The warm Brisbane night is humming with anticipation as fans filter through the doors of The Princess Theatre in Brisbane.
The street outside is alive with murmured excitement, the glow of venue lights casting pretty coloured shadows on punters who are exchanging predictions about the night ahead (7 February).As I move inside, the air is already thick with the scent of beer and mixed colognes, the low rumble of pre-show chatter is swelling as bodies start gather closer to the stage barrier. Eventually the house lights drop, and a collective surge presses forward – it's showtime!
Frankenbok storm the stage and holy heck, they look like they are set to tear this place apart. From the moment 'Monk Discipline' kicks in, it's pure chaos in the best way – big, chugging guitars, crushing drums, and OG Adam 'Hutch' Glynn's signature growl commanding the crowd like a metal preacher.
The band is wasting no time setting the tone for the night, and punters who might've only rocked up early to suss them out are quickly converted like the fans among them. By the time they slam into 'Dopamine', there is a moshpit is properly moving, footwear pummelling the floor, fans are whipping their heads about, raising horns and fists in time with Tom Rossell's relentless drumming.
Frankenbok - image © Clea-marie Thorne
Their new banger from the 'Irrepressible' EP, 'iWOKE' is hitting just as hard live as anything from their back catalogue. I am a witness that Frankenbok's fire is far from fading. Owen Spratling's bass rumbles through the venue like an earthquake, rattling through our bodies as the band pushes the energy higher.
Glynn doesn't let up, prowling the stage and facing off with punters in the front row as they launch into 'The Fallen Phoenix'. The track's crushing grooves and soaring leads from the only other OG, Aaron Butler, send ripples through the room, the crowd responding in kind with a mix of furious head-banging and raised fists.
Frankenbok have that perfect blend of chaos and control – tight as hell, but never predictable, always throwing in that extra bit of live ferocity that keeps the fans hooked. After we are asked to show allegiance to either Different Strokes or Family Ties, 'We're Not The Drummonds' drops, and the energy somehow spikes even higher. McDougall eggs the crowd on, and they answer, screaming back the lyrics as if it's a battle cry. It's sweaty, it's raw, and it's exactly the kind of set Frankenbok excels at – no bullsh.t, just pure, unrelenting metal.
Closing out with 'Static Wings', the band leaves nothing in the tank. The final, crushing riffs ring out as the crowd erupts in cheers, a few bodies still moving in the pit, unwilling to let the moment go. Frankenbok may have been the openers tonight, but they've set the bar impossibly high and their set list is fresh!
Frankenbok - image © Clea-marie Thorne
The room is buzzing, and if this is just the start of the night, Brisbane is in for one hell of a ride. Drowning Pool drummer, Mike Luce appears first claiming his riser like a throne before hammering out a mini solo on the tubs. He's igniting the energy in The Princess Theatre and as Stevie Benton and C.J. Pierce stride onto the stage, they're instantly met with a deafening roar.
I reckon things just cranked to eleven. It's like the whole room has been holding its breath, waiting for that first punch of heavy riffs and pounding drums. Ryan McCombs emerges, and before anyone has a second to take a breath, Pierce lets rip into 'Sinner', the tension snaps, and the crowd surges forward, voices raised in a unified roar.
McCombs prowls the stage, his presence commanding as he launches into these first set of lyrics with a fire that is burning our ears. Rolling straight into 'Enemy', the band barely gives the audience a second to catch their breath, and they don't seem to want one. Bass and drums are locked into an unshakable groove, thick and relentless, as bodies slam together in the pit.
Drowning Pool - image © Clea-marie Thorne
The heat is already rising, sweat glistening under the stage lights, and it's only getting started. Encouraged to "step-up!", we do. From when the very first notes of 'Step Up' hit, the room is practically exploding. This is a call to arms, and the crowd answers with fists in the air, voices raw from screaming along.
McCombs stalks the edge of the stage, feeding off the energy as Pierce's riffs cut through like a buzzsaw. The sheer volume of bodies moving is enough to make the floor tremble, a living, breathing mass locked into the pulse of the music.
With 'One Finger And A Fist', the band leans into pure aggression, each riff hitting like a sledgehammer. It's a track that demands movement, and the crowd obliges – heads banging, shoulders colliding, sweat flying. The relentless momentum doesn't let up as they shift into '37 Stitches', offering a brief but powerful shift in energy. The room, still electric, sways with the melody, lighters and phone screens flickering like distant stars before the next sonic wave crashes in.
Then comes a twist – Drowning Pool's take on Billy Idol’s 'Rebel Yell'. It's unexpected but hits perfectly, giving everyone a moment to belt out the chorus with reckless abandon. McCombs' delivery is raw and impassioned, and the band's heavier edge turns it into a beast of its own. The crowd is eating it up, dancing and shouting the lyrics back with grins plastered across their faces.
The shift back to 'Feel Like I Do' keeps the momentum rolling, its grooves uniting and pulling fans into a hypnotic sway, but the pit is still alive, bodies pushing and pulling like waves against a jagged shore line.
Drowning Pool - image © Clea-marie Thorne
Then, 'Sermon' drops like a hammer, a darker, brooding moment that adds a sinister weight to the set. It's one of those tracks that seeps into the bones, and the crowd stands entranced, drinking in every note before the inevitable eruption that follows.
