Words by Amy Driscoll

Friday 21 November

Supports: Wednesday 13

Last night unleashed one of the most chaotic, cinematic double acts I’ve ever seen, Wednesday 13 stormed the stage in a whirlwind of constant movement, hat tossing, and pure leather-punk swagger that crackled through the whole room. The vocals felt almost supernatural, rising straight through the bass and vibrating through the floorboards like a second heartbeat. The guitarist carried that skull emblem like a warning sign, part ritual, part attitude, part silent storyteller.

The crowd chemistry was next-level, Wednesday 13 had the venue screaming on command three separate times, the kind of collective roar that rattles the air. A pumpkin bucket made its way on stage in a burst of candy and chaos thrown at the crowd, and during the zombie track he slow-stalked the stage like something freshly dug out of the grave. Fans in the audience smeared red paint across their faces to match him, turning the room into a horror-themed reflection of the man onstage.

One of the most iconic moments was when he spat onto the stage, casually said “don’t take this personally,” and then commanded everyone to raise their fists before tearing into a track about bad things happening to you. Full punk energy, full theatre, full attitude. And when he told the entire venue to flip off the stage and scream “FUCK!” while swinging an umbrella with the word written across it, the place absolutely detonated.

Kim Dracula stepped into a completely different atmosphere, same level of chaos, but sharpened with drama and precision. The crowd dressed up for this one, some matching the intense, stylised eyes associated with his aesthetic. When he appeared in that cloak in the crowd before heading onto the stage, the whole room snapped to life. Smoke flooded the space, lights sliced through it, and he moved with that mythic, unpredictable presence that only he can carry.

A Mission Impossible-style tension build hit early in the set before ‘Drown‘, someone swept the crowd with a torch like they were searching for a suspect before the next drop. Later, he launched into a Guitar-Hero-style moment that felt like a nod to a riff-heavy classic, and the crowd moved like they were inside the game.

The saxophone solo was unreal, cutting through the mix with this strange, unexpected beauty that shouldn’t belong in such a heavy environment but somehow lifted the whole moment. During his dramatic ‘Paparazzi‘ cover, a masked figure handed him wine mid-song, adding to the sense of theatre.

Toward the end, he brought out a pot that poured smoke like some cursed cauldron, then dropped into one of his newer tracks. The crowd absolutely refused to accept the show ending, screaming for ‘Kill‘, and when he gave it to them, it felt like the final rush of energy the venue had left.

Review and Photos by Amy Driscoll

Please credit Amy and PitPass if using images.