Review & Photography by Manny Manson for MPM
Norwegian Stoners,Bokassa, crashed into the O2 Academy Birmingham like a shot of adrenaline, thirty minutes of scrappy, hyper-riffed stoner-punk that felt equal parts pogo and power-chord sermon.
As an opener ahead of 1000mods and Clutch they didn’t play small: Jørn Kaarstad prowled the stage with the snarling, shout-ready vocal delivery that’s become the band’s trademark, Olav Dowkes’ drums were a steamroller of punk precision and groove, and the bass, whether Ole Vistnes, touring hands or recent additions depending on lineup changes, locked everything together with a dirty, tank-like tone that kept the room moving. Bokassa’s whole thing is loud and lived-in: riffs borrowed from classic stoner rock, tempos that flip into hardcore bursts, hooks that lodge in your skull, the kind of set where every chorus becomes a chant by the second chorus.
They opened with “Freelude” (from Molotov Rocktail, released 3 September 2021), the terse intro that functions like a detonator, a single guitar figure expanding into a slab of distorted momentum before the rest of the band pile in. Live it works as a two-minute threat, a palate-cleanser that announces “we’re not here to be polite” and gets the crowd keyed. The production on the record is meatier, but in the Academy Freelude’s clipped edges tasted even more immediate and dangerous. “Last Night”, their snarling “Last Night (Was A Real Massacre)” from Divide & Conquer (released 25 March 2017), pushed the punk side up front: short, sharp, indignant and ridiculously catchy. Kaarstad’s voice cuts through with a lived-in rasp and the band’s tempo shifts are telegraphed by a drummer who knows how to push and pull without losing the groove; you could hear the room coalesce into the chorus and sing the hook back like a hymn of misbehaviour. It’s the sort of song that defined their early identity: furious, funny, full of attitude.
“No Control” (War On Everything, a 2015 E.P.) followed as a mini manifesto, almost a punk calling card in miniature, all snarl and momentum. Live it becomes less of a recorded curiosity and more of an oath: no frills, cut the fat, play the riff. The brevity of the song is its charm; Bokassa treat short songs like sledgehammers and they landed every blow. “Garden of Heathen” (from All Out of Dreams, released 16 February 2024) brought a slightly newer, broader palette into the set, the band have always flirted with melody beneath the scuzz, and here it was given room to breathe. The recorded version features a guest vocal cameo and anthemic harmonies; in the live mix the guest parts were absorbed into the trio’s collective roar but the song’s sneaky tunefulness shone through. That balance, catchy chorus against a backdrop of heavy riff, is where Bokassa have matured.
“Fails” was shorthand for the set’s closer to self-deprecation: “Everyone Fails In The End” (from All Out of Dreams, 16 Feb 2024), a short, metallic hardcore blast on record, translated into a live gut-punch. It’s tight, tremor-like and gave the band an excuse to show off synchronized aggression; mosh-friendly and brief, it kept the pace frantic. “Crocs”, their crowd-pleasing “Crocsodile Dundee” (Divide & Conquer, 25 March 2017), was a highlight purely because people know it, shout along and grin. It’s got a stupidly good riff, a lyric that invites a smirk, and a stomp that fills dancefloors; the Birmingham crowd ate it up. On the record it’s one of their most playful tracks, and live it’s a communal thing, the band feed off the room and kick it up another notch.
“Bradford” (played as “Bradford Death Squadron”, another from All Out of Dreams, released 16 February 2024) showed how Bokassa now sprinkle in guest performers and bigger production ideas on the record, yet retain a garage-level ferocity on stage. The newer material, and Bradford’s riffs in particular, lean into a widescreen stoner stomp, and tonight it sounded massive: bass-heavy, ambitious, but still fun.
