Review & Photography ny Nathan Vestal for MPM
On the evening of April 29, 2025, The Forge in Joliet was the epicenter of a spectacular convergence of goth, industrial, and metal music fans.
The night was set ablaze by a lineup that promised to deliver intense performances and memorable moments. Headlined by the illustrious Wednesday 13, with support from the avant-garde I Ya Toyah, the ferocious Dead Rabbitts, and the formidable Stitched Up Heart, the concert was a testament to the enduring power of the alternative music scene.
The Anticipation Builds
The air was filled with electricity long before the first note was struck. Fans, clad in an array of gothic and metal attire, lined up outside The Forge, each individual a testament to representing the diverse and dedicated followings that these bands command. Conversations buzzed with excitement and speculation about the setlists and surprise elements that the night might hold. The Forge, known for its intimate setting and superb acoustics, was the perfect venue for such an event, promising an up-close and personal experience with the artists
I Ya Toyah: A Haunting Beginning
Opening acts often face the uphill battle of commanding attention before the night’s chaos fully ignites. But when I Ya Toyah took the stage at The Forge, it was as though a bolt of lightning shot through the venue, instantly transforming idle anticipation into stunned engagement. With nothing but a mic, a rig of synthesizers, looping gear, and sheer force of will, she filled the room with a soundscape that felt vast, cinematic, and undeniably alive.
Having followed I Ya Toyah’s career for nearly six years, it was both surreal and deeply satisfying to see her command a stage like this. What began as curiosity—one artist challenging the industrial genre’s male-dominated legacy with sincerity and technical finesse—has evolved into an awe-inspiring solo force. I’ve watched her go from small club sets and DIY festivals to becoming a fiercely independent presence in the dark electronic scene, and tonight’s performance felt like a milestone in that journey.
Her set blurred the line between human and machine, weaving gritty electronic beats with piercing synth melodies and vocals that oscillated between haunting vulnerability and fierce defiance. Songs like “Panic Room” and “Pray” were not just performed—they were sculpted in real time, built layer by layer with loops that pulsed and twisted like circuitry coming to life.
Visually, she was a striking figure—draped in cybernetic fashion, accented by glowing lights and glitchy projections. The aesthetic wasn’t just for show; it was an extension of her music’s themes: isolation, inner conflict, and defiance in a world that feels increasingly digitized and disconnected. Her movements, deliberate and emotive, played off the dissonant textures and heavy basslines in a way that felt choreographed not for style, but for storytelling.
But what has always set I Ya Toyah apart for me—whether hearing her in headphones late at night or watching her evolve over the years—is the emotional honesty beneath all the machines. She doesn’t hide behind her gear; she uses it to amplify raw, human emotion. Her voice—unfiltered, powerful, cracked in the right places—carried both a warning and a plea, calling out themes of mental health struggles, societal collapse, and the universal desire for connection.
The crowd, many of whom were experiencing her for the first time, responded in kind. Heads nodded, bodies swayed, and by the end of her set, she wasn’t just the opener anymore—she was a revelation. I overheard more than one person ask her name on the way to the merch table.
As someone who’s championed her music for years, it was affirming to see that spark catch fire in real time. In a lineup full of heavy weights and theatrical excess, I Ya Toyah stood out by doing what she’s always done: stripping the genre down to its core and building it back up with authenticity, urgency, and heart.
Dead Rabbitts: Catharsis and Chaos with a Melodic Edge
Following the ethereal cyber-industrial pulse of I Ya Toyah, Dead Rabbitts wasted no time tearing into the stage with a blast of unrelenting energy. Led by the ever-charismatic Craig Mabbitt—best known as the voice of Escape the Fate—this side project has carved out its own path in the metalcore scene, fusing gut-punching heaviness with anthemic hooks and emotional grit. Their set at The Forge was nothing short of a sonic exorcism.
