Three radically different bands. One packed room. A stark reminder that metalโs true strength isnโt just volume, itโs the limitless spectrum of ways it can make you feel.
Wordsย & photosย byย James Crisp (@james_taking_pictures) | Feb 23, 2026
Who doesn’t love a circus right?? well it doesn’t matter because that is exactly what you’re getting with this lineup and you know what. It was magically marvellous.
Lets, jump straight in at the deep end shall we?
Witch Club Satan didnโt so much open the night as summon it. Any lingering pre-show chatter dissolved the moment the trio emerged through rolling haze in single file, drenched in blood-red light. Knitted horned headwear, incense smoke curling into the air and stark corpse paint set the scene before a single note rang out. Moving slowly across the stage, they fixed piercing eye contact on the audience, including myself, creating an atmosphere that felt less like a support slot and more like stumbling into a forbidden ritual already in progress.
What followed was an intentionally unnerving collision of black metal, noise and performance art. The sound was filthy and suffocating: pounding drums and droning bass underpinning a vocal assault of shrieks, snarls and cavernous growls, all punctuated by ghostly chants that wouldnโt feel out of place echoing through some abandoned cathedral. Every gesture, costume shift and deliberate movement carried weight, leaving the crowd suspended between intrigue, discomfort and total captivation.
Next up we have the mighty Alien Weaponry. The New Zealand groove metal trio stormed in with a commanding haka introduction drummer Henry de Jong setting the pulse before Lewis de Jong and Tลซranga Morgan-Edmonds joined to complete the moment, instantly snapping the room to attention. Seconds later, that tension erupted into a riff-driven onslaught that cracked the floor wide open into a sprawling circle pit.
Alien Weaponryโs power lies in their refusal to overcomplicate. Thick, groove-soaked riffs, razor-tight rhythms and vocals shifting seamlessly between English and te reo Mฤori delivered a set that felt raw, honest and undeniably heavy. The pit churned relentlessly, heads swung in rhythmic unity, and by the time Kai Tangata landed, the room had transformed into a boiling mass of sweat, limbs and collective adrenaline.
And now it’s time for tonight’s headliner.
As the house lights fell once more, anticipation no longer felt optional, it felt inevitable. Avatar have evolved far beyond the role of touring metal act; they arrive as a fully formed spectacle, and from the second they stepped onstage, the Academy belonged to them.
Opening with a signature theatrical flourish, which included lots of ritualistic robes, lanterns and bowing heads. The band very quickly established a tone that blurred circus, cabaret and precision metal performance into one cohesive experience. At the centre of it all stood Johannes Eckerstrรถm, a frontman whose charisma feels almost gravitational. Twisted carnival monologues, playful crowd work, mic stand theatrics and my good god, explosive vocal delivery which all flowed effortlessly, never tipping into caricature because the conviction behind it was just absolute.
Avatarโs live mastery lies in balance. Elaborate visuals, coordinated movement and dramatic lighting could easily overshadow the music, yet the bandโs musicianship anchors everything firmly. Riffs struck with surgical clarity, grooves hit with undeniable weight and melodic passages soared without sacrificing bite.
The show unfolded like a carefully scripted production. Songs dissolved into skits, banter became participation, and synchronised windmill headbanging felt less like a trope and more like choreography shared between stage and crowd. Arms stretched skyward, voices merged into chorus roar, and strangers leaned shoulder to shoulder in the kind of fleeting unity metal shows thrive on.
Visually, the performance was in constant motion. Dynamic lighting bathed the stage in colour and shadow, thick fog carved cinematic silhouettes, and the overall presentation ensured no vantage point felt secondary. Highlights came thick and fast, not least the arrival of a golden throne rolled onstage purely so guitarist Jonas โKungenโ Jarlsby could perch and shred with royal absurdity.
By the closing moments, the Academy no longer resembled a venue but rather Avatarโs travelling theatre, with Bristol cast willingly as extras in their beautifully warped production.
Beautifully bizarre!
Three radically different bands. One packed room. A stark reminder that metalโs true strength isnโt just volume, itโs the limitless spectrum of ways it can make you feel.
Leave a Reply