Forerunners of hypermetal, I See Stars have finally made it back down under after 14 long bloody years, and Brisbane is losing its collective mind.
The Triffid's heaving before the doors even open (17 October), punters packed in tight like it's the end of the world (not just sold out) and this is the last gig standing.
Sweat is already hanging in the air like mist under street lights. You can feel that restless twitch, that low-level electricity humming through everyone, all of us itching to be blasted by digital chaos and heart-punch emotion.
Kicking off proceedings is The Local Romance, Brisbane's uni project that grew legs and kept running with heavy alt-rock and metal strides.
Striding onstage, the four piece seem to be holding in their own excitement as opener 'Are You Somewhere' cracks open our night of live music. Punters are instantly fired up by their energy. Phones are out, heads bobbing, bodies moving.
In no time 'Valentine' crashes open, all urgent drums and catchy hooks flecked with hip-gyrating rhythms. I like it a lot. Zeph (vocals) is howling his lungs out, with Caelan (drums) thundering behind him, Matthew (bass) locking it tight, and Kyle (guitar) shredding with a sneer.
The Last Romance - image © Clea-marie Thorne
They've got a chemistry that feels like they've been born into it as both we and they embrace 'Valentine', proving they're all about big choruses and heartfelt breakdowns, slick hooks cutting through the chatter.
'Datura' is as heavy as it is new, dripping with angst and sweat, building into a mosh that sees fists raised high. 'Rescue Me', their recent release, hits next, soaked in that post-hardcore sincerity that has Zeph's voice cracking in just the right spots to pour out some raw vulnerability.
'Be The One' drops with a sing-along that feels like a full-body exhale. The crowd's giving a rowdy thanks, like we're all cheering for four mates we've known for years.
Now comes Elijah. Lights cutting to red, low bass rumbling through the floor as 'Skin' opens, a tense slow burn that builds into a storm of heartbreak and defiance.
Elijah - image © Clea-marie Thorne
Elijah's vocals shift from silky croon to a full-throated roar, every line cutting through like a confession. The electro tint on the vocals is minimal, and it makes the live sound hit harder.
'Easy To Drown' follows, melancholic and darkly anthemic, the crowd swaying, eyes closed, feeling every lyric. The choir of punters piping up: "I think I'm gonna fall apart from the inside out, I've been screaming in my head but I don't make a sound." The screams around me sound like a mix of cat wails and pig squeals. Classic Brisbane chaos!
Next, 'Virus' infects the room with programmed pulses and distorted beats, while 'Victim' slams with an industrial grit, his voice cracking with raw emotion. 'Guilty' closes the first half with its haunting chorus, fans yelling it back word for word before the band walks offstage, leaving the room humming.
When they return, Elijah's grinning and he laughs, introducing two unreleased tracks and talking Aussie time zones, chortling how "we're in the future here".
'How It Starts' is the first new song, the band off to the side letting Elijah own the space. It's moody and intimate, his vocals aching over soft electronic layering that spills out like a diary entry of manipulation and betrayal.
Elijah - image © Clea-marie Thorne
The next newbie 'Grip' drops on us. It's all bass-heavy, glitchy, and freaking huge. The crowd's losing it, phones are up again, soaking in something special before it's even released commercially.
We get band introductions followed by a filthy drum solo. Elijah's calling out: "Show me how crazy Brisbane gets!" The pit opens in an instant, and 'I Don't Give A!' detonates.
The room erupts in screams and motion, fingers and fists punctuating every lyric floating in the air. More bodies surf hands to the barrier. "Pick your side Brisbane, move your ass!" he yells, motioning for a wall of death, and everyone obeys.
The bass is hitting harder and harder as he barks: "F...ing *****, let's go!" signalling to the band to smash us with 'Underrated'. The chorus pure catharsis, fans shouting "don't disappoint me!" like it's gospel.
'Human' slows things down just enough to breathe, the crowd still buzzing but swaying, voices soft and ragged. The band steps aside again, Elijah closing with 'Harder To Lie', a heavy, emotional finisher leaving the room stunned into silence before the final cheer.
