Review & Photography by Nathan Vestal for MPM
The Forge in Joliet, Illinois has developed a reputation as a go-to venue for aggressive and underground music, and on May 4, 2025, it lived up to that legacy. Upon a Burning Body, backed by an intense and stylistically varied support lineup, delivered a full evening of contemporary metal in its many brutal and bombastic forms. The supporting acts—Left to Suffer, King 810, Half Me, and Bury My Demons—did more than warm up the crowd. Each brought their own sonic identity and performance energy, contributing to an event that felt more like a touring festival than a standard metal show.
Bury My Demons
Opening the night with unmistakable urgency, Bury My Demons delivered a performance that went far beyond the expectations often placed on the first opener. Formed in Denver, Colorado, the band has cultivated a reputation for their work ethic and precision, and at The Forge, they proved they deserve serious attention. Their sound is rooted in metalcore but infused with elements of deathcore, groove, and even melodic post-hardcore, creating a dynamic and textured listening experience.
From the moment the band launched into their first song, it was clear they were locked in. Vocalist John Allen commanded the stage with grit and conviction, moving seamlessly between guttural lows and mid-range screams. The lyrics, while rooted in the angst and catharsis of the genre, came across as thoughtful and emotionally articulate striking a chord with the early arrivals who were fully engaged from the start.
Their guitar work featured a satisfying interplay of dissonant leads and chug-heavy rhythm sections, often building to breakdowns that were as carefully structured as they were devastating. Noteworthy was the band’s sense of pacing—each track unfolded with deliberate build-ups and climaxes, resisting the urge to rush into predictable formulas. Songs like “State of Dystopia” and “Ascending” demonstrated a strong grasp of dynamics, pulling the crowd into moments of tension before unleashing tidal waves of distortion and rhythmic pummeling.
The response from the crowd was immediate and enthusiastic. Bury My Demons packed a punch that rivaled their touring counterparts. Fans in the front row were visibly familiar with the lyrics, while newcomers nodded in.
Between songs, the band kept banter to a minimum, choosing instead to let the music speak. However, before closing their set, they briefly thanked the crowd and expressed appreciation for being included on such a notable bill—a humble gesture that resonated well with the audience.
Half Me
Half Me, the genre-bending quintet from Hamburg, Germany, brought one of the most unique and forward-thinking sets of the night. Seamlessly fusing metalcore, nu-metal, industrial textures, and djent-style groove, their sonic palette is as dark and layered as it is crushing. Within the diverse lineup, Half Me stood out not by being the heaviest band on the bill, but by being the most sonically daring.
Their entrance was low-key, but their opening notes instantly established a moody, oppressive atmosphere. They opened with “Wraith” — a song driven by angular riffs and off-kilter rhythms — and immediately pushed the audience into unfamiliar but intriguing territory. The band’s musicianship is tightly wound, with guitarists Christopher Hesse and Julius Jansen delivering a mix of low-tuned groove riffs, piercing feedback, and dissonant chords that create controlled chaos. Their use of pedal effects and ambient textures was deliberate and immersive, giving even their heaviest sections a ghostly undertone.
The band’s rhythm section worked like a machine — drummer Maximilian Eisersdorff’s calculated use of syncopated breakdowns and erratic fills made every shift in tempo feel like a twist in a psychological thriller. Bassist Tobias Max Sajons didn’t just mirror the guitar but added melodic undercurrents and deep fuzz that gave their sound a haunting weight. Tracks like “Blacklight” and “Trauma Culture” revealed the band’s gift for tension: building moments of anxiety through electronic pulses and echoing feedback before exploding into crushing, palm-muted aggression.
Vocalist Christopher Zühlke demonstrated impressive range and emotional depth. Rather than sticking to one mode, he alternated between caustic mid-range screams, airy whispers, and distorted spoken-word passages that felt equal parts Slipknot and Loathe. The reserved stage presence and dynamic performance had a theatrical edge without veering into parody or overstatement.
Half Me avoids overt showmanship, choosing instead to build intensity through mood and musical complexity. Their minimal lighting — with heavy use of strobes and stark backlights — added a ghostlike quality to their silhouettes. The effect made them feel larger than life, despite their stripped-down visual aesthetic.
While the band was unfamiliar to some in the Joliet audience, Half Me quickly captured attention and won over the room. As the set progressed, heads nodded in approval, pits started to stir, and by the end, they had clearly converted more than a few skeptics. Audience members began cheering song transitions and responding to beat drops with genuine excitement. It was a slow-burn connection, but by the final song, Half Me had etched their presence into the memory of everyone watching.
