Review & Photography by Manny Manson for MPM
The rain lashed down over Birmingham, soaking everything as fans huddled under whatever cover they could find outside the BP Pulse Arena.
Umbrellas were useless against the relentless downpour, puddles reflecting the flickering lights from the Resorts World Casino complex opposite, and the glint of battle vests adorned with decades of metal patches. No one cared about the weather. Inside was where the storm really awaited, another sold-out show, a boiling cauldron of leather, denim, and unbridled anticipation. The air inside was thick with sweat, stale beer, and the promise of carnage. This was a gathering of the metal faithful, ready to be torn apart by the onslaught of King Parrot, Power Trip, and the mighty Pantera.
First up were King Parrot, the Australian Grindcore maniacs whose reputation for chaos precedes them. With a discography that includes the ferocious Bite Your Head Off (2012), Dead Set (2015), and Ugly Produce (2017), they’ve carved out a name for themselves with a relentless touring schedule and a refusal to play it safe. Tonight was no different. As the intro tape rolled—none other than Kevin Bloody Wilson’s “Absolute Cunt of a Day”, the crowd howled along with the expletive laden chorus. Seconds later, King Parrot exploded onto the stage.
Frontman Matt ‘Youngy’ Young, an unhinged whirlwind, eyes wild as he screeched and threw himself into the set with reckless abandon. Ari ‘Mr White’ White and Squiz battered their guitars like they owed them money, while Slatts, shirtless, beer belly swinging, pounded out bass lines that rattled ribcages. Behind them, Toddy assaulted the drums like he was trying to cave them in, his eyes glazed over in a killer stare.
The set was pure, unfiltered mayhem. The set kicked off with “Get What Ya Given” this is a new song from the forthcoming album “A Young Persons Guide To” (targeted for a June 2025 release) opened the floodgates, seemingly sending bodies flying. “Epileptic Butcher” (Bite Your Head Off, 2012) upped the ante, Youngy practically foaming at the mouth.
By the time they launched into “Disgrace Yourself” (Ugly Produce, 2017), the crowd was a writhing mess of bouncing limbs and sweat. Youngy, never one to stay put, hurled himself around the front of the stage, mic cord trailing as he barked lyrics seemingly inches from stunned fans faces. Closing with the venomous “Shit on the Liver” (Bite Your Head Off, 2012) and “Fuck You and the Horse You Rode in On” the first single from the aforementioned new release, (A Young Persons Guide To, 2025), they left the stage not so much having played a set as having detonated a bomb. The arena was wrecked, and this was just the beginning.
Next up were Power Trip, the Texan thrash juggernaut that had become synonymous with modern thrash’s resurgence before the tragic passing of frontman Riley Gale. With seminal albums Manifest Decimation (2013) and Nightmare Logic (2017), Power Trip channelled the raw energy of old-school thrash with a modern bite.
Tonight, they were a force of nature, relentless, vicious, and utterly unyielding. It’s worth noting that we weren’t allowed to photograph their set, a shame, given the ferocity on display, however, now strategically placed and an espionage worthy sneaky look into the arena, the sights and sounds could be tasted.
Opening with the juggernaut “Soul Sacrifice” (Nightmare Logic, 2017), they hit the stage like a freight train. The pit, already battered from King Parrot, is now, no doubt a cyclone of bodies, fists, and sweat. “Executioner’s Tax (Swing of the Axe)” (Nightmare Logic, 2017) brought a wave of headbanging, that signature riff like a call to arms, while “Firing Squad” (from the same album) tore through the arena with breakneck speed.
The band’s chemistry was undeniable, every riff razor-sharp, every beat a sledgehammer. “Hornet’s Nest” (Hornet’s Nest single, 2018(Adult Swims Singles Collection)) stung with biting precision, followed by the title track “Nightmare Logic,” another single, and the title track from the 2017 release. Its crushing grooves turning the crowd into a writhing sea.
Drown (Crucifixation)” (Manifest Decimation, 2013) dragged things into darker territory, grinding and oppressive, before the double salvo of “Waiting Around to Die” (2017) and “Manifest Decimation” (title track from 2013) closed their set in a haze of chaos and adrenaline. Power Trip attacked, no doubt leaving a wake of destruction and a crowd gasping for breath.
