Live Review : Dying Fetus + Chelsea Grin + Despised Icon + Vitriol @ Academy 2, Manchester on December 4th 2024

On a wet and windy Wednesday night, the unassuming Student’s Union bar at the Manchester 2 is flooded with devoted death metal fans embarking on a peculiar pilgrimage. Positioned in a dimly lit room tucked away up a staircase and around a forgotten corner; Dying Fetus lead the charge on this unruly bill, with Salt Lake City’s Chelsea Grin, deathcore collective Despised Icon, and opener Vitriol. Before the show, the PA system pulsates out strictly cheesy dance and disco, the bass reverberating, tantalising the crowd with what’s to come. The excitement is infectious; a legion of black shirts emblazoned with scrawled, hard-to-decipher names, the echoes of the genre’s underbelly, dancing to Darude’s ‘Sandstorm’, a fitting prelude to the chaos about to unfold.

Vitriol’s presence is felt long before the Portland two-piece take the stage. All the t-shirts and chatter confirm their standing as one of those uber trendy need-to-know opening acts. Vitriol’s music is a masterclass in speed and brutality. Matt Kilner assaulting presence on drums and Kyle Rasmussen's commanding vocals and guitars melded together perfectly in a tanglement of unforgiving precision. They tear through their setlist with a relentless fervour, convalescing the crowd to bang their heads in synchronised unison to the thunderous beat. Foistering a blend of blast beats and intricate melodic passages. Vitriol encapsulate the true essence of death metal, an unfiltered rawness that bypasses the senses and burrows into your inner being.

Despised Icon steal from the Dying Fetus rulebook by emulating their signature duelling dual vocals approach. Alex Erian and Steve Marois berate the crowd with a distinctive and dark sound, conveying a barrage of brutal barks and bludgeoning bawls. The breakdowns are at the heart of their sound, and they hit like a sledgehammer to the chest.

An incisive and intricate technical prowess is on full display as Despised Icon effortlessly navigate complex time changes. This inherent mastery of fluctuating tempos demonstrates why they are not only revered in the death metal community, but seen as early pioneers in the developments of all this ‘core’ business. The pit erupts into bubonic life from the first song. As the set lumbers on it never slows in its all-consuming momentum or wanes in its intensity. Bodies collided like crashing waves, fuelled by unadulterated aggression and sped on by ruthless riffs and brutish breakdowns. Calamitous noise for calamitous actions.

Chelsea Grin are awarded the honour of the coveted special guest slot. Tom Barber warns the crowd that to get to Dying Fetus, they’ve got to get through them first. A challenge that the crowd gleefully accept.  Chelsea Grin have been a mainstay in the metal culture zeitgeist since their 2010 LP “Desolation of Eden”, and despite numerous shakeups in the lineup, they have still maintained their impeccable position. Drummer Josh Miller keeps a feverish pace for the performance; consuming and crushing. His blast beats bordered on the inhuman, an unabated battery that was the clear driving force behind the band. The thunderous double bass synchronises with the heartbeat of the venue, reverberating through the walls and deep into our bones. It forging a connection that transcends mere musical performance and allows the unbridled spirit of deathcore to engulf the venue.

Warming the already bruised-up crowd with a little ‘YMCA’ singalong, Dying Fetus, a titan of the genre, take to the stage against a heavy curtain of buzzing bass. Pulsating from the floor with such convulsing reverb it pricks the skin with goosebumps, Dying Fetus don’t just want you to hear their music. They want you to feel it. This is a band whose technical prowess and brutal sound just bays for your unrelenting respect.

They take to the stage to a thunderous roar from the audience and launch into fan-favourite ‘From Womb to Waste’. Straight out of the gate this triggers a visceral onslaught of a mosh pit soundtracked by guttural growls and staggering riffs. The frenetic energy is infectious; convulsing bodies surge forward like waves crashing against rocks, crowd surfers thrown over the barrier as if hoisted overboard. It is a nonstop whirlwind of hair, sweat, flying cups, raining beer and even one sturdy umbrella.  

Dying Fetus produce a sound that is dense and oppressive, an avalanche of syncopated riffs and down-tuned, serrated guitars. The monstrous breakdowns hit like a freight train, the crowd surging and collapsing with the swell of the songs. Bodies continue to collide as the pit transforms into a wall of death. The organic connection between the band and audience is cemented by this primal brutality. Co-vocalist turned guitarist John Gallagher is clearly very impressed by the endeavours, praising the violent efforts of the crowd and dubbing our fayre city “Man-Chest-Hair.

Technical proficiency is on full display as is to be expected from such a legendary outfit. Drummer Trey Williams seamlessly transitions between quick blast beats and thunderous double bass patterns. The band’s mastery of timing and rhythm add multiple layers of complexity to their compositions. Every song becomes a dizzying experience keeping the audience headbanging and moshing with abandonment.

The precision is staggeringly impressive; showcasing not just their talent but a deep understanding of the genre's intricacies and the deep seated expectations of their audience. The intensity of the performance is matched only by the lyrics, depicting themes of human depravity and existential dread. Dying Fetus tackles the darkest of subjects with an unapologetic ferocity, and witnessing it live feels like being part of a cathartic ritual. A night of guttural lows to ferocious highs once again reaffirming Dying Fetus's peerless position.

Check the “In The Flesh” page for more photos!
Dying Fetus + Chelsea Grin + Despised Icon + Vitriol