Review & Photography by Manny Manson for MPM
As the last echoes of Butcher Babies faded, the stage was cleared with military precision, monitors adjusted, pedals recalibrated, and the room holding its collective breath. Then the lights snapped low, red and blue streaks cutting through the smoky air, and Infected Rain emerged like a storm incarnate. Lena took the forefront, her presence immediate, magnetic, and almost predatory. To her left, Vidick’s guitar sliced through the mix with a precision bite, while Eugen Voluta’s drumming was already ticking like a machine wound tight, and Alice Lane’s bass added a subterranean pulse, every note measured, every thump felt in the chest.
The opening of “Mutation Phase” was a calculated ignition. A low electronic hum rolled through the PA like a warning siren, sub-bass throbbing beneath the guitars’ high-gain aggression. Lena’s first scream wasn’t just loud—it was textured, layered with a controlled distortion that made it feel alive, almost tangible. She pivoted mid-line into a clean, soaring melody that contrasted with the harshness, and the crowd responded instinctively, moving closer, leaning in, sensing the duality that defines Infected Rain.
The track’s riffing was tight, mechanical, almost surgical, each note placed like a scalpel, precise and deliberate. Vadick danced along the fretboard, balancing chugging rhythm with piercing lead accents, his movements mirrored by Eugen’s percussive precision. Lena’s vocals were the pivot point, switching seamlessly from guttural growls to controlled clean lines, each phrasing riding the rhythmic undercurrent, commanding attention without ever feeling forced. Alice’s bass threaded underneath, occasionally leaping forward with counter-rhythms that accentuated the tension.
Every drum hit, every cymbal crash, every vocal scream fed into a sensory overload, pulling the audience into Infected Rain’s carefully constructed chaos. By the final riff, “Mutation Phase” wasn’t just a song, it was a full immersion, a brutal, beautiful collision of control, ferocity, and performance art that left the crowd reeling, ready for the next assault.
The opening notes of “The Answer Is You” hit like a carefully loaded spring snapping open. Vidick’s guitar riff was taut, rhythmic, bouncing with a syncopated energy that immediately set bodies moving, while Eugen Voluta’s drumming acted as the track’s pulse—tight, deliberate, yet explosive when the song demanded it. Alice Lane’s bass threaded beneath it all, subtle but insistent, keeping the groove grounded. Lena Cataraga’s presence at the centre of this sonic machine was magnetic. Her vocals alternated between spoken-like, almost conversational lines and soaring melodic passages, her phrasing bending and stretching over the instrumental undercurrent. She rode the rhythm, sometimes ahead, sometimes behind, creating a push-pull tension that kept the room alert, engaged, and utterly captivated.
The live arrangement opened space for subtle flourishes: Vadick’s guitar layered sliding harmonics over the syncopated main riff, while Lena’s transitions from guttural growls to soaring cleans cut through the mix with an almost cinematic precision. The energy in the crowd was palpable, hands in the air, heads nodding in time, the front row echoing her every line without prompting.
Midway through, the tension ratcheted higher. Lena moved across the stage with deliberate intensity, every step, gesture, and hair flip punctuating the sonic assault. Her ability to switch from vicious aggression to vulnerable melodic passages in real time created a rollercoaster of emotion, and the band matched her every nuance. Eugen’s fills became more dramatic, Alice’s basslines more assertive, and Vadick’s leads threaded in between, weaving texture and threat simultaneously.
By the climax, the entire room was locked into Infected Rain’s gravitational pull. “The Answer Is You” was more than a song; it was a conversation between performer and audience, aggression and melody, chaos and precision. The track’s live power left no doubt: Infected Rain command space not just with volume or speed, but with control, craft, and an instinct for building tension that could bend a crowd’s energy entirely to their will.
“Dying Light” opened with a subtle shift in atmosphere, a deliberate drop in tempo that immediately drew the room’s attention. Vidick’s guitar rang out, each note stretched with a haunting resonance, layered with distortion that felt like it crawled under the skin. Alice Lane’s bass was a shadowy presence, lurking beneath the riff, giving weight without overpowering, while Eugen Voluta’s drums maintained a tense, simmering heartbeat, the kick and snare working in tandem to build an almost claustrophobic suspense. Lena Cataraga’s entrance was striking—her clean vocals floated over the instrumentation like a fragile thread, delicate yet commanding, each note tinged with longing and tension. The contrast between her ethereal clean lines and the undercurrent of aggression from the band created a gripping dynamic that held the audience rapt.
