Review & Photos by Phil Rozier for MPM
So, it’s a quiet night, Saturday 25th October, around 5:30pm. I’ve got a glass of red on the go, dinner in the oven, and I’m wrapped in comfy clothes, winding down with my better half after a day battling the wet, wild, and windy weather off the north Kent coast.
The relaxing calm is abruptly shattered by the piercing annoyance of my own stupidity: I’d forgotten to put my phone on silent. Ping! Ping! I was faced with two choices, either launch the phone against the wall, or politely check who was daring to disturb me on a sacred Saturday evening.
“Are you in?” pings Darren, the gaffer at Metal Planet Music.
“In?” I think. What do you mean in?
Oh no. He means in the O2, for the Megadeth show I was supposed to be attending. My skin instantly goes cold; the shiver could’ve ruptured the ground. I thought the gig was Sunday, not Saturday! Have I just missed one of the most life-defining opportunities a metal fan could ever ask for?
Not only was I meant to be at Megadeth’s evening show, but I’d also been one of the luckiest people alive and invited to the press launch of Megadeth’s very own beer, Rattlehead.
Utterly panicked, I frantically check the tinterweb. All signs point to the event being Sunday the 26th. “It’s tomorrow!” I exclaim, feeling slightly sick.
“Got you, lol,” comes the reply, pinging back instantly.
Phew. All is well. Colour returns to my face. Now, where’s that wine?
Fast forward to 11:50am, Sunday 26th October. I’m at the Intercontinental Hotel in London, just beside the O2. Without going into detail, I was a touch late. But no matter, I wasn’t the only one. Including the band! If Megadeth can be late, then so can I.
Their slightly delayed arrival only added to the intensity. I’m sitting in a second-floor conference room with views stretching north over the Thames, mingling with now-familiar faces from Total Rock and other music “magazines.” The generous folks at Outside Organisation (special shoutout to Andre!) had laid on a spread of ice-cold Rattlehead beers. Both the IPA and the zero-alcohol version were there to be sampled. And sample I did.
At a comfortable 4.5% and labelled with “Taste No Evil,” the IPA is genuinely delicious. Not too fruity, but zestier than a lager, it quickly became the talking point of the room. One beer turned into another, and after an early start and not much to eat, that 4.5% by can number two, was feeling a little stronger than anticipated.
I’m just about to meet Dave Mustaine and the rest of Megadeth, nearly 33 years after I bought Countdown to Extinction as my first-ever CD. I’m getting light-headed and probably only a can or two away from losing the ability to speak clearly. But what a way to go. Half cut, on Megadeth’s beer, in front of the band themselves.
Anyway, in case any employment police are reading – I was sensible and well within the bounds of professional conduct.
I’m not sure how to categorise myself in this context. Am I a writer? A music journalist? A beer connoisseur? I’m not sure I qualify for any of the above.
So with that in mind, let’s get back to the basics.
The beer was excellent. Megadeth had arrived and taken their places at the front of the room on elevated stools, settling in for a relaxed interview with none other than Phil Alexander himself. A well-recognised voice in the world of rock, Phil’s composure, style, and calm presence put the room at ease. He coaxed Dave Mustaine into opening up about the story behind the brew.
It had been a long time coming, with quality and taste leading the charge. As Dave explained, the beer wasn’t about profit. Megadeth had given him the freedom to focus on the product rather than the margins. And honestly, it shows. It’s a great beer, and I’ll be getting some. You can order it online, and even our chums at Tesco will be stocking it soon.
It wasn’t long before the more sensible and professional Alexander was dragged down to the lowest common denominator, the journo rabble, as we bounced around ideas for alternative beer names inspired by Megadeth songs. “Beer Sells but Who’s Buying?” was a particular favourite. Another rib-tickler was watching Alexander try to explain the meaning of the word tipple. Our American cousins from across the pond still have a few things to learn, it would seem. ‘Sounds like nipple’. You had to be there.
The interview was excellent, with contributions from all the band. Phil’s professionalism and poise, despite delays, language barriers, and the slightly unconventional nature of a music-branded beer clearly explain why he’s still at the top of his game after 30-odd years.
With just minutes to go before Megadeth’s soundcheck at the neighbouring O2 Arena, we were given time to shake hands, ask questions, and generally natter with the forefathers of thrash. Chatting with Dave, we touched on martial arts, a mutual passion, and I was introduced to the man mountain that is Dave’s head of security and martial arts teacher.
Unique, inspiring, and thoroughly enjoyable. There’s not much more this fanboy can add to what was one of the greatest and most unexpected hours of my 45 years so far.
Fast forward about four hours, and it’s nearly showtime. This review is about Megadeth’s performance at the O2, not the fact that a fellow snapper I was with got poo’d on by a pigeon while we queued in the cold for our photo passes. Spinal Pap, anyone? It’s only rock ’n’ roll, but I like it.
