Tonight Melodic death, thrash ferocity and Scandinavian groove collided on a February night in north London.
a brutal testament to the enduring power of extreme metal. Headliners Kataklysm, joined by Polish death-metal juggernauts Vader and Norway’s own riff tyrants Blood Red Throne, didn’t just play to a packed O2 Academy, they dragged it by its collar, smashed its teeth in, and left it howling with bloodlust.
The air outside hung cold as fans queued, leather and denim layered like armour. Inside, however, the atmosphere vibrated with expectation. This was a congregation full of the devoted, from trench-coated death-metal purists to newer devotees drawn by the promise of a triple-threat night of sonic carnage.
By the time Blood Red Throne hit the stage, it was already clear: this wouldn’t be a night for polite applause — it would be a night of war!
Opening the assault with an uncompromising set, Blood Red Throne wasted no time establishing their presence. From the first crushing velocity of “Flesh Cathedral” (a personal highlight that tore through the room with the force of a hurricane) to the gnarly grooves of “Pestilent Streams,” their performance was the visceral declaration of intent that the crowd needed to kick off proceedings.
Vocalist Sindre Johnsen snarled into the mic with predatory precision, egging on early circle pits that quickly grew into battering rams of bodies and limbs. The guitarists locked into a groove so tight it felt like the stage itself was under siege. By the set’s climax, arms were thrust skyward, and sing-alongs emerged.
A rare feat for a band that thrives in dissonance and dark thunder. Tonight’s crowd was very much on board, and gave the kind of savage respect that only a metal hungry London gives.
Review: Joseph Mitchell
Photography: Artur Tarczewski
Now it’s time for some polish metal royalty.
When the lights dimmed and that unmistakable guttural riff kicked in, the roar that greeted Vader was a mix of reverence and unbridled joy. They opened with “Epitaph,” and the pit, already churning by then, completely obliterated any space left on the floor. If Blood Red Throne had ignited the fire, Vader tossed on a can of petrol.
Frontman Piotr “Peter” Wiwczarek commanded the stage like a general leading a battalion into war. Behind him, Marek “Spider” Pająk and Tomasz “Hal” Halicki flayed the strings with an almost surgical ferocity, while drummer James Stewart delivered blast beats that felt like machine-gun fire. The band carved through “Reign Forever World” with merciless efficiency, the crowd answering every verse with howls and fist pumps that could have toppled buildings.
The Londonites were unafraid to show their enthusiasm; by the time Vader brought out “Hallelujah!!! (God Is Dead)”, a track that has become a live staple. The bodies were launched over shoulders in waves, and a surreal sea of sweat, hair and leather undulated like some mosh ocean.
There was an electricity in the room that no stage fog or lighting rig could replicate.
Just unfiltered energy, a thrash-infused communion between band and devotees.
Review: Joseph Mitchell
Photography: Artur Tarczewski
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By the time Kataklysm took the stage, the O2 Academy was primed for total annihilation.
Led by the charismatic Maurizio Iacono (vocals), with JF Dagenais on guitar, Stéphane Barbe holding down the low end, and James Payne battering the drums, Kataklysm didn’t merely play; they delivered an unrelenting manifesto of aggression, melody, and sheer visceral force.
They opened with “Soul Destroyer,” and it was immediately clear that this wasn’t going to be a typical headliner’s stroll through greatest hits. If anything, it was a calculated dismantling of expectation. The guitars thundered, the blast beats pulverised all soft edges, and the crowd was right there responding like a beast unleashed.
Next came “Thy Serpent’s Tongue” with one of the filthiest riffs of the night, followed by the relentless pound of “Goliath.” Bodies bounced, fists punched the air, and that first massive circle pit was big enough to swallow a small nation. Lacono, ever the ringmaster, encouraged ever more abandon, and the London crowd obliged with gusto.
One of the most unforgettable moments came during “As I Slither,” when Iacono paused between songs to speak of struggle and resilience, a rare, thoughtful interlude in an otherwise feral set. The crowd hung on every word, nodding and roaring in approval.
The set wasn’t just loud, it was purposeful. “The Resurrected” hit like a declaration of revival, while “The Black Sheep” closed the night with a hypnotic groove and its anthemic chorus that saw the entire venue chanting back at the band.
This wasn’t your regular Monday night concert; it was an experience.
A collision of titans that proved extreme metal is alive, furious and fearless. The crowd didn’t just react.. They participated.
They converted every riff into their own battle cry, every drum blast into collective heartbeats pounding with exhilaration. London showed up not to witness metal, but to BECOME part of it.
If there’s a metric for a truly great night, it’s that when the last chord faded, and the house lights came up, no one wanted to leave. We stayed, sweat on jackets, ringing ears and feral grins plastered on our faces.
Already replaying every brutal second, already craving the next dose of that Freedom Or Death energy.
Review: Joseph Mitchell
Photography: Artur Tarczewski
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