The live arrangement stretched the song’s texture. Vadick added subtle feedback swells and harmonics between phrases, turning the riff into an evolving landscape rather than a static pattern. Lena’s delivery was layered, shifting from restrained vulnerability to sudden bursts of guttural intensity, emphasizing the song’s thematic tension between fragility and threat. Every line felt sculpted, her control absolute, pulling the room into the narrative of the song without a single word feeling wasted.
Midway, the dynamic tightened, Alice’s bass moved from subtlety to more pronounced counter-melodies, punctuating Lena’s phrasing while Eugen’s drums shifted to rolling tom fills that added urgency. The audience responded instinctively; heads swayed, fists rose, and the front row leaned forward as if to meet her voice head-on.
By the song’s climax, “Dying Light” was more than music, it was an immersion, a tense and beautiful exploration of space, control, and emotional resonance. The crowd didn’t just hear it; they lived it, every note sinking in, leaving them suspended in that precise moment of catharsis.
When “Fighter” erupted, the room’s energy shifted immediately from tension to kinetic force. Vidick’s guitar hit like a sledgehammer, every riff tight and angular, with metallic edges that cut through the PA. Eugen Voluta’s drumming was relentless’ double-kick patterns driving forward with precision, snare cracks snapping like gunfire, while Alice Lane’s bass roared beneath it all, grounding the aggression and giving weight to every breakdown. Lena dominated the centre of the stage, her presence commanding, eyes locked on the crowd, every gesture choreographed to unleash intensity.
Her vocal performance was a masterclass in contrast. The verses leaned into sharp, controlled screams that ricocheted off the walls, raw but measured, before exploding into clean melodic choruses that soared over the instrumentation. Every line carried intent, a story of defiance and resilience, amplified by her perfect timing and the band’s unflinching support. Vadick’s leads punctuated the chorus with sharp, stabbing harmonics, adding tension between Lena’s vocal arcs, while Eugen’s fills created moments of anticipation, the crowd responding in kind, bodies colliding, fists pumping, energy thrumming like a live wire.
The live arrangement added depth beyond the album recording. Mid-song breakdowns were stretched, Lena prowling the stage like a predator, drawing the audience into the storm. Every cymbal crash, every scream, every bass thrum contributed to a layered assault that was both precise and chaotic, perfectly encapsulating the track’s thematic intensity.
By the finale of “Fighter,” the crowd was fully enmeshed, a living organism responding to every cue. It wasn’t just a song, it was a battle, a declaration of defiance, an immersive force of nature. Infected Rain didn’t just perform “Fighter”; they inhabited it, and for those watching, it felt like an experience that would echo long after the last note died.
“Orphan Soul” began with an eerie stillness, a quiet that felt heavier than any previous roar. Vidick’s guitar opened with sparse, haunting chords, each note reverberating through the O2 Institute as if the walls themselves were listening. Alice Lane’s bass was almost whisper-like, a subtle undercurrent that added weight without overwhelming the fragile tension. Eugen Voluta’s drumming started restrained, measured, a heartbeat rather than a hammer, letting space dominate for the first few bars. Then Lena entered, her clean vocals delicate and vulnerable, floating above the instrumentation with a raw emotional honesty that immediately gripped the audience. The song’s lyrical narrative, about isolation, resilience, and the quiet struggle of internal battles, was magnified by her every subtle inflection, every carefully held note, making the words feel lived-in rather than performed.
The live arrangement heightened this intimacy. Lena’s voice moved between breathy vulnerability and restrained power, each line carrying tension that made the room lean in collectively. Vadick layered harmonics and subtle distortion swells behind her, threading texture into the sparse instrumentation without breaking the fragile mood. Alice’s bass shifted at key moments, giving underlining emphasis to the song’s emotional peaks, while Eugen’s cymbal swells and tom rolls punctuated moments of vulnerability and release, crafting a dynamic that ebbed and flowed like a tide.