When they hit “Immortal” the band reached back to the sprawling closing epics in their catalogue. The “Immortal Space Pirate (The Stoner Anthem)” lineage (first appearing on Divide & Conquer, 25 March 2017, and echoed later across their releases) gives Bokassa the room to stretch beyond three-minute punks into something lurching and doom-tinged; onstage it’s the moment they slow down enough to let the riff breathe and the crowd build tension before the drop. “Mouth”, shorthand for “Mouthbreathers Inc.” (from Crimson Riders, released 21 June 2019), and “Vultures” (also from Crimson Riders, 21 June 2019) closed out the set with two cuts that showcase the band’s knack for razor-sharp hooks and anthemic choruses. Crimson Riders refined their songwriting into tighter punk-surfaced pieces with a stoner core, and both tracks hit the sweet spot live: aggressive, melodic, and with singalong sections that turned the front rows into a chorus line. (The setlist did include “Vultures”, and “Walker Texas Ranger” but these were cut from the set due to timings.)
Through the short sweep of the set, you could hear Bokassa’s story: formed in Trondheim in 2013 and growing from pissed-off garage punks into a festival-ready power trio that’s toured with big names and built a compact but varied discography (from early singles through Divide & Conquer, Crimson Riders, Molotov Rocktail to All Out of Dreams). That trajectory, punk roots, stoner riffs, a touch of metal polish, was obvious in the setlist choices and the band’s live physics: they play like a three-headed animal, each member doing more than their job, trading space and noise with a surfer’s sense of timing.
By the time Bokassa left the stage the room had been properly warmed: sweaty, grinning and primed for the heavier headliners. They’re a band that wears its influences on its sleeve but writes songs that refuse to be tidy, and tonight at the O2 Academy Birmingham they reminded everyone why they’re one of the most reliably explosive openers you can book, loose, loud, and unforgivingly fun.
Taking over where Bokassa left off, and did it with that particular, low-end swagger are 1000mods. The band have been cultivating there distinctive ‘Stoner’ style since they first drove their van out of Chiliomodi and into everybody’s radar: four players, one huge amp-stack of riffs and a stage presence that’s all slow-burn conviction rather than flash. The O2 Academy crowd had barely settled from Bokassa’s manic charge when Dani G., Giannis S., Giorgos T. and Labros G. eased into the compact, stingy pummel of “Electric Carve”, a short, serrated opener that bites and pulls back, the band’s treble-cut guitars and rumbling bass sculpted like a handplane shaving wood. It’s a song from their Repeated Exposure To… record, released 26 September 2016, and on stage it behaves like a live primer: taut, exact, a warm-up with teeth.
They slide straight into the long, patient swagger of “Road to Burn” from their debut Super Van Vacation (released 29 September 2011), and in doing so, the room seemed to slide in with them. That track is textbook 1000mods: desert-wide riffing, patient groove, and a heady sense of space that allows the drums and bass to breathe before the guitars grind in. Live it stretched in the right places, Labros locking a heartbeat groove under Giorgos’s slow, snarling bends while Dani’s voice rides the riff like a weathered tour bus on a sun-baked highway.
The band’s earliest record still supplies that road-worn DNA: long, epic tracks that taste of sand and miles. When the trio dropped “Giötzen Hammer” it arrived as the sharpest, nastiest cut of the set, their Götzen Hammer from Cheat Death, a track that smacks you with metallic edges and a louder, meaner production than the more psychedelic earlier records. Cheat Death (released 8 November 2024) is where 1000mods intentionally leaned into a heavier palette and the Birmingham crowd got the benefit of that leanness: the song’s chugging verse, sudden odd-time stop, and a solo that didn’t aim for flash so much as purposeful incision. The newer material’s aggression felt calibrated for venues like the O2 Academy, louder, denser, and built to punch through the polite din.
