Brisbane Entertainment Centre is heaving as the Big Rock tour rolls through.
It's chock-o-block, bodies piling in early and the merch lines thick. There's a lot of jovial chit-chat while the beers flow, lubricating lips of fans. I love the low hum a packed venue generates and it's telling me this one is about to go off (12 April).
Three bands, no filler. No one here is making up numbers. A Day To Remember. Papa Roach. LANDMVRKS. It's a stacked bill and Brisbane has shown up for all of it!
Lashing our ears first, LANDMVRKS waste no time. 'Creature' lands like a hit to the chest before ears can interpret the vibrations to our brains. A killer bass tone shakes the floor before the crowd even settles in. The response is instant, voices firing straight back at the stage.
'Sulfur' follows heavier again, Florent Salfati switching between languages without hesitation, French and English cutting through a crowd already locked in. The pit opens early, not waiting for permission.
'La valse du temps' brings melody without softening anything. I realise just how many people are watching with focus who don't appear to know the music. They're bobbing heads and shifting shoulders and hips as they watch the French act twist, spin and kick about the stage without messing up a single note.
'Lost In A Wave' kicks bodies over the barrier and it does not slow from there. 'Rainfall' holds that pulse before 'Blood Red' drags it deeper again. By the time 'Self-Made Black Hole' closes it out, the place is drenched in sweat and fully switched on.
LANDMVRKS - image © Clea-marie Thorne
Thirty minutes in and it feels like a headliner has already happened. With thanks to fans and new recruits, they're gone, leaving us properly primed.
The reset is where the scale of the night really shows itself. Stage crew flooding the floor, risers shifting, cloaked gear unveiled. Behind it all a lighting rig that feels less like a setup and more like a structure. Massive arrays hanging overhead, layered beams testing angles across the empty stage like it is warming up too.
There is no real pause between sets. Music bleeds through the system, fragments of classic rock cutting in and out, the energy never fully drops.
Papa Roach arrive with history baked into the name itself. Pulling 'Papa' from Jacoby Shaddix's maternal grandfather and 'Roach' from his paternal grandfather, both musicians in their own right, then twisting it into something tougher, grittier, stubborn.
A name that carries family, music, and that cockroach resilience all at once. Refusing to die even when it should; and that feels exactly right once they hit.
Fire pillars erupt straight up to the height of the arena, CO2 blasting through 'Even If It Kills Me', screens lighting the entire space in strobe and colour. The lighting rig is not just supporting the show, it's driving it, slicing the room into moments of heat and shadow.
'Blood Brothers' and 'Dead Cell' pull everything back to the early 2000s and the reaction is immediate. Circle pits open on instinct, older fans snapping into it, younger ones catching up fast.
Papa Roach - image © Clea-marie Thorne
Shaddix is fully loose in it, throwing Brisbane slang back at the crowd, calling it a room of sick c...s and getting it roared right back. There is no separation between stage and floor tonight, just constant movement between the two.
During 'To Be Loved' Jacoby moves through the crowd, completely in it, face to face with people screaming every line back at him. I miss it while cloaking cameras and it stings, because you can already hear later how big that moment lands.
'Kill The Noise' splits the room clean, 'Getting Away With Murder' has the entire arena shouting in sync, and 'California Love' drops in loose as a band intro, chaotic but somehow perfect in context. Everything pulls back.
A pre-recorded message from Shaddix cuts through talking openly about mental health and suicide, and the space tightens immediately. Not silence as absence, silence as attention – and yeah, what he said, stepping out of it for a second. If you are struggling, or someone you know is, reach out to a service like Lifeline (13 11 14) and if it is urgent, call 000. You matter. Stay.
Papa Roach - image © Clea-marie Thorne
'Leave A Light On' follows and the lighting rig shifts into something softer, phones rising across the arena, turning it into a low glow instead of a roar. 'Scars' and 'Help' carry that weight forward, voices still loud but different now, less shouting, more holding on. It lifts again.
'Braindead' drops in new but already landing, and the pit snaps straight back into motion. 'Born For Greatness' turns the floor into one moving mass. Next comes the visual centre-piece.
'Between Angels And Insects' hits and the entire digital backdrop floods with shifting insect imagery, crawling distortion, glitching movement across the screen behind the band. It's not just decoration, it feels like part of the identity of the song, tying straight back into that cockroach symbolism: survival, persistence, something that keeps moving no matter what.