The interplay between sound and motion deepened the song’s atmosphere, making it more than music, it was a sensory experience, an enveloping narrative that drew the crowd into the emotional core of the performance.
By the song’s conclusion, “Orphan Soul” felt like a breath held and finally released. The crowd, hushed and attentive, absorbed every nuance, every controlled flourish, and every haunting vocal slide. Infected Rain had created a space where vulnerability and strength collided, a stark contrast to their previous ferocious tracks, reminding everyone that their power lies not only in aggression but in their mastery of tension, control, and emotional depth.
The moment “Black Gold” hit, the room shifted immediately back into darkness and menace. Vidick’s guitar opened with tight, percussive chugs that felt like machine pistons, sharp and precise, while Alice Lane’s bass anchored every note with a low, metallic growl, giving the riffs an almost industrial weight. Eugen Voluta’s drums pounded like a mechanised heartbeat, snare cracks cutting through the mix with surgical precision, the double-kick patterns a relentless drive that pushed the crowd forward. Lena stood centre stage, a storm in human form. Her guttural screams tore through the heavy instrumentation, and just as quickly she pivoted into soaring clean passages that floated above the dense textures, her phrasing precise, rhythmic, and impossibly controlled. The duality of her performance, feral and melodic, chaotic and disciplined, defined the track live.
The arrangement had evolved from the studio recording, amplified for the stage. Vidick added subtle harmonics and slides between riffs, creating layers of tension that threaded through every phrase, while Alice’s bass lines occasionally mirrored the guitar or surged into counter melodies, giving a sense of controlled chaos. Eugen’s fills punctuated key transitions, lifting the tension before the chorus slammed in with devastating impact. Lena’s vocal arcs were almost operatic in their execution, commanding attention with every nuanced shift between textures, every growl and melodic note calibrated for maximum emotional effect.
The power of Lena’s vocal and her visual narrative, every spin, arch, and gesture reinforced the atmosphere of oppressive tension. The crowd reacted instinctively, fists pumped, heads snapped, and a tightly packed circle pit formed, bodies moving as a single unit under Lena’s unflinching command.
By the climax, “Black Gold” had transformed the stage into a machine of sound and movement. The track’s low-end weight, jagged guitar riffs, and vocal extremes collided to create something visceral, a sensory overload that was exhilarating rather than chaotic. The energy in the room was taut, vibrating with intensity, the audience fully immersed, not just witnessing the performance, but being pulled through it, swept up in the relentless, unflinching force that is Infected Rain live.
“Stranger” brought a sudden, almost nostalgic jolt to the night, pulling the crowd into a rawer, earlier incarnation of Infected Rain’s sound. Vidick’s guitar opened with jagged, slightly unpolished riffs, sharp and urgent, cutting through the PA with an edge that harkened back to the band’s early Moldovan underground roots. Alice Lane’s bass was upfront, gritty, driving every riff with a punchy, insistent low end that made the floor vibrate underfoot. Eugen Voluta’s drumming felt intentionally rawer here, precise but with a live, human touch, snare snaps had a bite, kick patterns a pulse that encouraged bodies to move instinctively. Lena dominated the stage with a ferocity that felt like a conversation with the crowd, her clean passages floated above the instrumentation like fragile beacons, while her harsh screams cut through with razor-sharp intent, always perfectly timed to elevate each phrase’s tension.
The live performance leaned into contrast. Lena twisted her vocals mid-line from melodic vulnerability to harsh attack, giving the track a jagged, unpredictable energy that kept the audience on edge. Vidick’s guitar lines added subtle dissonances and pinch harmonics, creating texture and urgency between Lena’s vocal shifts, while Alice mirrored or doubled the riffing at key moments, making the low end as alive and expressive as the top. Eugen punctuated transitions with fills that almost felt conversational, emphasizing beats, teasing dynamics, building tension before every chorus exploded with visceral force. The pit was tight, moving in sync with the syncopated riffs, energy coiling and snapping in rhythm with Lena’s every vocal shift.