“Spearhead” another Cheat Death cut, and on tonight it hit like a compressed, sprinting cousin to the band’s usual slo-burn approach. Speedhead’s motorik momentum accelerated the set, the drums kicking like a turbo, the guitars carving little staccato hooks across the stereo field while Dani’s vocal barked above it. Where “Road to Burn” expands like a horizon, “Speedhead” felt like a strip of tarmac gone suddenly downhill: quicker phrases, tighter transitions, and an eagerness that made the middle of the set pop. “Low” reintroduced the Vultures era’s thicker, blues-coursed power, the album Vultures was released 30 May 2014, and it’s one of those songs that proves how much the band’s tone comes from choices of space as much as distortion.
On record “Low” is a textured, almost sludgy stomp; live it was that plus a little more bounce, the audience responding to those big, open chord hits with a movement that looked like a crowd syncing to a collective inhalation. It’s the classic 1000mods move: make the riff obvious and let the room fill in the atmosphere.
Then came “Overthrown,” the single-forward anthem from Cheat Death, and it’s here the band’s modern songwriting really asserts itself. The studio version (Nov 8, 2024) is long enough to set up a narrative, verse/chorus, a muscley middle eight, a solo that fragments into almost speech-like phrases, and live they stretched that middle into a call-and-response with the crowd. There’s a confidence onstage now that’s been earned through touring: cues are tiny but crisp, the band’s interplay telegraphed in glances and a mutual lean into rhythm.
“Overthrown” landed with a clang that felt less like aggression and more like an announcement: 1000mods have taken the heavier option and it suits them. Track seven on the setlist was written as “Rollo”, shorthand for “El Rollito” from Super Van Vacation, and that was the set’s wink to their earlier, looser psychedelia. “El Rollito” still smells of the band’s late-2000s groove obsession: long instrumental pockets, wah-tinged guitar licks and a slightly improvisatory feel. At the Academy it became the breathing space between the new album’s weight and the older records’ expansive tendencies; the jam in the middle let the four push an extra minute of atmosphere before snapping back into the song’s main theme, and you could sense the band enjoying the room as much as the room was enjoying the band.
They closed, for their portion of the night, with “Vidage”, the towering, cinematic piece from Super Van Vacation, and it’s the kind of closer that underlines why 1000mods are still such a dependable live act. “Vidage” is long on record and longer live: the final tumbling solo, the slow-burn return to theme, the crowd clapping in time with the snare, it felt like a small ritual. The sequencing of the set, a little old, a little new, fast moments tucked between sprawling grooves, told you everything you need to know about what the band are right now: a four piece who’ve refined their dynamics, who can shift from desert-psychedelia to hard, metallic stomp without sounding like they’re wearing borrowed clothes.
If Bokassa left with a scowl and a ricochet, 1000mods left the room with a full-bodied, deeply satisfied exhale. Their history, from the sunburnt epics of Super Van Vacation (2011) through the Vultures (2014) heft and the mid-career polish of Repeated Exposure To… (2016), to the more muscular Cheat Death (2024), is audible in the way they balance dynamics and tone. At the O2 Academy they were a band that sounded very much like themselves: deliberate, groove-addicted, and now heavier where it counts. For anyone who’s followed them since the van days it was confirmation; for newcomers it was a perfectly packaged introduction to a band that builds its gravity slowly and then, when it needs to, slams the doors shut behind it. I’m sure new fans have jumped aboard and joined the Super Van vacation express.
Clutch walking onstage at the O2 Academy Birmingham never feels like a “headliner arrives” moment in the traditional sense. There’s no intro tape, no dramatic lighting cue, no theatrical pause to whip the crowd into submission. Instead, what you get is four men ambling out like they’ve just stepped off a tour bus somewhere in the American Midwest, plugging in, exchanging glances, and then flattening the room with groove, volume and authority. After Bokassa’s punked-up scuzz and 1000mods’ monolithic Greek heaviness, Clutch didn’t attempt to out-muscle anyone. They did something far more difficult. They sounded completely, unmistakably like Clutch, and by the end of the night that identity felt unarguable.