Half Me represents the experimental, cerebral side of modern metalcore — the kind that trades predictable structures for mood-driven compositions and emotionally layered noise. Their performance was not just a display of heaviness, but a sonic journey through unease, collapse, and catharsis. In a lineup packed with raw power, they brought something different: a chilling, almost post-human edge that lingers long after the final note.
King 810
When King 810 took the stage at The Forge, the entire tone of the evening underwent a palpable shift. The band, infamous for its unfiltered portrayal of life in Flint, Michigan, didn’t simply perform — they invoked an atmosphere, dragging the audience into a world of poetic nihilism and street-wrought trauma. While often categorized as nu-metal or spoken-word hardcore, King 810 transcends genre — they are a live experience that exists somewhere between a confessional and a warzone.
The stage was bare of flash and excess, instead shrouded in stark, industrial lighting that gave the room the air of a basement bunker. From the first moments of “Rustbelt Numetal”, frontman David Gunn stalked the stage with deliberate, menacing stillness. His delivery — part orator, part mad prophet — created an eerie kind of intimacy. Gunn’s voice roamed between pained growls, desperate spoken lines, and raw, shouted exclamations, every word sounding like it came from the edge of a nervous breakdown.
King 810’s strength lies in how they weaponize silence and space. Between outbursts of pounding riffage and chest-caving rhythm sections, they allow moments to breathe — and it’s in those breaths that the dread creeps in. Tracks like “Vendettas” and “Suicide Machines” didn’t just “go hard” — they built emotional pressure before releasing it in crushing waves. Their drummer, John Paul Vega, ever economical and intense, held back just enough to create tension and forward drive. Meanwhile, guitar tones remained murky, war-torn, and layered with minor-key dissonance, giving their riffs the texture of cracked concrete and scorched metal.
The set’s highlight — arguably its darkest point — was “Heavy Lies the Crown”, delivered with haunting restraint. Gunn stood nearly motionless, almost whispering through clenched teeth, letting every word hang in the air like smoke. The crowd stood in rapt silence, broken only by bursts of shouting from fans who felt every syllable in their gut. It was less a song and more a monologue set to the sound of emotional erosion. For a band often labeled as confrontational, this was a moment of quiet devastation that hit even harder than the more aggressive numbers.
However, the band’s music encompasses more than aggression and depressive elements. Their music is layered with defiance, survival, and unspoken hope, albeit buried under layers of violence and urban decay. The vulnerability beneath the bravado, and the emotional conflict is what makes their performance riveting. Songs like “Alpha & Omega” brought the house back into motion with militaristic cadence and war-chant energy, igniting the pit and reigniting the crowd’s kinetic energy after the set’s darker moments.
While some metal bands bring comfort through community or catharsis, King 810 offers something far more confrontational — an invitation to confront your own darkness. For those willing to meet them in that emotional trench, the reward is an experience unlike anything else on the metal circuit. Their set was less about musical satisfaction and more about immersive storytelling — brutal, unrelenting, and deeply personal.
As the final notes rang out, the band exited as they entered: without fanfare, without gimmick. Just a lingering sense of unease, the kind that makes you reflect more than cheer. Love them or hate them, King 810 forces a reaction — and that, in a scene often overrun with formula, is a power few bands wield so effectively.
Left to Suffer
By the time Left to Suffer took the stage, the crowd at The Forge was fully locked in — and the Atlanta deathcore unit wasted no time in demonstrating why they’re rapidly becoming one of the most talked-about names in the genre. With a sonic identity that fuses traditional deathcore with elements of nu-metal, groove, and even progressive metal, Left to Suffer didn’t just pummel the crowd — they challenged it.
Opening with the monolithic “Set the World on Fire”, the band hit the ground running with a combination of crushing low-end riffs, machine-gun drumming, and vocals that vacillated between abyssal growls and high-pitched shrieks. Vocalist Taylor Barber remains one of the most commanding frontmen in extreme music today — a masterclass in range, stamina, and presence. Whether barking lines with percussive intensity or dragging guttural growls from his diaphragm like a summoning spell, Barber’s control over the room was undeniable. His eyes scanned the crowd like a predator sizing up the next kill — calculated, yet fiery with passion.
But Left to Suffer is not a one-trick sonic sledgehammer. Their newer material, including songs like “Feral” and “Primitive Urge”, showcased a more dynamic, nuanced side of the band. Shifts between ambience, tension-building synth lines, and suffocating breakdowns made for an experience that was as atmospheric as it was violent. The guitar work was particularly tight — dissonant but deliberate, technical but never overindulgent. They employed eerie harmonic layers and syncopated riffs that added depth far beyond the genre’s typical chug-heavy fare.
