The Slam Dunk Main Stage (West, as it’s known this year) is always a glorious sight, but even more so when it’s 20 degrees and climbing—the perfect weather for pints and singalongs. Plenty of bands here feel tailor-made for Slam Dunk but today’s openers Beauty School basically were, forming out of the Leeds alternative scene, cutting their teeth at the Key Club and festival itself, and eventually getting their albums released by its label arm. It’s this history that makes this entire half hour such a triumphant one for the six-piece, frontman Joe Cabrera constantly proclaiming just how mad it is that they’re playing the biggest stage at the very festival they worked and attended for years. Though a tad rough around the edges in their delivery, the six-piece’s sunny emo sounds great in the sunshine, especially when their multiple-pronged vocal attack kicks in and adds some dimension. After inciting a mass beer-raise to friend and Key Club founder Scott Hickinson (who passed away earlier this year), the anthemic Lately and heavier Gloom bring things to the most textbook Slam Dunk close possible—there’s something for everyone in this field to love here. • GJ
The sun is beating down hard over Temple Newsam, though still not quite as hard as Pest Control, who bring their thrash-coloured hardcore to the Main Stage East.
Do many things these days inspire confidence for a baseline good more than a Dead Pony festival set? Despite being Slam Dunk greenhorns, they tend to thrive wherever the summer circuit takes them, no doubt looking to be further facilitated off their back of their new Eat My Dust! EP. Granted, for a band whose festival presence was once that of the most well-oiled alt-rock machine imaginable, today does feel like it’s testing the waters somewhat. New material is still being broken in, as far as how it fits with Anna Shields’ overall rambunctiousness. With as terrific as she is, though, it’s only a matter of time before Dead Pony are firing on all cylinders again. They aren’t even that far off it now; the favourites have lost no luster, and the extra crunch that’s been picked up always proves a good fit. Between the volume of singalongs and how proficiently they continue to be commandeered with, Dead Pony can still run with the best of ‘em. • LN
Some bands are made for festival Main Stages, the huge crowd that’s gathered at West for unpeople speaking entirely for itself. Straight from opener Waste the songs speak for themselves too—they stomp and swagger while never being cringeworthy or uninspired, chugging riffs and Lemsip-worthy screeches expertly balanced with shout-along choruses and syrupy melodies (Moon Baboon and Smother showcasing particularly masterful handling of dynamics). While the full impact of the beefy guitars can be dulled by the patchy Slam Dunk sound every so often, the cumulative effect of all four members singing at once can’t be quietened. This feels like the first of many winning Slam Dunk sets for unpeople, and it’ll certainly be in many peoples’ highlight reels from today. • GJ
The average Slam Dunk bill is no stranger to a smattering of nostalgia or several, but rarely is it as concentrated as with Madina Lake. At least they’ve not ludicrously over-benefited from it; an early-afternoon billing is probably right from a band whose last…anything was in 2020. A healthy turnout and Madina Lake’s willingness to throw themselves into their work might suggest differently, but it is. This is clearly a different generation of performance, one where frontman Nathan Leone’s shirt-and-skinny-tie ensemble was fashionable, and getting the crowd to shout out their names to get acquainted was the height of crowdwork. And yet, this is the sort of emo that, upon exposure in your formative years, never really goes away. The screams on House Of Cards definitely haven’t been wheeled out in a while, but hammering the nostalgia button over and over for Let’s Get Outta Here, Here I Stand and One Last Kiss gets the job done. For Madina Lake, you can’t really ask for much more. • LN
It almost feels criminal that Cancer Bats are playing this early in the day, but the Canadian hardcore legends have never been ones to phone it in when it comes to energy. Today is a 20-year celebration of their debut album Birthing The Giant, a revved-up contingent of punters putting in a shift in the pit to make sure the record gets the birthday bash it deserves. Vocalist Liam Cormier bounces around the Monster Energy stage like Tigger in a skull vest—only needing to grin and raise a fist for everyone to start clapping along. Rare outings of 100 Grand Canyon and Death Bros come alongside well-loved setlist stalwarts like Pneumonia Hawk and Shillelagh, new single Stay Stuck and classic Hail Destroyer ending things on a high. The have an innate talent to get a crowd going—as spectators visibly unfamiliar with Birthing The Giant slowly but surely trickle towards where the action is, it’s clear that Cancer Bats’ is exactly the spirit that Slam Dunk champions. • GJ
