Photos taken at Utilita Arena, Birmingham on 05/10/2025
Let’s just cut to the chase on this one—if there were ever an excuse for why Parkway Drive aren’t among the kings of modern metal, it’s now null and void. It’s not a contentious opinion, nor is it a particularly surprising one. On a tour practically engineered to ensure that no stop goes un-pulled, it’s the exact response that’s being courted. Even more so, we’re in the thick of the European run, meaning that the near-constant buzz of Parkway Drive at the absolute top of their game has been disseminating for weeks now. Even if they played this same venue when they last stopped in Manchester in 2022 (and crushed it then, too, for the record), no one’s expecting a simple retread.
It’s also an all-Australian bill they’ve brought with them, though any semblance of expectation is diverted exclusively to the headliners. No one has set foot in this room expecting The Amity Affliction to steal the show, after all. Still, now that they’ve gotten rid of the lead weight to the ankle that was Ahren Stringer and his relentless monotone, that’s automatically a good start. They don’t sound too bad overall, actually, beefed up and bestowed with a clarity that’s a kindness from this most temperamental of spaces. Drums boom; there’s some solid weight in the breakdowns; and for a stripe of metalcore most associated with grand, widescreen emotionality, they comfortably fill the space they’ve been given. And as for new bassist / clean singer Jonathan Reeves…well, he does what’s needed of him, even if Joel Birch’s screams are the hydrogen bomb to his coughing baby. It’s also not exactly high-octane in true Amity Affliction fashion, and definitely feels its length after a while when variety is sparse at best. Still, it’s all pretty alright to open up, and the fact that they’re a long way away from their slushy pop-core backwash days is commendable enough on its own.
Thy Art Is Murder, meanwhile, are metal through and through, all the way down to being welcomed by The Vengaboys’ We Like To Party as a representation of the metalhead’s ‘lol whacky’ sense of humour. Everywhere else, levity is a foreign concept. This is the antithesis to anything fun and jubilant; with lights of deep reds and toxic-waste greens and the skull-shattering visual and aural weight of it all, it’s designed to squeeze the most brutality from this setup as humanly possible. They get there through another pretty huge sound, the MVP being Jesse Beahler and his Gatling gun drumming, although Tyler Miller is a close second thanks to possessing everything you’d want from a death metal frontman. It’s incredibly tried-and-tested with no surprises, but enrapturing all the same, and constantly so, at that. Even with the natural exhaustion point that a 40-minute block of this stuff has to be exceptional to avoid (which Thy Art Is Murder, unfortunately, aren’t and don’t), it’s never dragging its feet, either. They’re invested enough in huge presentation and a decimating energy to pass the finish line with ease.
You wanna talk presentation, though? Parkway Drive arrive from the back of the arena, escorted through the crowd and flanked by a pair of enormous flags, like they know that huge, important, undeniable things are afoot. The self-sureness only continues when they arrive at their starting point and take a minute to bask in the adulation that’s already theirs. Even huddled onto a B-stage deeper into the crowd to begin, there’s the feel of a dominant force that everyone recognises. It’s no secret that Parkway Drive are arena-metal mainstays now, and when that’s radiated out through presence alone, it is special. And even with a fraction of a grandeur they’ll enjoy throughout the night, they still utterly wreck. Carrion has its bending, breaking guitar tone and Winston McCall coming out the traps as a superstar frontman; Prey follows and is like a rockfall shaped and arranged into this bruiser of a metal track.
From then on, things get much bigger, to where it’s probably most prudent to just list the feats of production that Parkway Drive have pulled out. There are dancers; there’s a stupid amount of fire; there’s a rain shower isolated entirely on McCall for some added drama on Wishing Wells. No expense has been spared, and no corner has been cut. Moreover, there’s legitimate spectacle at play, as opposed to the bit of pyro that most arena bands bring along to justify their standing. Parkway Drive have never felt bigger and bolder than this, and that’s by a near-incalculable factor.
Of course, there’s also the pièce de résistance to address—the metal bridge that rises and lowers from the ceiling, and that the band have definitely gotten their money’s worth from. Uniting the A- and B-stages in the run-up to Glitch is only its practical use; there’s showmanship at play! For a guitarist who loves to aura-farm as Jeff Ling does, being lifted into the air to rip out the solo of Horizons is like a dream come true (just like it is to watch). It’s also where the string section for Chronos and Darker Still are lowered down from, an inclusion that’s become a staple among the Parkway Drive live experience that’s made to feel all the more significant here. And finally, there’s Crushed. You’ve seen the clips; you know what comprises the live metal moment of 2025—as Ben Gordon is spun upside down in his flaming drummer’s cage, McCall is risen one last time to conduct the fiery eruptions that this hellish breakdown deserves.
It’s all tremendously impressive stuff. Even for a seasoned veteran of arena shows, there’s something about the amount that Parkway Drive cram in that can take you aback with how well it’s used, and how little detriment to the music it has. For all talk about how Parkway Drive are killing it visually, there’s been comparatively little attention given to what got them here in the first place, and what continues to be the ultimate jewel in their crown. Obviously it’s great—it always has been—but two decades of crystallisation and the fog of excitement filling every spare corner of the AO further turns the crank with no sign of stopping. You’d be amazed that there was ever controversy around a song like Vice Grip when it now feels like the apex of enorm-metal. Ling gets another of his few moments to shine here, though nothing compares to Darker Still and that grand sting that rends soul from body in pure ecstasy.
What’s more is how there’s still a connection to their roots that Arena-Headlining Parkway Drive can roll out without it feeling like a cheap pop. Coming from plenty of others, a line like “Little disclaimer warning—old ones: heavy as fuck” might be too conscious an effort to reel back the oldheads; from McCall, it’s true as steel. Boneyards directly follows it, as a display of resolve that was apocalyptic back in 2007 and is no less so today. Going back even further than that, a ten-minute megamix of ragers from debut Killing With A Smile is an utterly alien thing to witness in an arena, but as a throwback to Parkway Drive at their scrappiest and gnarliest, they pull it off remarkably even today.
By the end of it, when metal anthems aplenty have been served and a generational gauntlet has been thrown down, you feel like you’ve watched a turning point. This isn’t your average tour fare; it’s the telltale sign of far greater. Discussions of a future Download headline slot have been tossed around more than ever (and judging from this, could be realistically imminent), but right now, Parkway Drive are here, returning to the B-stage where they began for one final bow and a fittingly calamitous rendition of Wild Eyes to close. Like everything that’s transpired over the last couple of hours, it’s a wonderful display, with a last rev of energy that’s nothing short of flawless. Clearly, that’s just the standard for Parkway Drive, strewn through a space that brings their biggest performing dreams to life and works them to perfection. It’s as good as metal gets, full stop.
Words by Luke Nuttall