By the finale, “Stranger” had reminded everyone of Infected Rain’s roots, raw, hungry, and unpolished, but delivered with the confidence of a band that had fully grown into their identity. The song’s early DNA came alive on stage, creating a bridge between the past and the present, and the audience absorbed it, caught between nostalgia and awe, witnessing the power of a band who had earned every note, every scream, and every pulse of their evolving sound.
“The Realm of Chaos” slammed into the room like a thunderclap, and suddenly the energy in the O2 Institute reached a new apex. Lena and Heidi Shepherd, now sharing the stage, instantly created a dynamic unlike anything before that night, two commanding female-fronted presences converging, contrasting, and amplifying each other. The track’s opening riff, tight and jagged, was executed with machine-like precision by Vidick “Vidick” Ojog, while Alice Lane’s bass hammered a low, propulsive foundation, locking in perfectly with Eugen Voluta’s aggressive drumming. The rhythm was relentless, a churning engine that drove the pit into motion almost before the first vocal line had been delivered.
Lena’s vocal delivery shifted seamlessly between harsh, guttural screams and soaring, melodic lines, while Heidi’s raw, immediate attack punctuated each chorus with an almost confrontational energy. The two voices didn’t compete, they interlocked, trading lines, harmonizing in moments of chaos, pushing the live dynamic into a space that felt explosive yet controlled. Every subtle shift in phrasing was mirrored by Vidick’s guitar articulation, harmonics screaming above the rhythmic pulse, while Alice and Eugen threaded complex patterns underneath, giving the song a layered, almost three-dimensional intensity.
Lena and Heidi, accentuated their interplay visually. The audience was locked into the storm, the pit now a swirling vortex, bodies moving in tandem with every riff, drum fill, and vocal outburst. Heidi Shepherd reappeared on the riser during key moments, her raw, immediate vocal tone interjecting like a spark into Lena’s fire. The two frontwomen wove around each other, creating a live counterpoint that pushed the energy into overdrive. Lena’s phrasing alternated between staccato bursts and long, tension-filled notes, while Heidi added weight and grit to the choruses, her presence grounding the track in human intensity. Vidick’s guitar work was equally expressive, pinch harmonics, sudden slides, and subtle feedback swells added texture, giving the riffing more than just power: it had personality and menace.
By the song’s climax, “The Realm of Chaos” had become a spectacle of controlled annihilation. The interplay between the two frontwomen, the tightness of the instrumentation, and the visual performance coalesced into a moment that felt monumental. It wasn’t just a song, it was a declaration, a demonstration of how far Infected Rain had evolved while still honouring their ferocious roots, and how live, two commanding voices could transform a track into a visceral, unforgettable experience that left the crowd both exhausted and exhilarated.
“Ut Supra” hit like a spike through the heart of the venue, and the pit responded instantly. The opening riff, delivered with precision by Vidick “Vidick” Ojog, was jagged, angular, and unrelenting, each note striking like a hammer blow. Alice Lane’s bass grounded the aggression with a low, metallic rumble, locking in with Eugen Voluta’s drums that pounded relentlessly, the double-kicks and snare accents creating a sense of unstoppable forward motion. Lena prowled the stage, every movement calculated yet animalistic, her vocals cutting sharply between guttural aggression and crystalline melodic lines, each transition landing with surgical precision. There was no letting up; the track’s intensity demanded attention, and the audience complied, bodies moving in tight, violent waves, feeding off every nuance of rhythm and attack.
By the time the song reached its final, explosive climax, “Ut Supra” had transformed the room into a tightly wound storm. The synchronized ferocity of Lena’s vocals, the precision of the rhythm section, and the visual storytelling coalesced into a moment of pure, visceral energy. The track left the audience spent but electrified, a reminder of the uncompromising power that defines Infected Rain live.
“Pandemonium” tore into the room like a controlled explosion, and suddenly every element of the night aligned into pure chaos. The opening was a relentless assault: Vidick’s guitar slicing through the PA with razor-sharp riffs, Alice Lane’s bass anchoring each note with a growling low end, and Eugen Voluta’s drums driving the rhythm with merciless double-kick precision. The track’s structure, tight and unforgiving, gave Lena room to unleash her full arsenal of vocal techniques, harsh, guttural screams, piercing high-pitched wails, and soaring melodic passages that twisted unpredictably around the instrumentation. She prowled the stage like a predator, eyes locked on the crowd, feeding off their energy, daring them to match her intensity.