Just two days prior to this appearance, A released Prang, their first album in over two decades that proved that there was still a bit of fun to be had from them so far down the road. So how do they commemorate that? By coming across as dad-ly as possible, of course! Their brand of pop-rock invites it, with the likes of Foghorn and No. 1 getting by on good-natured, no-frills vibe, rather than the sharper zip that makes the sound’s descendants stick. The most remarkable part of it all is Jason Perry up front, for whom his cowboy hat and necktie seems to inform today’s cornball antics in finger-guns and mimed lasso-swings. It’s not until the peeling guitar of Shit Summer and the woozy plink of Hello Sunshine that A hit their stride, for a pop-rock stripe that’s actively more sun-seeking. That—and their perennial twin pillars of Starbucks and Nothing (the latter, with a guest turn from The Blackout’s Sean Smith, no less)—is what takes pride of place among A’s showing today. • LN
You don’t go to see Dying Wish for the newest of the new or the cuttingest of the cutting-edge. You go because they’re one of the best around at bringing 2000s metalcore into the present day, no holds barred. Preserving the hardcore ferocity of old is undoubtedly important; any non-lyric uttered is a call to mosh, crowd-surf or both. Naturally, this crowd of sweats is happy to oblige with all of it, such is the nature of Dying Wish. The slaughterfest is here in spades, with drummer Jeff Yambra deserving of a special mention for his femur-splintering tone that even the sound system of an open-air festival stage can’t dull. Emma Boster, too, is a total killer upfront, as both a screamer and singer that perfectly encapsulates the scope hit by that classic metalcore era. Even if there’s nothing in here being strained or tested, Dying Wish barely put a foot wrong for what they’re bringing. • LN
Considering this year’s weather is the closest to California’s these shores can get, there haven’t been many chances to truly embody the board shorts and baseball cap-wearing bros gracing Slam Dunk’s stages today. Enter San Francisco’s Set Your Goals to inject some much-needed party energy to the Monster Energy stage. Brandishing bubble guns and lobbing giant beach balls into the crowd, this is a band that’s all about the fun alongside the anthems. The songs are fast and furious, double-time drums and muscly gang vocals spurring the field into bro-finger pointing and circle pitting like their lives depend on it, but the choruses soar too (particularly set highlight Mutiny!). It feels like everyone here is being inducted into the happiest gang on the Slam Dunk site, and we’re sure they’d be happy to reconvene any time Set Your Goals are back in the field. • GJ
One of the coolest things about Slam Dunk is seeing once-forgotten, now-reunited bands get their flowers, that exact thing happening for Cartel right now. They may not have had the success here that they did in the US, but there’s a sizeable portion of the Monster Energy crowd singing all the words to opener Say Anything (Else) and other cuts from breakthrough album Chroma. Sun-drenched Faster Ride is another high point (its chorus packing a certain noughties je ne sais quoi you’d only find in this field), while new song Give Or Take also fares well, Will Pugh’s vocals clear and propulsive sans the studio sheen they had on their older records. It’s not the most high-octane set of the day and the bumbling stage patter needs work (Pugh declaring “this is your last chance to put your hands in the air!” on the third-to-last song is a retrospectively funny moment) but overall this set has put more watchful eyes on a possible new Cartel album in 2026 than there would have been otherwise. • GJ
Did you know that Goldfinger have only played Slam Dunk four times? Maybe it’s the festival’s insistence on preserving ska as an artform that’s necessitated repeats, but Goldfinger have always mentally sat among fellow horn-boys Reel Big Fish and Less Than Jake as a band who are always, always here. Turns out they’re not, so maybe that’s why they seem to be giving it more effort than you might anticipate. The weather is a definite factor—the eternal irony of Spokesman being a song performed by Jon Feldmann gets cloaked by how incredible it sounds in the sun—but that shouldn’t take away from Goldfinger themselves.