They opened with “Subtle Hustle” from Blast Tyrant, released on 16 September 2004, and it was a quietly brilliant choice. The song is deceptive, it rolls rather than explodes, built on a sly riff from Tim Sult and a bassline from Dan Maines that moves like something alive. Live, it settled the band into their pocket immediately. Jean-Paul Gaster’s drumming was crisp and elastic, snapping the groove into place with that unmistakable Clutch swing that no other drummer quite replicates. Neil Fallon stepped to the mic and delivered the opening lines with preacherly confidence, not barking or blustering, but riding the rhythm with a storyteller’s cadence. It was a reminder that Clutch at this stage of their career don’t need to hit you over the head straight away. They know exactly how long to let the fuse burn. “The Mob Goes Wild” followed, another taken from Blast Tyrant, and the reaction was immediate and physical. This is one of those songs that transcends album, era, or even genre; it’s a call to arms that has become embedded in the band’s live DNA. Sult’s riff sounded colossal without being over-gained, Maines’ bass locked in underneath like a piston, and Fallon’s delivery, half carnival barker, half Old Testament prophet, turned the Academy floor into a heaving mass. What’s striking about “The Mob Goes Wild” live is how tight it still is. Nearly two decades on, it hasn’t bloated or slowed. If anything, it’s leaner, meaner, and more confident in its own inevitability.
From there, Clutch dipped back to Earth Rocker with the title track, “Earth Rocker” (released 19 March 2013). This was Clutch in pure momentum mode. The song’s driving tempo gave Gaster room to shine, his ride cymbal dancing while his kick drum anchored everything to the floor. Earth Rocker was an important album in Clutch’s catalogue, a deliberate stripping back after some more experimental turns, and live it feels like a reaffirmation of who they are as a rock band. No frills, no fat, just riffs and groove delivered with absolute conviction. “X-Ray Vision” kept the energy high, pulled from Psychic Warfare, released 2 October 2015. This is Clutch leaning into their science-fiction and paranoia-tinged lyricism, and Fallon relished it. His voice cut through the mix effortlessly, the phrasing sharp and rhythmic, every syllable punched home. Sult’s solo was brief but surgical, proving once again that he’s less interested in flash than in saying exactly what the song needs at precisely the right moment.
“Firebirds”, from Psychic Warfare (2 October 2015), was a standout in the middle of the set, and perhaps the clearest illustration of how well Clutch have aged. This is newer material that doesn’t try to sound young, doesn’t chase trends, and doesn’t apologise for being written by a band; decades into their career. Live, it was muscular and soulful, the chorus lifting without ever tipping into bombast. The dynamic between the four players was physical here: subtle nods, tiny tempo adjustments, the kind of communication that only comes from years of shared stages and shared miles. “Slaughter Beach,” from Sunrise on Slaughter Beach (16 September 2022), followed naturally, its swampy groove and ominous undertones thickening the atmosphere. Fallon’s lyrics felt less like performance and more like invocation, while Maines’ bass tone, warm, rounded, and enormous, filled every gap. This is where Clutch’s sound really separates them from their peers. They’re heavy without being metallic, groovy without being funky, and rooted in rock history without ever sounding retro.
“Crucial Velocity” took the set back to Earth Rocker (19 March 2013), and it landed hard. This song is pure propulsion, built for live environments, and the band played it like they were enjoying every second of its relentless forward motion. Gaster’s drumming here was particularly impressive, his fills snapping into place without ever derailing the groove. The crowd responded in kind, bodies moving instinctively, heads nodding in unison. “Cypress Grove,” from Blast Tyrant, released 13 March 2004, brought a slightly looser, more conversational feel. This is Clutch at their most road-worn and reflective, a song that feels like it was written somewhere between soundchecks and truck stops. Live, it breathed, stretching and contracting as Fallon leaned into the phrasing. The band let it roll rather than forcing it, confident that the groove would carry the room.