And then… it was time. The lights dimmed, conversations died, and that inevitable, tangible electricity charged the air. The stage was shrouded by a massive curtain emblazoned with PANTERA, two syllables that still command reverence. The video screens flanking the stage flickered to life, paying tribute to the fallen titans, brothers, Dimebag Darrell and Vinnie Paul, their grinning faces beaming down in a montage of footage that tugged at the heartstrings.
The crowd roared its appreciation, some raising beers, others throwing horns skyward. As “Regular People (Conceit)” rumbled through the PA and the eerie strains of “In Heaven (Lady in the Radiator Song)” seeped into the room, the tension was simply unbearable.
Then, BOOM! The curtain dropped. “A New Level” (Vulgar Display of Power, 1992) erupted from the speakers. Phil Anselmo, barefoot and snarling, stalked the stage, his voice a venomous snarl that belied the years. This wasn’t nostalgia, it was more a declaration of war.
Flames shot skyward, searing the front rows as Zakk Wylde, wielding his lightning bolt guitar like a battle axe, unleashed solos that didn’t mimic Dimebag’s iconic style but reimagined them through his own feral lens, whammy dives, squeals, and wild bends delivered with a ferocity all his own. Rex Brown, stoic and thunderous, anchored the chaos, while Charlie Benante laid down a percussive assault that sent shockwaves through the arena. His kit, emblazoned with images of Dime and Vinnie, felt like a spiritual link to the brothers lost.
The set flowed like a juggernaut. “Mouth For War” followed, (another from 1992), as thousands of voices screamed in unison. “Strength Beyond Strength” (from Far Beyond Driven 1994) was a sonic pummelling, Anselmo’s guttural roars shaking the rafters. When they hit “Becoming,” (also from Far Beyond Driven 1994), Wylde’s squealing harmonics sliced through the mix, with the outro nodding to “Throes of Rejection.” “I’m Broken” (from Far Beyond Driven 1994), turned the arena into a choir of rage, fists punching skyward, while “By Demons Be Driven” teased its way into the outro like a creeping shadow. “Suicide Note Pt. II” (The Great Southern Trendkill, 1996) was pure chaos; Benante’s double kicks rattled bones, Anselmo’s delivery … venomous. “5 Minutes Alone”? (from Far Beyond Driven 1994), Forget it, the floor dissolved into a pit of bodies, every lyric shouted back with feral intensity.
And then came “This Love.” (Vulgar Display of Power, 1992). Menacing. Beautiful. Terrifying. The crowd’s singalong was deafening, Anselmo letting them carry the chorus before the band slammed back in with punishing force. “Floods” (The Great Southern Trendkill, 1996), once again saw Wylde step into the spotlight, his extended solo soaring, notes bending and crying as flames flickered, the arena lit in a fiery glow that mirrored the song’s molten beauty. “Walk” (Vulgar Display of Power, 1992) was a war chant, the entire arena stomping and shouting as two lucky fans joined Phil on stage, one wielding a cardboard cutout of Dime’s guitar.
Domination” (Cowboys from Hell 1990) merged seamlessly into “Hollow,” (Vulgar Display of Power, 1992) the dynamic shifts between groove-laden crush and melodic sorrow hitting just as hard as ever. Closing the main set with the infamous, “Cowboys from Hell” the title track from the seminal 1990 album, unleashed pandemonium, flames, fists, sweat, and pure chaos.
The encore was no reprieve. “Fucking Hostile” (Vulgar Display of Power, 1992) detonated like a bomb; an adrenaline-fuelled blitzkrieg that left throats raw. Midway through, a cheeky snippet of “Mississippi Queen” slipped in, you could sense Wylde grinning beneath his Wylde hair and beard, as he riffed, before plunging back into the carnage. “Revolution Is My Name” capped the night, a farewell nod to the bands final album featuring the original line up of Dimebag, Vinnie, Rex and Phil, Reinventing the Steel (2000) and a surprise tour debut that sent the faithful into a final frantic meltdown.
As, no doubt ears bled as the last screaming notes faded, Anselmo raised a beer to the sky, Wylde and Brown saluted the crowd, and Benante tossed his sticks into the sea of hands. The arena, now a battlefield of spent bodies and ringing ears, glowed with the afterburn of a truly legendary night. Outside, the rain still fell, indifferent to what had just transpired within those walls. Inside? Legends were honoured and memories were forged in sweat and fire, R.I.P. Dime and Vinnie!.
Pantera dominated; it was a goddamn warzone. And everyone lucky enough to be there wouldn’t have it any other way. Gig of the year, Hell Yeah!