Embracing their age without succumbing to it (“If you don’t know what a cassette tape is, you can fuck off right now!”), the feel of classic, buoyant pop-punk rings out for miles. Freaking Out A Bit establishes how rock-solid of a unit this is, while Here In Your Bedroom introduces the spongy horn section to heat things up further. Added covers of The Cure’s Just Like Heaven, NOFX’s Linoleum and their staple Nena rendition 99 Red Balloons streamline the big, uncomplicated fun, if that were needed. All the while, there’s a joy to be found that plasters even Feldmann’s besuited, businessman form. Even a scene magnate such as he can be swayed into leading a chant of “One-nut Nick!” upon the revelation(?) that drummer Nick Gross only has one testicle. Such is the magic of Goldfinger at Slam Dunk, it would appear. • LN
As easy as it’d be to presume that a certain other Australian pop-rock crew arriving not even two hours later would steal every clap of their thunder, Stand Atlantic aren’t here to just lie down. The initial trudge of KISSIN’ KILLER COBRAS lands as a false start, but after that? Yeah, it’s genuinely great. Even for a band for whom cohesion among eras is mostly an afterthought (see how Lavender Bones is orders more organic than literally everything else), everything for Stand Atlantic seems to fall into place. Bonnie Fraser rarely gets the credit she deserves as a vocalist, if for no other reason than how far out the typical pop-rock wheelhouse her screams on CRIMINAL are. Beyond that, she’s a natural mouthpiece for the giant nu-metal bounce of WARZ0NE and the ribald strut of Sex On The Beach. On the lighter end of things, Hate Me (Sometimes) and new cut Velcro glitter in the perfect sunshine, testament to what Stand Atlantic can reach at their sharpest and most crystalline. Even the rowboat pit coerced out of NOSE BLEED isn’t as cringe as it tends to be (probably because no one seems to know what’s wanted of them). Just an all-around phenomenal time, honestly. • LN
For how influential Chris Carrabba has been for plenty of bands who’ve graced Slam Dunk’s stages, this is somehow Dashboard Confessional’s first ever time playing the festival. As the singer takes to Main Stage West alone he gets a hero’s welcome from the ever-growing crowd, opener The Best Deceptions played in its usual acoustic way before a late full-band entrance and gorgeous, full-bodied crescendo. For every Dashboard Confessional fan there’s a detractor hurling ‘wet blanket’ insults their way; these fleshed-out renditions of songs like The Sharp Hint Of New Tears and The Good Fight feel like the optimum way to appreciate them. While the recorded versions are Carrabba dealing with raw emotions in real time, this feels like the healed version (hammered home by his intro of “We specialise in songs about bad weather and sadness, even though we’re from South Florida and happy), much like most listeners’ journeys will have been when hearing everything as teenagers for the first time. For diehard fans this is 45 minutes of pure catharsis, the closing one-two of Vindicated and Hands Down some of the loudest singing the festival has heard this year so far. With a reaction like this, Dashboard Confessional can’t leave it this long ever again. • GJ
The Monster Energy stage has housed some of the most joyful moments of the festival so far, with Scranton punk mainstays The Menzingers adding another one to the tally. Greg Barnett and Tom May are the perfect dual frontmen, one warm and heartfelt, the other excitable and bouncy. A marriage of both sides makes for the ideal summer festival singalong, bona fide anthems like Good Things and Hope Is A Dangerous Little Thing sure to make you throw your arms round your mates. It’s all incredibly organic and wholesome, particularly when the two singers start a Viking chat then backtrack to check they haven’t offended the crowd re: invasions (the consensus ends up being “fuck Vikings” for those interested). As glorious closer After The Party rings out, the feeling is the same as coming home from the pub with your nearest and dearest, emotionally reenergised and not ready for the night to end. • GJ
“Do you remember us? We’re Tonight Alive.” So beams Jenna McDougall as she and the rest of her band arrive on these shores for the first time in eight years. With the bumper crowd they pull, it’s clearly a facetious ask, but nevertheless, Tonight Alive play like they’ve got everything to prove. Not that that takes long; the soaring, somersaulting anthemia of The Edge arrives first, and immediately, they’re back in business. What follows is as comprehensive a comeback as you’re likely to see, a whistlestop tour through Tonight Alive’s catalogue that, no matter where it lands, is perfectly rendered. It’s the juxtaposition between the blazing sun and stormy alt-rock of a song like Crack My Heart that feels most impressive, paradoxically lifted higher by its chorus’s slab-dragging guitars.