Kicking off with the ferocious “Raisehell.exe,” the band established their tone immediately: emotionally raw, brutally honest, and instrumentally tight. Mabbitt, flanked by a furious rhythm section and a snarling guitar, was a whirlwind of movement and emotion. Mabbitt’s transitions from unhinged growls to soaring, melodic choruses were seamless, and the passion behind every lyric felt intense—almost like he was reliving the pain and catharsis of each song in real time.
The setlist pulled from multiple eras of the band’s evolution, including fan-favorite tracks like “Deer in the Headlights” and “Mistake.” These weren’t just nostalgic moments—they were war cries. The crowd responded with immediate intensity: fists in the air, bodies colliding in small mosh pits, and choruses screaming back at full volume. There’s something distinctly unfiltered about a Dead Rabbitts show—it feels like a therapy session conducted at 120 decibels.
Musically, the band was airtight. The lead guitar work cut through the chaos with tastefully blistering solos, while the drummer drove each song with relentless energy and precision. The sharpness to their sound didn’t feel overly produced, just refined—a product of both experience and intent.
Perhaps the most unexpected moment of their set came with “Oxygen,” a slower, more emotionally charged track that offered a brief pause in the chaos. It was haunting, almost serene, and showed a different side of the band—vulnerable, stripped-back, and deeply resonant. It’s not often that a metalcore band can shift gears so drastically without losing momentum, but Dead Rabbitts pulled it off effortlessly.
For fans of Mabbitt’s more mainstream work, this set was a welcome reminder of his range and fire. For newcomers, it was an invitation into a darker, more personal world where melody and aggression walk hand in hand. And for everyone in the room, it was a brutal, beautiful reminder of why this genre still matters.
Dead Rabbitts didn’t just play their set—they owned it. Despite the masks, the performance gave no theatrics, no gimmicks, just raw emotion delivered at full throttle. In a night full of diverse sonic identities, they were the embodiment of cathartic chaos, and it hit exactly the way it needed to.
Stitched Up Heart: Commanding Power and Connection
As the night progressed, Stitched Up Heart took the stage and brought with them a powerful shift in emotional tone. Where Dead Rabbitts had torn through the venue with raw intensity, Stitched Up Heart layered that energy with melody, introspection, and cinematic grandeur. The band has long walked the line between gothic edge and radio-ready hard rock, but in this live setting, their music hit with a new kind of force—gritty, elegant, and deeply human.
Led by the magnetic Alecia “Mixi” Demner, the band entered to swirling lights and an ominous intro track, before launching into a thunderous rendition of “This Skin.” From the first note, Mixi’s presence was undeniable—commanding the crowd with a voice that ranged from silken softness to a full-throated roar. Her emotional delivery wasn’t just performed—it felt lived-in, as if each lyric carried the weight of battles already fought.
The band’s chemistry was tight and polished without feeling over-rehearsed. Guitarist Merritt Goodwin laid down soaring leads and chunky, down-tuned riffs, while the rhythm section delivered punch and momentum in equal measure. Songs like “My Demon” and “Lost” felt like modern anthems of resilience, delivered with conviction and a genuine sense of connection. These weren’t just tracks—they were affirmations, echoing through the room like rallying cries for everyone carrying unseen wounds.
Mixi’s interaction with the audience was especially notable. Between songs, she expressed gratitude and humility, speaking candidly about mental health, the struggles behind the music, and the healing power of art. Her sincerity was disarming—this wasn’t posturing or scripted banter. When she encouraged the crowd to sing along or to “keep fighting through the dark,” it didn’t feel like a performance—it felt like community.
Visually, the band played into the darker aesthetic their name suggests, with dramatic lighting, shadowy backdrops, and gothic-inspired attire. But while the look was dark, the overall feeling was one of light breaking through—empowerment rather than despair. Tracks like “Sick, Sick, Sick” and the newer “Possess Me” bridged that contrast perfectly, soaring with emotion while never losing their edge.
One of the evening’s standout moments came during a stripped-back ballad near the end of their set, where Mixi stepped away from the distortion and effects and simply sang. With the house lights dimmed and the crowd hushed, her voice rang out unaccompanied for a few bars—a brief but haunting moment that reminded everyone in the room why she’s one of the most compelling frontwomen in modern rock.
