Blood Eagle,” with the latter turning the pit into a blur of limbs and hair.

From the last time I saw them at The Annandale Hotel in 2013, the band has evolved. The absence of bassist Nolly Getgood (who stepped away in 2017) hasn’t dulled their low end, but it has reshaped the balance. They’re leaner now—five members, three guitars, all in.

Coheed and Cambria

A concept band doing a concept album at a concept festival. Perfect match.

Coheed delivered “Good Apollo, I’m Burning Star IV, Volume One: From Fear Through the Eyes of Madness” (2005) in full. No cut corners, no medleys. Just front-to-back storytelling, as dense and labyrinthine as their discography demands.

There’s something almost theatrical about Claudio Sanchez’s vocals, part prog-opera, part comic book epic. Whether it was the haunting “Ten Speed (Of God’s Blood and Burial)” or the melancholic “Wake Up,” the band navigated the album’s twists with unwavering energy.

“The Willing Well” suite; four interlinked songs running over 20 minutes total; was ambitious and, frankly, kind of mesmerizing.

But let’s be honest: “Welcome Home” was the showstopper.

That intro riff?

Unstoppable.

The crowd knew it, and the band leaned into the moment like it was their final form.

After the main set, Coheed returned with a two-song encore: the pop-punk tinted “A Favor House Atlantic” and the anthemic “In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth: 3.”

Everyone screamed the final chorus like they were shouting back at their teenage selves.

Final Thoughts

I didn’t catch everything, but what I did see was worth the trip. Each band brought a different flavour of “monolithic”; Leprous with their glacial precision, Periphery with their controlled chaos, and Coheed with their galactic storytelling.

Monolith Festival isn’t just about music, it’s about endurance, narrative, and the sublime power of sound pushed to its technical limits.

Would I go again? In a heartbeat.

But next time… I’m arriving early. And I’m not missing those damn workshops.

\::/

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Classic Songs to Be Discovered, Influenced, Music, My Stories, Unsung Heroes

Machine Head’s ‘Unatoned’ Is a 41-Minute Punch in the Soul – Brutally Honest Review (Track-by-Track)

Machine Head’s eleventh studio album, “Unatoned”, released on April 25, 2025, through Nuclear Blast and Imperium Recordings, marks a significant evolution in the band’s discography.

Clocking in at 41 minutes, it’s their shortest album to date.

Landscape of Thorns

A 31-second instrumental opener that is like walking into a post-apocalyptic cathedral made of rust and bad decisions. No lyrics, just vibe.

The vibe?

You’re screwed.

Atomic Revelations

You know that moment when you realize humanity might’ve peaked with sliced bread and everything since is just radioactive garbage?

Yeah, that’s this song.

“Atomic revelations / These cryptic devastations…”

In other words, the future’s here, and it’s wearing a hazmat suit. Think less “technological utopia” and more “Oops, all fallout.”

It’s a poetic bitch slap to our blind optimism. A warning, framing the future not as a bright evolution but as a terrifying construct built from our short-sighted and immoral decisions.

Unbound

This is the sonic equivalent of breaking out of a mental straitjacket while screaming into a hurricane.

Lead single for a reason, it’s the sound of someone clawing their way to freedom, with bloody nails and existential panic.

It’s not about being free. It’s about realizing you’ve been your own prison warden the whole damn time.

Outsider

A love letter to being done. Betrayal, bitterness, burn-it-to-the-ground energy.

All the lying, all the cheating
All you left me was defeated
There could never be forgiveness in the end

No redemption arc. Just someone standing over the wreckage of trust and lighting a cigarette off the flames.

It’s beautiful.

In the way that watching your ex trip over karma is beautiful.

Not Long for This World

Here’s your death anxiety, set to music. Haunting, lyrical, and bleakly gorgeous. The kind of track that makes you text your therapist and also maybe your mom.

Through the struggles life hurls
Behold the heavens unfurl
Not long for this world

You’re gonna die. Everyone you love will die. And this track whispers: “Yup. And?” It’s oddly comforting, like being hugged by a ghost.