'Tear Away' is a gut punch of emotion and power, and by this point, the venue feels like it might burst at the seams. The band is locked in tight, every note, every scream hitting just right. Then, they throw down a wild curveball – although it's only a short nod to Pantera's 'Cowboys From Hell' it's a sonic riot, for a tiny tribute and sends the energy levels through the roof before the unmistakable riff kicks in, and the entire room detonates to 'Bodies'.
This is isn't just a song on a set list; it's an event, a war cry, an exorcism of every ounce of energy left in the building. When McCombs snarls: "Let the bodies hit the floor," we respond in kind, a deafening explosion of voices and motion. The pit becomes a storm, bodies colliding, the walls dripping with sweat, the kind of moment that feels like pure, unfiltered catharsis.
When McCombs gets amongst the crowd in the pit it is pure chaos, a whirling mass of flailing limbs and sweat-drenched hair, the fans losing their minds in the best way possible. We are left breathless, spent but exhilarated, adrenaline coursing through our veins. Drowning Pool came to dominate, and they did exactly that.
As the fans wipe sweat from their brows and brace themselves for the next act, one thing is clear – Alien Ant Farm (AFF) have their work cut out for them trying to follow this storm of sound and fury.
Like the absolute rockstars they are, AFF stroll onstage and from the get-go, it's clear they know exactly how to work a crowd. After the absolute chaos of Drowning Pool, an electric anticipation buzzes through the room – everyone's sweaty, pumped, and ready for this round; and man, AAF deliver.
Alien Ant Farm - image © Clea-marie Thorne
Without hesitation, they rip into 'Courage', the punchy opening riff setting the tone as Dryden Mitchell steps up to the mic with effortless confidence. The energy is immediate, the crowd already chanting back the chorus, and just like that, the main set is off to a roaring start.
They waste no time launching into 'Wish', its searing guitars pushing the tempo higher, fuelling a fresh surge in the pit. Terry Corso's riffs cut through the air like a buzzsaw, while Timmy Peugh's basslines rattle the floorboards. Mike Cosgrove holds it all together with tight, dynamic drumming, keeping the momentum relentless.
'Flesh And Bone' follows, its darker, brooding tones washing over the room, drawing the crowd into a hypnotic sway before snapping them back to life with the raw punch of 'The Wrong Things' – a track that sees Mitchell pacing the stage, engaging every corner of the room with a mischievous grin.
Alien Ant Farm - image © Clea-marie Thorne
When the unmistakable intro to 'Movies' kicks in, the room practically levitates. A wave of nostalgia crashes over the punters, hands fly into the air, and voices unite in a full-throated sing-along. It's a moment – one of those rare, unfiltered connections between band and audience, where every person in the venue is locked into the same euphoric rhythm.
'These Days' keeps the high alive, its anthemic chorus blasting through the speakers as Mitchell leans into the mic, smirking as he lets the fans scream the lyrics back at him. The energy dips just slightly for 'Last dAntz', but it's more of a controlled burn – a chance for the band to flex their musicianship while giving everyone a breath before the night's next surge.
Alien Ant Farm - image © Clea-marie Thorne
'Attitude' brings the groove back in force, the bassline rumbling through the floor as Mitchell's vocals glide over the melody, a smooth contrast to the jagged edge of 'Stranded' that follows. There's an undeniable chemistry between the band members, each one playing off the other's energy, their decades of experience turning the set into something both polished and spontaneous.
'Glow' sees Corso stepping forward, riffing with a fiery intensity that ignites the crowd once more, while 'What Am I Doing' feels like a deep cut gem, a nod to the die-hard fans who hang onto every word.
Alien Ant Farm - image © Clea-marie Thorne
By the time 'Storms Over' and 'Sticks And Stones' hit, the night has fully transformed into a relentless roller coaster of sound. The pit is a swirling mass of movement, fists pounding the air, bodies colliding in joyful chaos. Mitchell soaks it all in between songs, tossing out jokes, flashing his signature grin, making the massive room feel like an intimate club gig.
The band briefly exits, but no one is fooled – the encore is inevitable. When they return, the opening chords of 'What I Feel Is Mine' send another jolt through the room. The deep-cut energy is intoxicating, pulling the crowd into one last round of unhinged movement.
Then, as if the night couldn't peak any higher, the unmistakable opening of 'Smooth Criminal' slices through the air. The reaction is instantaneous. Bodies launch skyward, arms flail, and every single voice in the venue erupts in unison. It's an explosion of pure, unfiltered nostalgia, yet played with the precision and hunger of a band still at the top of their game.
As the band waves their goodbyes and throws set lists, drum sticks and the like to fans, there's this charged feeling in the air – like everyone here just shared a wild, unrepeatable moment that won't hit the same way ever again.
Image © Clea-marie Thorne
Frankenbok sure set the tone, Drowning Pool turned the place into a madhouse, and Alien Ant Farm wrapped it all up in the perfect nostalgic, high-energy sing-along. As I make my wait out still buzzing, still sweating, still grinning, I know that whatever just hit Brisbane wasn't just a gig, it was a full-blown reckoning.