Vidick’s guitar work added layers of chaos: rapid-fire tremolo picking, sharp harmonic squeals, and sudden bursts of feedback mirrored Lena’s vocal unpredictability, while Alice and Eugen maintained a deadly-accurate backbone that kept the madness coherent.
The pit became a living organism, swirling, colliding, bodies lifting and falling in rhythm with the relentless pace.
By the finale, “Pandemonium” had not just played, it had erupted. The song’s intensity, the dual-vocal attack, and the visual spectacle combined into a multi-sensory assault that left the crowd breathless, exhilarated, and completely absorbed. It wasn’t just a performance; it was an immersive embodiment of the track’s title, a perfect distillation of everything Infected Rain do best live: precision, chaos, and absolute unrelenting energy.
When “Never to Return” hit, the room shifted, still charged, still loud, but with a sense of dark reflection threading through the chaos. Lena opened with a clean, haunting vocal line, her voice ringing fragile and exposed over the subdued instrumentation. Vidick’s guitar mirrored her tone, drawing long, mournful lines over Alice Lane’s deep, resonant bass and Eugen Voluta’s precise, restrained drumming. Unlike the previous track’s ferocious intensity, this song allowed space to breathe, giving the audience time to absorb the emotional weight. It was almost cinematic, the contrast of softness and tension creating a palpable pull., the added weight and texture, a push-and-pull that made every line feel alive and urgent. Vidick’s guitar swelled at key moments, harmonics and subtle feedback adding tension without ever overwhelming, while Alice and Eugen maintained a taut, invisible tension beneath it all, the rhythm section holding the space like a heartbeat, steady but insistent. The crowd, sensing the change in energy, moved more like participants than observers, swaying, heads bowed, eyes closed, absorbing the atmospheric intensity.
By the song’s crescendo, “Never to Return” felt less like a single track and more like a chapter in a larger story. Lena’s high, clean notes soared, and the rhythm section held everything in a tension-filled suspension. When the final note fell, it landed like a weight in the chest, a moment of release, reflection, and shared intensity, proving that Infected Rain’s power isn’t just in chaos and aggression, but in the haunting spaces they create between the storms.
“Because I Let You” opened with a quiet, tension-soaked tension, the kind of atmosphere that immediately grabs attention without shouting. Lena began with clean, vulnerable vocals, each note hanging in the air, trembling slightly but carrying immense emotional weight. Vidick’s guitar added subtle, arpeggiated layers, delicate but precise, each chord carefully measured to support rather than dominate. Alice Lane’s bass underpinned the fragility, adding warmth and resonance, while Eugen Voluta’s drumming was restrained but deliberate, soft cymbal taps and light toms accentuating the ebb and flow rather than driving it forward. This was a song built on control and tension, and live, it became almost a conversation between the band and the audience.
Lena’s soaring clarity, adding grit and human weight to the otherwise ethereal mood. The juxtaposition of the two vocalists highlighted every lyric, every emotion, making the performance feel intensely intimate despite the large venue. Lena’s phrasing lingered, stretching notes to their limits, teasing the listener with almost imperceptible vibrato that conveyed vulnerability and strength simultaneously. The pit was silent for the most part, bodies frozen in collective focus, drawn into the narrative.
By the song’s midpoint, the arrangement subtly built, adding layers of guitar textures and vocal harmonies, creating the sense of an emotional swell that didn’t explode but pressed inward, settling under the skin. The final chorus landed like a whispered confession, Lena’s voice lingering in the rafters, and then eventually emitting a growl beneath it like grounding earth, and the rhythm section holding it all with perfect poise. “Because I Let You” proved that Infected Rain’s mastery of restraint and release is as potent as their most aggressive tracks, leaving the audience suspended in a moment of raw, shared feeling.