These Scars Won’t Define Us

A motivational anthem for people who’ve seen some serious crap and didn’t get a cheesy Instagram quote tattoo about it.

Head to the grindstone, power forward through the endless dark
Focus, determination, on this world I’ll leave a mark
It took so long for any confidence to get in here
And now the question that I need to know, I cannot hear

It’s not saying “you’re special.” It’s saying “you survived, now do something with it.” Less “self-love,” more “self-discipline.”

Dustmaker

“Dustmaker” is a little musical intermission.

A breather.

Kind of. It’s the metal equivalent of a weird dream sequence in a war movie. You’re not dying yet, but your brain’s doing weird crap.

Sip some water. You’ll need it.

Bonescraper

It’s a head banger with themes of self-destruction and a side of guilt.

We scrape our bones to numb the pain

If you’ve ever tried to drink your problems away, punch your trauma into silence, or sleep with someone just to feel something, this one’s your anthem. Congrats, you’re the problem and the solution.

Addicted to Pain

This one goes out to everyone who keeps dancing with the same demons and calling it “growth.” Spoiler: it’s not.

We’ll never know what could’ve been
Cravings pulled you deep within
Thrown into the hit machine
Feed the beast, start the routine
You gave it all just to chase this flame
The dotted line, a puppet in the game now
Twisted and cheating
The fame we chase is bleating
Turned against brother for acclaim that is fleeting

The fame-chasing, dopamine-looping, clout-sucking treadmill of modern life, and how it turns people into hollowed-out achievement junkies.

No wonder you’re tired.

Bleeding Me Dry

This one’s a gut-punch, a slow-motion collapse of a relationship that started with dreams and ended with pill bottles and silence.

There’s no pain without living life
This liquor helps cope with the strife
We talked of you being my wife
Picket fences, some kids, and two bikes
But all that was a fantasy lost in our haze
Through all of the weed smoke and piles of cocaine
A pharmacy of Vicodin, Percs, refillers
You and I were worst friend’s best painkillers

Jesus.

That line alone deserves a Pulitzer in “Emotional Damage”.

It’s not a love song, it’s a eulogy for what could’ve been. And it hurts because it’s true.

They’re not lovers, not saviors, just each other’s favorite painkillers in a life too painful to face sober.

Shards of Shattered Dreams

More heartbreak. More poetic destruction. Think of it like picking glitter out of a crime scene.

It’s raining
Shards of shattered dreams
This love divine
Ruins everything
Left to pick up the pieces
Of my dejected heart
I’m breaking and I’m ripping at the seams
These shards of shattered dreams

When hope becomes a weapon. When dreams cut deeper than knives. This one will haunt you at 3 a.m., probably while scrolling through old texts you should’ve deleted.

Scorn

The final exhale.

Closing the album, “Scorn” is a haunting ballad that delves into themes of manipulation and societal decay, featuring piano-driven melodies that contrast its dark lyrical content.

The music says “reflection,” but the lyrics say “everything’s broken.”

The Wrap Up

It’s short, sharp, and swinging a sledgehammer. Less an album, more a therapy session set to blast beats. It’s a bleak, beautiful middle finger to false hope and a mosh pit for your emotional baggage. If you’re looking for easy answers, you’re in the wrong pit, buddy.

Joining Robb Flynn and Jared MacEachern is drummer Matt Alston and guitarist Reece Scruggs, injecting fresh energy into their sound, making “Unatoned” a noteworthy entry in their discography.

Final Score:
5 existential crises out of 5.

Now go scream into the void or your pillow, whichever’s closer.

\::/

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Influenced, Music, My Stories

Is Metal in Crisis?

The idea that metal is in crisis, whether due to oversaturation, a lack of originality, or changing audience engagement, seems to be a recurring sentiment among older generations of fans.

But is metal truly in decline, or is this perspective more a symptom of aging, nostalgia, and shifts in how we consume music?