Without someone like McDougall at the helm, though, this would seem nowhere near as radiant. Other than Jake Hardy cocking his leg on a cab to shred briefly on The Fire, McDougall is the front-facing linchpin, always on and always tremendous. With a record-perfect voice and jubilant, effervescent demeanour to match, she’s the key to making this feel like an event. Cut that back, and this is a reunion out of obligation. But as she gets into the crowd and generates a pit around her for the cover of Mumford & Sons’ Little Lion Man, the mic picks up declarations of love and how much McDougall means to those here. It’s not hard to believe; almost a decade’s absence will do that. Thus, as Stand Atlantic’s Bonnie Fraser returns to duet on Disappear, and Temple feels like an ultimately vital haymaker, you forget how the album they came from was such a dud, because there’s no indication that that’s even possible. This evening, Tonight Alive simply can’t miss. • LN
Another set, another iconic pop punk band playing Slam Dunk for the first time in ten years. This time it’s Motion City Soundtrack, who are as firmly in the ‘beloved’ tier for the festival’s smaller stages as a band can be. While cuts from latest album The Same Old Wasted Wonderful World possess a grounded wisdom beneath the classically nerdy lyrics, their older material is through-and-through misfit-core, their stream-of-consciousness spiels of insecurity and awkwardness always having a glint of optimism shining through. It’s heartening seeing a crowd of people who’ve (presumably) overcome such feelings themselves screaming A Life Less Ordinary and Capital H—it’s exactly the kind of nostalgia-fuelled catharsis Slam Dunk has made itself a name for (much like Dashboard Confessional on the main stage earlier).
Justin Courtney Pierre’s dancing is a separate feat alongside the songs too, the singer unleashing his Stepercise Dad, Tai Chi Robot and Anguished Mime personas whenever the moment calls for them. Everything is Alright is one of the anthems one has to know before buying a Slam Dunk ticket and it sounds magnificent today. It’s almost too straightforward a hit for Motion City Soundtrack though, The Future Freaks Me Out the right move as a closer to give these former uncomfortable teens one last wee-woo synth for the year. • GJ
Now helmed by Jakob Nowell for their first ever UK shows, Sublime take to the Main Stage West to bring some of the ‘90s’ most enduring ska-punk cuts to life.
Pardon the easy pun, but State Champs headlining the Monster Energy Stage is a guaranteed slam dunk. One of the most reliable live pop-punk bands around, on it from the first note of Silver Cloud and never dipping once? And with the weather so on their side, you’d believe they made a deal with Mother Nature herself? Sure sounds pretty nailed-on. Indeed, there’s not a coarse edge or errant thread to be found, and it’s entirely to State Champs’ credit. This is their fifth time at Slam Dunk, and all of that experience is funnelled into everything that works. Hooks are piled sky-high, seasoned by Derek DiScanio’s rasp. Bassist Ryan Scott Graham’s spinning through Mine Is Gold represents the springy, animated tone adopted by everyone. The whole thing is just a textbook case of how to do this well, even down to punching up their otherwise middling newer fare. The likes of Clueless and Criminal rub shoulders with some of the best pop-punk of the century so far, with next to no friction or disruption. It’s not one for the books or anything, but for what State Champs offer, it’s as good as it possibly could be. • LN
Anniversary celebrations of albums are all the rage in Slam Dunk’s pop-punk and emo sets, but most nostalgia-core for the 2010’s Britrock scene has come from broken-up bands reuniting. Kids In Glass Houses, Mallory Knox and The Blackout have all had victory laps on the festival site, but Deaf Havana’s celebration of 2011’s Fools And Worthless Liars set today packs a different punch. Other than Twin Atlantic (who’ve veered more towards the indie / radio-rock side of things), Deaf Havana are the lone soldiers still trucking on. It makes opener The Past Six Years super emotional—James Veck-Gilodi saying he’ll never reach the successes of his now-defunct peers Lower Than Atlantis and Young Guns to a packed-out Key Club tent screaming the words back is surely an ‘I’ve made it’ moment.