Then came “Spacegrass,” from Clutch’s self-titled album, released on 7 April 1995, and the reaction was nothing short of euphoric. This is a song that has followed the band for three decades, and it still feels dangerous and unhinged. The riff hit like a blast from another time, yet it sounded completely contemporary in this room. Fallon’s delivery was playful and authoritative, and when the song dropped into its more psychedelic passages, the Academy felt momentarily untethered from reality. This was Clutch reminding everyone exactly where they came from. “Nosferatu Madre”, from Sunrise On Slaughter Beach (16 September 2022), followed, bringing the mood back into darker, funkier territory. The song’s vamp-like groove was irresistible, and Fallon stalked the stage, embodying the character of the lyric without ever lapsing into theatrics. It was cool, controlled, and quietly menacing.
“Walking in the Great Shining Path of Monster Trucks,” from probably one of the longest album titles of any debut release, Transnational Speedway League: Anthems, Anecdotes, and Undeniable Truths, released on 17 June 1993, this has to be one of the night’s undeniable high points. This is primal Clutch mythology distilled into five minutes of groove, humour and swagger. Live, it felt enormous, the chorus exploding outward as the crowd roared along. Sult’s guitar tone here was perfect, thick but articulate, and Maines’ bass added a weight that rattled the room. “Mice and Gods,” from Robot Hive / Exodus, the 7th studio album, (21 June 2005), kept the momentum rolling. It’s a song that sits at the crossroads of Clutch’s sound: heavy but swinging, cryptic but direct. Fallon delivered it with absolute authority, and the band locked in behind him like a single organism.
“The Regulator,” from Blast Tyrant (13 March 2004), was greeted like an old friend. This is one of those songs that defines Clutch’s live legacy, and tonight it felt especially potent. The groove was immense, Gaster and Maines forming a rhythm section that could move mountains, while Sult’s riff cut through with surgical precision. “The Streets Are His,” a sneak preview of material from a forth coming album, it was first played live in August this year alongside “Colorado Fuel and Iron” this one was another reminder of how strong the band’s song writing is. It didn’t feel like a concession to newer material; it felt essential. The chorus hit hard, the groove rolled deep, and the crowd stayed fully engaged.
“The Face,” taken from Earth Rocker, released on 19 March 2013, brought a slightly looser, almost jam-like feel. This is Clutch allowing themselves space, and live it worked beautifully. The band stretched the song just enough to let it breathe, without losing focus. “Electric Worry,” from From Beale Street to Oblivion, released on 20 March 2007, detonated the room. There are few Clutch songs that provoke such an immediate, visceral response, and tonight was no exception. The bluesy riff, the handclap-ready rhythm, Fallon’s commanding vocal, it all came together in a moment of pure, communal release. And then, of course, “Burning Beard,” from Robot Hive / Exodus (21 June 2005), closed the night. There’s something almost ceremonial about this song now, and Clutch played it with the respect it deserves. The riff hit, the crowd erupted, and for a few minutes the O2 Academy Birmingham belonged entirely to that groove. Fallon leaned into the chorus with a grin, the band locked in behind him, and it felt like the perfect full stop.
Woven through the set was the story of Clutch themselves: formed in Germantown, Maryland, in 1991; Fallon, Sult, Maines and Gaster remaining unchanged for decades; a discography that charts a band constantly refining rather than reinventing. Their style, equal parts hard rock, stoner groove, blues, funk and punk attitude, has never chased trends, and that stubborn individuality is why nights like this still feel vital. The band dynamic is built on trust and restraint, each member knowing exactly when to push and when to pull, when to step forward and when to disappear into the groove. By the time the lights came up, there was no doubt who the night belonged to. Clutch didn’t dominate through spectacle or excess. They did it the hard way, through songs, sound, and a band chemistry forged over decades, and in doing so they reminded everyone why, after all these years, they still matter.
