As I walk into The Tivoli, the Brisbane heat is already sitting low and heavy. Black tees are clinging. Old scars and faded tribal-neck tattoos are everywhere.
The room is filling with that familiar hum of people who are not here to be impressed. They're here to be rattled. Three bands, three very different kinds of musical violence, all stacked into one Brisbane box that is slowly cooking from the inside out (26 January).
Snot hit the stage first and immediately drag the room back into loose late '90s chaos. Baggy riffs. Zero polish. Nothing precious. There is release spreading through the room. Fists in the pit are immediately punching the air as the set is rolling straight into 'Snot'.
'Stoopid' and 'Joy Ride' start lurching the groove forward, pulling the room with it. This is not nostalgia cosplay. This is lived-in, dented and loud. The sound is thick and ugly in the best way, feeling worn rather than revived.
Snot - image © Clea-marie Thorne
Muscle memory is kicking in and landing hard, especially for a crowd that has waited over a decade to see this band on Australian soil again. Mike Doling (guitar) and Mike Deleon (guitar) lock into that unmistakable Snot swing, riffs lurching rather than charging.
John 'Tumor' Fahnestock (bass) keeps the low end loose and filthy. Heads are snapping. Lyrics are getting yelled. Everyone moving on instinct rather than rules. 'The Box' sounds thick and blunt.
'Snooze Button' and 'Get Some' keep things raw and unpolished. Jamie Miller (drums) is driving everything with controlled chaos. Andy Knapp (vocals) steps into an impossible space with confidence and restraint, not mimicking Lynn Strait but honouring the shape he left behind. With whispers of new material, fans can get excited for it.
'Deadfall' and 'Tecato' lean into that low-slung stomp, while 'My Balls' and 'Absent' push the room deeper into sweat-soaked chaos. Everything feels slightly out of control; the heat is climbing, and the floor is slick from sweat and spilled bevos. People are grinning through it, but you can tell the break is most welcome.
Snot - image © Clea-marie Thorne
Nailbomb are next and shift the atmosphere instantly. The looseness disappears. The room tightens. This is pressure music. Industrial grind welded to thrash, stripped of warmth and intentioned for discomfort. Witnessing Nailbomb live feels rare and unreal.
'Wasting Away' and '24 Hour Bullsh.t' land confrontational and blunt. Travis Stone (guitar) cuts through the mix with precision and sharp attack. Alex Cha (sampler) layers the industrial textures that make the 'Point Blank' material hit like a machine.
Meanwhile, the thread that binds the three bands on the line-up, Max Cavalera (vocals, guitar), is pulling serious double duty tonight. He's pacing himself without ever stepping back. Igor Amadeus Cavalera (guitar, vocals) is reinforcing the bloodline with discipline and restraint. 'Guerillas' is followed by 'Blind And Lost'; Igor is a live wire of energy on the stage.
Nailbomb - image © Clea-marie Thorne
'Sum Of Your Achievements' and 'Cockroaches' lean fully into discomfort. It is loud, punishing and unapologetically ugly, exactly as hoped. Adam Jarvis (drums) is driving the entire thing with precision throughout, locking the room into a relentless forward grind.
Jackie Cruz (bass) holds her own as the centre of the storm, low end thick and unyielding, cutting through the chaos with authority and presence that gives the set its physical weight. Damn, girl!
The 'Point Blank' material lands hard and mechanical, each beat feeling confrontational rather than inviting, demanding endurance. This is not a collection of songs so much as sustained impact.
'Religious Cancer' reshapes the pit, the only real break in the assault marked by a snarled "f... ICE!" locking the set's politics firmly ahead of 'World Of Sh.t'. Less bouncing. More bracing and absorbing the noise rather than throwing themselves into it, except for those wedged dead centre who are choosing chaos anyway.
Nailbomb - image © Clea-marie Thorne
The heat is now oppressive. The air is barely moving as they close out with ‘Sick Life'. Breathing is work. Nailbomb do not offer escape. They hold the room captive with this first-ever Australian tour and this first-ever Brisbane performance.
Another intermission, then Soulfly close the night. Shapes are cutting through the smoke as The Tivoli stops feeling like a theatre and starts behaving like something else entirely.
'Indigenous Inquisition' taster and 'Storm The Gates' lead the charge, brutal and grounded, sitting comfortably beside 'No Hope = No Fear' and 'Seek 'n' Strike' without feeling like obligations.
Max Cavalera (vocals, guitar) is commanding without excess, keeping words minimal and letting the grooves do the work. No filler. No wasted motion. The touring line-up is locked in behind him.
Chase Bryant (bass) anchors the low end with clarity and weight. Zyon Cavalera (drums) is relentless, driving everything forward without mercy. This lad is a bio-mechanical drum machine. Intense. Insanely good! The 'Chama' tracks (in full or partial) are landing heavier than expected live.
Soulfly - image © Clea-marie Thorne
'Prophecy', 'Fire' and 'Bumbklaatt' keep the momentum locked. Max giving as much energy into set two as he did for Nailbomb. If he runs out, the crowd has got him. There's so much charged electricity floating around this venue right now.
'No Pain = No Power' hits as a clear favourite, sounding physical and confrontational rather than forced. 'Back To The Primitive' flips the room into full call-and-response chaos.
When 'Chama' hits mid-set, it feels earned. 'Favela/Dystopia' and 'Tribe' both stomp hard, with 'Tribe' lifting the roof through shouted declarations of "your tribe, our tribe, your life, our life" – jumping is becoming compulsory rather than optional.
Soulfly - image © Clea-marie Thorne
'Nihilist' strips everything back to hostility. 'Bleed' lands as a genuine moment, with Richie Cavalera (guest vocals) stepping in and reinforcing the lineage running through the night. It is not flashy. It is earned. 'Pain' keeps the pressure on before the final release.
There is barely time to breathe. The room is being coaxed into a crouch before the command to jump is given. The 'Jumpdaf...up' chant is roaring, used only as an intro and outro warm-up before we bolt head-on into 'Eye For An Eye'.
The closer detonates the venue. Everyone is airborne. The heat is suffocating. Whatever energy is left is being emptied right here. There is barely enough oxygen to answer the final "Soulfly!" calls as the band says thank you and leaves the stage.
Three bands. Three eras. Three different ways of delivering heaviness, all landing for different reasons. Snot brought reckless looseness. Nailbomb the confrontation. Soulfly the ritual, optimism, intensity and social commentary wrapped in groove.
Soulfly - image © Clea-marie Thorne
This night is not about perfection. It is about sweat, volume and walking out with your ears ringing for the right reasons. There is a deeper thread running through this line-up than volume alone. Crossover culture playing out in real time. Projects splintering, reforming and mutating across decades. Musicians carrying ideas between bands and between generations on the same night.
Nailbomb sit as the most confrontational offshoot – industrial, political and abrasive, but they're not standing apart. They're feeding into the same ecosystem that drives Soulfly's tribal aggression and Snot's late '90s nihilism. Snot could not have chosen a better frontman to carry Lynn Strait's legacy forward. The respect is obvious and it lands.
This is not three sets back to back. It is watching interconnected histories collide in one overheated room, labour and lineage bleeding across projects and generations of Cavalera bloodlines across the night. It is a convergence built for Soulfly family and the extended Soulfly tribe.