By the time they closed with “Monster,” the energy was at a peak. Fans were shouting lyrics, fists were pumping in unison, and even those unfamiliar with the band at the start of the night were swept up in the wave of emotion and release. Stitched Up Heart delivered a set that was both heavy and heartfelt—a rare balance that left a lasting impression.
In a lineup packed with intensity and spectacle, their set served as a powerful emotional anchor. They didn’t just play to entertain—they played to connect, to affirm, and to remind everyone present that vulnerability can be a form of strength. And on this night, in this venue, they reminded us all just how powerful that truth can sound through a wall of amps and a storm of light.
Wednesday 13: A Horror-Punk Spectacle for the Dead and the Living
By the time the house lights dimmed for Wednesday 13, The Forge had fully transformed—from a modest Joliet venue into a den of darkness, anticipation thick in the air like fog rolling in from a cursed cemetery. As an icon of horror-punk and gothic metal, Wednesday 13 has never just performed—he’s summoned. He didn’t just headline the night—he owned it, in full grotesque glory.
The crowd erupted as the eerie strains of an intro tape rolled in, setting the tone with a mixture of vintage B-movie samples and foreboding ambiance. Then, like Nosferatu rising from the shadows, Wednesday 13 appeared—decked out in full horror regalia, corpse-painted and clad in leather and spikes, his towering silhouette backlit by flashes of red and purple light. The band launched into “Look what the Bats Dragged in,” and the night was off to a furious, fiendish start.
For longtime fans, this set was a masterclass in theatrical shock rock. The band tore through a well-balanced mix of newer material and fan-favorite cuts spanning Wednesday’s storied career—from his solo work to his Murderdolls-era anthems. “I Walked With a Zombie,” “197666” and the feral “Slit My Wrist” were met with howls from the crowd, many of whom came dressed in ghoulish attire, some donning full-on face paint in tribute.
Each song was delivered with a sense of campy menace that only Wednesday 13 can execute so well. He doesn’t just reference horror—he embodies it, a ghastly ringmaster guiding the audience through a rock ‘n’ roll séance. But beneath the theatricality was razor-sharp musicianship: the band was tight, with thunderous drumming, guttural basslines, and guitars that slashed through the smoke like murder weapons. There was no sloppiness, no excess filler—just pure, polished chaos.
What sets Wednesday 13 apart, even now, is how he walks the razor’s edge between humor and horror. One moment he’s sneering through a snarling verse about reanimated corpses, the next he’s cracking a joke about grave robbing with the timing of a seasoned stand-up comic. That charisma—morbid, magnetic, and undeniably fun—had the crowd eating from his skeletal hands all night.
But there were also moments of genuine emotion. Between songs, Wednesday reflected briefly on the longevity of his career and thanked the fans who’ve stuck with him through the years, from the early Murderdolls days to now. There was gratitude behind the growl—a nod to the community that’s embraced his dark circus for decades. He also paid tribute to Joey Jordison, his late Murderdolls bandmate, which gave the night an unexpected emotional gravity. In that moment, The Forge wasn’t just a venue—it was a sanctuary for the strange, the grieving, and the devoted.
Closing with the chaotic stomp of “I Love to Say F*ck”, Wednesday 13 brought the night to a riotous finale. Fans screamed every word, crowd surfers emerged from the pit, and the stage glowed like the final scene of a horror flick—chaotic, triumphant, and burning with hellish joy.
Final Reflections: A Night for the Outsiders
This wasn’t just a concert—it was a gathering of the weird, the wounded, the hardened, and the healed. From the futuristic pulse of I Ya Toyah to the raw heart of Dead Rabbitts, the anthemic power of Stitched Up Heart, and Wednesday 13’s glorious horror-punk pageantry, each act brought something vital to the altar.
It was a reminder that dark music doesn’t just dwell in shadows—it shines a light on the people who find truth, identity, and healing in those very places. And on this particular night in Joliet, every scream, stomp, and power chord felt like a communion of the beautifully macabre.