The Age Factor: Fatigue vs. Fresh Ears

A young listener coming into metal today wouldn’t think the genre is in crisis. If anything, they’re encountering a landscape full of new music, endless subgenres, and countless bands to discover. They don’t have the same point of reference as someone who grew up when there were fewer metal bands, more gatekeeping, and a greater emphasis on full-album experiences.

For older fans, like me, there’s often a sense of fatigue. Over decades of listening, many metalheads feel me like we’ve “heard it all before.”

Riffs, song structures, and production styles that once felt groundbreaking might now seem derivative. This isn’t necessarily because metal has gotten worse, rather, it’s a byproduct of familiarity. The more you consume, the harder it is to be surprised.

But each new wave of fans is excited about something that may seem repetitive or uninspired to those who have already lived through multiple cycles of innovation.

I had to actively seek out metal, often through record stores, tape trading, and word of mouth. This process required time, effort, and sometimes even risk, buying an album based on cover art alone, waiting weeks for an import to arrive, or discovering new bands through underground zines.

That level of commitment created a deep connection between listener and music. There was an emotional investment in the experience. When you spent your hard-earned money on a single album, you had to give it multiple listens, even if you weren’t hooked right away. That patience often led to a greater appreciation for the depth of the music.

Compare that to today’s streaming era, where music is instantly accessible. While this allows anyone to explore niche genres with minimal effort, it’s also led to an endless sea of content.

Listeners can skip tracks within seconds, constantly moving on to something new without letting an album sink in. This convenience fosters a different kind of relationship with music, one that can feel less “earned” to those who grew up under the old system.

For an older fan, it can seem like metal has lost its soul, not necessarily because the music is worse, but because the ritual of discovery has changed.

Oversaturation vs. Opportunity

There’s no denying that metal, like all genres, is more saturated than ever. Advances in technology mean that anyone with a laptop can record and distribute music, leading to an overwhelming volume of releases.

But is that really a bad thing?

For young listeners, this means more diversity, more experimentation, and more ways to find exactly what speaks to them.

While an older fan might lament that there are “too many bands that sound the same,” a younger fan may see an ecosystem where they can explore an endless array of niche styles.

It’s also worth noting that every generation has had complaints about oversaturation.

In the late ‘80s, thrash metal had so many similar bands that many critics claimed the genre was becoming stagnant. The same was said about hard rock towards the end on the 80s/start of 90s, death metal in the early ‘90s, metalcore in the 2000s, and djent in the 2010s. Yet metal has always found ways to reinvent itself.

The Role of Nostalgia in Perceived Decline

It’s human nature to view the past as a golden era. This is particularly true in music, where people tend to romanticize the bands they grew up with. Metal fans who came of age in the ‘80s often see that as the peak, just as those who started in the ‘90s might champion that era, and so on.

However, if you ask a 16-year-old today, they might argue that metal has never been stronger. They’re discovering bands without any baggage, without comparisons to the past, and without the weight of decades of listening experience making them jaded.

What might seem “unoriginal” to an older listener could feel fresh and exciting to them.

Similarly, the tendency to view the past as superior is amplified by the way we remember things. The weak or generic bands of the ‘80s and ‘90s have largely been forgotten, while the legends remain in cultural memory. If you judge the current scene by its mediocre bands while remembering the past only through its icons, of course it will seem like metal has declined.

The perception that metal is struggling isn’t new, it’s been a conversation since at least the late ‘80s. But in reality, metal isn’t in crisis; it’s simply evolving in ways that can be harder for long-time fans to appreciate.

Young listeners today don’t think metal is dead because they aren’t burdened by nostalgia or fatigue. To them, the sheer abundance of music is an opportunity, not a problem. The old model of discovery, where commitment was required, has been replaced by one of limitless accessibility, and while that changes the experience, it doesn’t necessarily make it worse.

Ultimately, metal will continue to thrive as long as there are new generations of fans who are excited by it. The real crisis isn’t in the music itself, it’s in whether long-time fans can adapt their perspective and find new ways to engage with the genre.

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