That idea of the name comes full circle here. Papa Roach as legacy, as grit, as something inherited and mutated and still standing. From there it goes fully off the rails. You guessed, no doubt. Nu metal time machine. Korn, Deftones, Limp Bizkit, System Of A Down and The Wiggles stitched into one chaotic medley. It should fall apart. It does not.
Papa Roach - image © Clea-marie Thorne
However, as much as we have lost our voices to the snippets of chaos, it is 'Last Resort' that rasps our throats as the closer. Punters are screaming it back at full volume, no restraint left anywhere in the room.
Quick reset again. Crew are flying across the stage doing their thing, but I'm watching the crowd more than anything. No one is drifting, they're holding the energy and the space for what we all know is coming. It's not anticipation anymore, it's pressure. Then it detonates!
A little pack of punters are marched past me while I'm waiting in the wings, and you can tell straight away something's up. Turns out they've scored the golden ticket. They might have started the night buried up in the nosebleeds, but now they're wearing those 'my seat sucks' stickers like badges of honour – their whole night flipped on its head.
They're being planted behind the drum kit for the set, seeing it from the inside instead of miles back in the rafters. A real once-in-a-lifetime experience.
A Day To Remember hit with 'The Downfall Of Us All', the entire place singing before the band properly locks in. No easing, no build, just straight into it. Jeremy McKinnon barely needs to steer.
The second 'Homesick' gets a mention, 'I'm Made Of Wax, Larry, What Are You Made Of?' rips through the arena, fast, loud, fully locked in. '2nd Sucks' pushes it harder again, confetti firing, crowd surfers stacking up, security flat out trying to keep pace.
A Day To Remember - image © Clea-marie Thorne
The lighting rig shifts gears again, strobes punching in time with breakdowns instead of just lighting them, every hit landing sharper, heavier. 'Bad Blood', 'Paranoia' and 'Miracle' roll through without losing momentum. No drop, no reset, just a band leaning into it and a crowd matching them step for step.
'All My Friends' flips the mood for a minute, shirts getting launched, people scrambling, laughing, a bit of chaos that keeps it loose before it snaps back. 'Mr Highway's Thinking About The End' snaps everything heavy again, drums cutting clean through the mix, the pit tightening and spinning back up.
'Have Faith In Me' pulls it inward, and this is where it hits different. People up on shoulders, arms around each other, voices cracking a bit as they sing it back. Not just singing along, actually feeling it.
A Day To Remember - image © Clea-marie Thorne
'LeBron' breaks that tension just enough, inflatable basketballs flying everywhere across the front of the arena. We're engaged in a match of the Lefties and Righties (side of stage) shooting hoops for points! People lose it over something completely stupid and perfect. My side wins of course – not that a ball got anywhere near me. It was entertaining to watch.
'All I Want' lands huge, one of those choruses that does not need help, it just carries. Then 'Monument' drops in and you can feel the shift for those who know, tying it back to LANDMVRKS who missed it during a previous show. It's fully embraced by the fans they met at the airport too, who are getting their set-list wish.
'The Plot To Bomb The Panhandle' is chaos again. Jumping, shouting, no one holding back anything at this point. The 'my seat sucks' crew (or whatever this version is called) circle the stage, tossing loo paper like it's poor man's streamers.
A Day To Remember - image © Clea-marie Thorne
Mario makes an appearance and has a super t-shirt shooting weapon. Blasting merch into the crowd for kicks. Nope. I didn't catch one of those either; I did collect a bunch of confetti for a young boy and girl sitting atop the shoulders of their adult mounts. I love seeing the little ones at concerts (with good ear gear of course!).
Then it softens. 'If It Means A Lot To You' brings the whole place together. Phones up, voices merging, strangers leaning into each other and singing like they've known each other for years. It's loud, but it is also personal. The kind of moment that cuts through everything else.
Final push. 'Resentment' drags the weight back in, flames kicking, the pit still moving, and 'All Signs Point To Lauderdale' closes it properly. One last burst of everything left in the tank. Streamers hanging, bodies wrecked, voices gone.
A Day To Remember - image © Clea-marie Thorne
As I walk out of the venue, it's that familiar state. Sweaty, hoarse voice, ears ringing, people replaying moments back at each other as they spill out into the night.
Three bands. Three completely different energies. All landing. Brisbane giving it straight back the whole way through. On ya Brissie!