Skin O’ My Teeth ignites the crowd’s anticipation, and a sold-out arena erupts as Dave and his gang unleash those fretboard power chords into one of Megadeth’s most recognisable riffs. The sound is thunderous. While I try to focus my lens and get the right shot, my ears are getting bombarded by air-moving power. This latest Megadeth lineup is astonishingly precise and articulate. Within seconds, I’m honestly thinking this could be the best-sounding iteration of the band yet.
There’s barely a two-second pause before Hangar 18 kicks in and continues to deafen me. I’m not joking, my security-supplied earplugs (a legal requirement in the press pit, pay attention kids) were no match for the might of a Gibson V, Explorer, and Spectre low end, all roaring through stupendous Marshall cabinets.
With the chrome of the instruments dazzling the crowd, the lights shift from purple to green to that warm glow of “after white.” She-Wolf wraps up the first three tracks, and I’m out of the pit, heading to my seat to enjoy the rest of the show.
Those of you familiar with my rantings may recall that just a couple of weeks ago, I got trapped in the O2. Wedged between the stage exit and service corridors, missing 40 minutes of a show. Lesson learned. This time, it’s a different story. Hot-footing it over the barrier, I’m waving my seated ticket at security, trying to get directed to Block 111. Naturally, it’s on the opposite side of the arena. No bother, Arnie’s Last Action Hero soundtrack banger Angry Again is not the worst backing track to wade through a crowd to. It reminded me of queuing for a pint at British Summer Time in Hyde Park, watching Lemmy and Motörhead perform. Probably the best queue I’ve ever had the displeasure of standing in. Great days.
Anyway, I’ve gone off on one again. Where were we? Ah yes—Block 111. A comfy seat (for review support, obviously, not because of my age), beer in hand, and I’m utterly in awe as song five of the set, Sweating Bullets, kicks in. So far, it’s a pretty historic setlist, and the crowd is in absolute bits. The standing arena looks alive. Like a single organism pulsing back and forth, in and out of focus as the shifting lights cast shadows across the crowd.
From the front of the runway, James Lomenzo steps into the spotlight. The strumming of bass chords to the opening bars of song seven gets a frenzied response. As the chords turn to single notes, Teemu erupts with that guitar. The toms of the tubs and the chest-thumping kick drum build the tension until Dave returns to the stage after a brief moment behind the curtain. It’s the perfect soundtrack to his reappearance as he rips through the opening riff of Trust. Goosebumps don’t even come close.
The recently released Tipping Point takes the eighth spot in the set. Comically dubbed Tipple Point earlier during the press conference. A wry smile creeps across my face as Dave takes the mic, talking about the new single and teasing the album to follow. Is he trying hard not to call it Tipple Point?
The squeal of artificial harmonics takes centre stage during Tornado of Souls as Dirk whips the crowd into a roar. There’s no time to breathe; Mechanix roars into force. Classic thrash. And for fans, you’ll know the history. What this song is, what it was inspired by, what it’s been, and what it’s become. A true classic, played by the legend who wrote it. It’s incredible that after all these years, the live performance of Mechanix doesn’t skip a beat. If you’re one of the Four Horsemen – take heed. This song truly brings the apocalypse.
Nearing the end of the set, Lomenzo takes to the solo runway one last time, his echoing bass filling the arena with Peace Sells. It can’t be a Megadeth show without it. From the album of the same name, released in ’86, this track is now a solid 40 years old. It doesn’t age, it just gets louder. The crowd welcomes Vic Rattlehead to the stage as he interacts with each band member. Interestingly, he’s not animatronic, not a bloke on stilts. This monster of a man is genuinely just a massive guy, dwarfing the band to the crowd’s delight. I’d already met a man mountain earlier today… could it be?
With just two tracks to go, Symphony of Destruction blasts the arena all the way to the highest sky-high seats. That riff, over 30 years old, still ignites thrash lovers. One of the all-time greats from the ’92 album, played with precision on Dave’s natural wood signature Gibson Flying V. The continual purple and green lights mesmerise fans, both young and old (and yes, some are definitely getting old). That said, it’s not uncommon these days to see little early rockers on the shoulders of their dads, oversized ear defenders and all. How cute. Cute, and a thrash metal show. Who would’ve thought we’d be saying that 40 years on from when the movement began?
Concluding one of the best Megadeth shows I’ve ever seen, the truly global quartet, led by Mustaine and his historical legacy, launches into Holy Wars. It aggressively takes the crowd beyond the edge. Even the security guards are rocking out, sneaking quick peeks over their shoulders when they’re supposed to be monitoring the crowd.
Black denim, lots of hair, shiny guitars, and decades of collective experience make this current Megadeth lineup one of the strongest yet. If the next album truly is their last, then fair play to them. Dave has led this vision for over 40 years, and if 2026 sees their final bow, it’ll be met with nothing but love and respect for the pure joy this music has given millions across generations.