The rhythm section was relentless. Drummer Alex Vavra’s performance bordered on athletic — effortlessly alternating between blast beats, thudding kick-drum grooves, and sudden tempo shifts that gave every song an unpredictable and dangerous feel. Bassist Christian Nowatzki filled the low-end pocket with menacing precision, enhancing the band’s massive sound without muddying the mix — a detail sometimes lost in live deathcore, but not here.
What truly made Left to Suffer’s set stand out was the emotional intensity beneath the brutality. Their lyrics explore themes of mental health, addiction, trauma, and self-identity, and the performance brought that vulnerability to life in a way that resonated far beyond moshing. The pit was chaotic, yes, but there were just as many fans screaming lyrics back at the band, fists raised in catharsis. There was unity in the heaviness, an undercurrent of shared rage and healing.
In one of the more memorable moments of the evening, Barber addressed the crowd directly before diving into a fan favorite. With conviction and humility, he spoke briefly about overcoming pain through music — not in the form of a cliché, but as a lived reality. The message hit hard, and the reaction was immediate: crowd surfers began launching, and the pit doubled in size.
Left to Suffer’s set felt like a coming-of-age moment for a band that has been grinding hard and evolving with every release. Their ability to blend emotional storytelling with sonic obliteration is a testament to their growth and ambition. If this set proved anything, it’s that they are no longer an “up-and-coming” act — they’ve arrived, and they’re ready to take over stages much larger than this.
Upon a Burning Body
Upon a Burning Body took the stage at The Forge like a seasoned prizefighter entering the ring — confident, focused, and fully aware that they were the main event. From the moment the first notes of “Killshot” erupted through the monitors, the crowd’s energy exploded, confirming that the Texas groove-metal veterans were about to deliver a headlining set worthy of their name and legacy.
Celebrating two decades of evolution, the San Antonio-based band has morphed from deathcore upstarts into a refined, groove-laden powerhouse, bridging the aggression of Lamb of God with the swagger of Pantera and the bombast of modern metalcore. Live, this fusion is turned up to maximum effect. Every riff is a gut punch, every breakdown timed to perfection, and every chant-ready chorus delivered with chest-thumping authority.
Frontman Danny Leal was in top form — a true ringmaster of the evening’s chaos. Bursting onto the stage with constant movement and commanding presence, Leal wasted no time in whipping the audience into shape. His barked vocals rang with venom and charisma, effortlessly transitioning from explosive growls to rallying shouts that the crowd screamed back in unison. Between songs, his banter walked the line between old-school bravado and heartfelt appreciation, especially when acknowledging the openers and the fans who have supported them from the early days.
The band’s setlist drew from across their discography, hitting on everything from the deathcore-leaning intensity of The World Is My Enemy Now to the hard-hitting groove and thrash influences of Fury and Southern Hostility. Songs like “King of Diamonds” and “Scars” were undeniable highlights — absolute riff-fests that had the pit in a frenzy and the crowd yelling every word like a war cry. “B.M.F” offered one of the night’s most ferocious breakdowns, while newer cuts showed that the band is still innovating rather than resting on nostalgia.
Guitarist Ruben Alvarez delivered a riff clinic that balanced technicality with raw power. The tone was tight and muscular — think Dimebag Darrell filtered through modern metalcore production. The lead work, while often buried in the band’s earlier material, cut through with clarity here, offering a melodic counterpoint to the brutal rhythms. Meanwhile, the bass from Thomas Alvarez thundered beneath it all, locking in with drummer Tito Felix to form a backbone that made every groove hit like a wrecking ball.
Aesthetically, the band leaned into their Texan heritage with pride. Their identity made up of unmistakable swagger and southern pride sets Upon a Burning Body’s performance apart in a sea of genre clones: bold, rhythmic, culturally rooted, and fiercely self-possessed.
Technically, the sound mix at The Forge held up remarkably well for a set this intense. The venue’s intimate size amplified the band’s crushing tone while allowing for plenty of crowd interaction. Leal often stood at the edge of the stage, throwing out the mic for fans to scream into and gesturing for bigger pits, higher jumps, louder responses — and the fans delivered every time.
The final stretch of their set pulled no punches. After a blistering run through “Sin City” and a thunderous version of “Texas Blood Money”, the band left the crowd chanting for more despite the blunt warning that they left it all on the stage and there would be no encore.
More than just a headliner, Upon a Burning Body proved they are still a force to be reckoned with — not just surviving in today’s metal scene, but thriving, evolving, and still commanding stages with raw, unfiltered power. They delivered a set that was as much about groove and ferocity as it was about unity and pride, leaving no doubt that they remain one of metal’s most underrated — and unforgettable — live bands.