Equal parts heartbreak and chaos, it's a perfect storm of modern angst and unfiltered showmanship. Elijah would be mad not to come back and headline an Australian run. This crowd will show up.
Another break. Another pause to people watch, to listen to the chatter, the cockatoo squawks and deep belly laughs of the tipsy merry folk. When the lights cut again, that cyber pulse humms through the room.
I See Stars - image © Clea-marie Thorne
First on the stage is touring drummer Dakota Sammons (drums) who takes his seat at the kit beneath the red and black band backdrop hanging from the back wall. Next are the core four. Brent Allen (guitar), Jeff Valentine (bass), joined by brothers Andrew Oliver (keyboards, programming, clean vocals) and Dean Oliver (vocals), the headliner's enigmatic frontman.
The Triffid's roaring before the recording of 'Spin It' is finished spinning 'The Wheel' into life while we are bathed in blood red lights. The opener has futuristic synths slicing through the air before the drop hits, as bodies start moving like circuitry coming alive.
'Running With Scissors' rips next, that perfect blend of chaos and clarity, Andrew's cleans floating over Dean's screams like light and shadow colliding. 'Drift' slides in, the crowd swaying, eyes half-closed, caught in that dreamlike trance.
I See Stars - image © Clea-marie Thorne
'Break' slams in after it, bass vibrating through the floor while Allen's riffs grind and flash like steel. 'Ten Thousand Feet' sends voices soaring, the chorus feeling massive enough to shake the rust off the curved dome roof above us.
'New Demons' is followed by 'Yellow King' before 'White Lies' rolls through like a digital storm, melodic, heavy, emotional and unstoppable. The red lights, the blue lights and flashing spots disorienting add to the vibe.
'D4MAGE DONE' turns the room into carnage, a mosh pit tearing open dead centre, limbs flailing, faces glowing in the intermittent flashes of light. Crowd surfers becoming more frequent.
'Filth Friends Unite' is followed by 'Eliminator', then 'Are We 3ven?' glitches the energy back up, that signature I See Stars bounce infecting every muscle in the room.
I See Stars - image © Clea-marie Thorne
'Split' feels like it's pulling emotions straight out of your chest. That clean/ scream switch is feral. Andrew's soaring lines sound fragile against Dean's destruction. Two extremes crashing until it's hard to tell which one's more human.
Still bringing the emotion, 'Carry On For You' follows only to break hearts. A gut punch of melody, Andrew's voice trembling, the whole band softening the edges like it hurts to play it. It's quiet devastation.
'What This Means To Me' crashes down like an old trauma you didn't know you'd kept buried. Then comes 'Murder Mitten', the song that still hits hard, written for their mum and family. It's brutal and beautiful, Dean's gutturals melting into Andrew's smooth synth glaze. You can feel the family weight in Dean's delivery. Rage. Grief. Love. All tangled and screaming.
'Calm Snow's quiet ache settles over us like fog, every note hanging in the air before it crystallises. It's the taste of delicate dishonesty like the whisper of frost before it freezes into the hard shards of truth in its chorus. Some fans are frozen in it, their silent mouths open.
I See Stars - image © Clea-marie Thorne
Their final track, 'Anomaly', wraps up the night, no real encore ritual to speak of. The room's collective explosion seeing fans singing "Anomaly, I’m an anomaly," back to the band like they're exorcising something. When it's over, the noise doesn't die straight away. Everyone's standing wrecked but grinning, sweat dripping down faces lit by blue LEDs.
Four blokes from Michigan just turned The Triffid into a glitching cathedral of sound. Metal and emotion rewired into something cosmic. Before the stars fade from sight, a band and crowd shot seals the energy exchange.
After 14 years, I See Stars aren't just returning, they're rebooting. Brisbane willingly surrendered to the voltage they unleashed, judging from the half-stunned looks on the faces of punters stumbling out beside me.
More photos from the concert.