Further in, these older songs still soar—I Will Try and Little White Lies showing off the pop sensibilities they’ve always had while Anemophobia and I’m A Bore, Mostly even more brutally honest versions of the classic emotional depth and soul-searching of Veck-Gilodi. Even their heavier songs (real ancient history) are revitalised, The Blackout’s Sean Smith coming out for Friends Like These and getting a raucous reception (“We always said we’d never play it again but it’s been the most fun moment of the set”). The foray into ‘the hits’ towards the tailend shows just how good a track record this band have had too—Trigger, Sinner and Boston Square all immaculate in their own ways. Seeing a band who’ve been quietly, consistently great finally get their flowers is a perfect way to round out the Key Club stage for the year, a testament to how holy a space Slam Dunk is for such artists. • GJ
At some point, you have to wonder what Knocked Loose’s upper limit is. Like, there has to be one; they can’t just keep ascending forever, right? Well, you never know. Right now, hardcore as a genre seems to be at their beck and call, quite literally for tonight’s headline set. Guests include Malevolence, Heriot, Pest Control, and a double header of Static Dress’ Olli Appleyard and Loathe’s Kadeem France on Billy No Mates, a spread of one’s wildest windmilling dreams. And while much of the legwork has already been done for them (most of those names were on this stage’s lineup today), the assembly is all Knocked Loose. When you’re the current kingpins of the scene, it’s entirely possible.
Speaking of which, that’s not an accolade that’s come out of nowhere. The fact that they’re currently at their grandest without concession should seal that, and the spectacle is important in all of this. As permanent fixtures, the sickly green crucifix and lighting that leaves the band as silhouettes are visually impressive as they are harsh and unfriendly. It’s indicative of everything this band should be, as the cry of “We’re Knocked Loose—are you ready to lose your minds?!” is the call to action. Bryan Garris assumes his role as hardcore’s resident honey badger, a gnashing, writhing little monster of a man who, with enough time in his presence, could convince you that he’s the deadliest thing on earth. A crowd compelled to go feral in his presence serves as the perfect mirror. Top that off with a command of devastating scale and a rhythm that utterly rips among it, and you’ve got yet another helping of what makes Knocked Loose so special. As of now, that ceiling is nowhere to be seen. • LN
On the face of it, Good Charlotte seem like a great choice for a Slam Dunk headliner. They have the hits, they have the fame, they…have a new album and tour tickets to flog. But half an hour into their set tonight, it’s clear how dry a performance this is from one of the supposed heavyweights of this scene.
And that’s always been the problem with Good Charlotte. When forced to move on from their ‘regular schlub wanting more’ schtick as soon as they became the very ‘rich and famous’ they once denounced, they lost any of the fire they ever had in their bellies. They didn’t need to achieve perfection or even decent quality with their later albums because it didn’t matter, they’d lose nothing. This set is more of the same. Madden speaks about how proud they are of the show they’ve concocted, but it never once feels like too much work has gone into it. The band stand in front of a screen projecting various designs of skulls and grand buildings in various settings, Madden is entirely banter-free, communicating with the audience through platitudes and clichés (if this is really the most fun you’ve ever had, please tell your face, Joel), never once going off-script, pyro and lone fireworks presumably meant to take this to real showstopper territory.
It really is the songs that do the heavy lifting here. The River is a fantastic opener with real stakes and edge, Girls & Boys, The Motivation Proclamation and Little Things all welcome singalongs with real star power. Predictable is a classic angsty anthem (although Madden delivers the ranting bridge like he’s annoyed someone’s left the toilet seat up instead of someone having a nervous breakdown) and I Just Wanna Live is the exact opposite, a tongue-in-cheek (perhaps?) party anthem. There’s quite a bit of filler amongst the highlights, but you can’t argue with Lifestyles Of The Rich And Famous and The Anthem as a closing one-two. In terms of hit factor, Good Charlotte will have left a lot of people satisfied today. But as headliners (particularly for Slam Dunk’s 20th year), surely we need to demand more oomph than this. • GJ
Words by Georgia Jackson (GJ) and Luke Nuttall (LN)
Photos by Faye Roberts (Instagram)