When “Judgemental Trap” hit, there was no hesitation, no quiet build, no measured tension. The track exploded immediately, a brutal, uncompromising onslaught that slammed the room from all directions. Lena didn’t just sing; she prowled the stage like a force of nature, alternating between vicious, guttural screams and piercing, almost crystalline clean vocals that cut through the thick, distorted layers with surgical precision. Vidick’s guitar work was feral, rapid-fire palm-muted chugs interspersed with searing leads and controlled feedback, each note a dagger that kept the crowd off-balance and fully engaged. Alice Lane’s bass rumbled beneath it all, a subterranean pulse that made every floorboard vibrate, while Eugen Voluta’s drumming was relentless, a perfect machine of double-kick fury and precise snare slaps, keeping the chaos perfectly in check.
The pit became an ecstatic storm, bodies colliding, spinning, lifting each other, riding the pulse of the track, feeding off every drum hit, every screaming note. The lights cut sharply, shadows flickering across the walls, reflecting the song’s relentless, chaotic energy.
By the final chorus, “Judgemental Trap” had achieved full domination, the track’s aggression, technical precision, and theatricality coalescing into an immersive spectacle. Lena’s voice soared over the walls of distortion, Vidick’s guitar shredded with unrelenting force, Alice and Eugen kept the foundation immovable, and when the final chord rang out, it wasn’t just the end of the set, it was a release so intense, so complete, the room seemed to exhale collectively, shaking with the aftershocks of what had just been unleashed. Infected Rain had finished not with a whisper, but with a definitive statement: this band doesn’t just perform, they dominate.
The room smelled of sweat, beer, and exhilaration, the kind of sensory cocktail that only a night like this can produce. The lights dimmed slowly, smoke curling in lazy, spiralling tendrils across the stage, and the crowd lingered in the charged afterglow of Infected Rain’s final onslaught. Fists were still raised, heads still nodding, bodies still vibrating from the relentless impact of “Judgemental Trap.” For a moment, you could almost hear the echoes of Black Spikes’ ritualistic drumming, their haunting chants, Agni’s commanding presence, Yaga’s fencer’s-mask menace, Mazvis’s harmonics, Sime’s rumbling basslines, and Titus’s precise, tribal beats, a reminder of where the night had started. The Gabriele’s shadow still flickered in the corners of the venue, her fluid costumes tracing a bridge between that ethereal opening and the relentless energy that followed.
Then the memory of Butcher Babies surged back. Heidi Shepherd’s feral intensity, commanding every inch of the stage, Henry Flury’s precise guitar lines, Ricky Bonanza’s relentless bass, and Dave Nickles’ pounding drums, they had transformed the room into a kinetic, living organism. “Backstreets of Tennessee” had grabbed everyone by the collar, “Monsters Ball” had turned anticipation into collective chaos, and “Magnolia Blvd.” had released it all with swagger and groove. The interplay of raw aggression and carefully crafted dynamics had left the crowd drained, but exhilarated, every scream, every note, every subtle inflection of Heidi’s vocals had landed with intention, carving itself into the memory of the night.
Infected Rain’s finale felt like a new kind of awakening. Lena and Heidi shared space like two elemental forces, fire and lightning, electric and unpredictable. Vidick, Alice, and Eugen had sculpted chaos into form, layering tight rhythms and razor-sharp riffs over vocals that could kill or comfort in equal measure. Every song, the tension of “Never to Return,” the intimacy of “Because I Let You,” the explosive ferocity of “Judgemental Trap” had led to this apex. The room wasn’t just a venue anymore; it was an organism responding to the music, every heart synced to the drums, everybody moving in rhythm with the guitar, every eye locked on the stage in collective awe.
When the lights finally cut, the instruments fell silent, and the last echoes of distortion faded into the brickwork of Digbeth, there was no doubt. This night had been more than a series of sets. It had been a journey through sound, through intensity, through emotion, through presence. Black Spikes had summoned ritual and atmosphere, Butcher Babies had unleashed fire and grit, and Infected Rain had shattered and reconstructed everything in their path. Three female-fronted forces, each distinct, each commanding, each unforgettable, proving beyond doubt that modern heavy music is not just alive, it’s evolving, daring, and unapologetically dominant. And standing there, sweat cooling and ears ringing, you felt it in your chest: you had been a part of something that would echo far beyond the walls of the O2 Institute, a night that was equal parts ritual, ferocity, and communion. Live music you RAWK!
