LIVE REVIEW + PHOTOS: Amon Amarth – O2 Apollo, Manchester – 09/10/2026

“Good evening, Manchester,” bellows Amon Amarth chief Johan Hegg, “and welcome…to Valhalla!”

Yes, the Viking LARP is still ongoing, but you can’t blame them for it. It’s dedication that’s gotten Amon Amarth this far in the first place, not only as one of melodic death metal’s most enduring names, but as the face and standard-bearers of their Norse-inspired subgenre. No one will ever be more associated with the phrase ‘Viking-metal’ than Amon Amarth; they’ve ensured it. They’ve just released their 13th album of the stuff, and the shows aren’t dwindling. Tonight’s Manchester date is the first of an extensive UK and European run, the notion being that demand is still high and the willingness to meet it is equally so. They aren’t one of the most celebrated live acts in metal for nothing, after all.

Before that, though, is the dissonance of having melodeath tentpoles Soilwork as the opener. They’ve been around almost as long as tonight’s headliners with nearly as much music to their name, but evidently not the same pulling power. Makes sense when it takes them so long to get going, between a late start and a frankly disastrous start with The Nurturing Glance. Rasmus Ehrnborn’s bass is inaudible; the guitars and drums sound wishy-washy at best; Björn ‘Speed’ Strid is at least putting the effort in on vocals, but the chorus of this one should be going off, not just about pulling everything together. The cheer towards the end Bastian Thusgaard’s kit-work is deigned some muscle says it all.

Things do pick up from there, not to an incredible degree but enough to stop this from being a wash. Strid is strong throughout, and leaving on a whistle-tone scream is a great way to curry some final bits of favour. The sound gets remedied, too, and by the big, bouncy sweep of Distortion Sleep and the thrashier offcuts of Spirit Of No Return, Soilwork seem as well-oiled as a band in their stead should. Particular shoutout to Simon Johansson, who’s always game for a killer solo whenever the call arrives. Altogether, it’s nothing overly special, but enough gets sorted out to leave a good impression.

Orbit Culture, next, have a higher, more stable floor, but also produce significantly less to talk about. Maybe that’s because they’re often in a total darkness and there’s nothing to see; maybe it’s just their uniformly good performance. The latter is worth the most focus, thanks to how thundering an opener Redfog is (particularly Christopher Wallerstedt’s kickdrums), and how they can keep it up throughout. The Tales Of War crushes with a guitar tone that’s something else. Directly after, Strangler has Niklas Karlsson go into his most comprehensive James Hetfield impression, with even some more erratic lights to hammer in how this is the highlight. There’s even a wall of death (attempt) on While We Serve, to lock in Orbit Culture as a high-calibre modern melodeath band. Even with quite literally a lack of flash, they deliver a hearty helping, nonetheless.

Of course, tonight, neither Orbit Culture nor Soilwork can hold a candle to Amon Amarth. This is their show, as if the lion’s share of production didn’t make that abundantly clear. The default stage setup is enough—two rune-inscribed pillars; dragon heads on either side of the drums; projections of the Bifrost or berserkers or whatever other bit of Nordic imagery is called for. Later on sees the addition of more elaborate characters and scenes, like Odin on War Of The Gods, or the swordfight during The Way Of Vikings, or the inflatable sea monster looming over Twilight Of The Thunder God. Amon Amarth are not ones for subtle narrative weaving, much to their credit. It’s way more fun to have these big set pieces that match the valiant thrust of the music.

If anything, it’s an intrinsic part of the appeal. That overplayed might is what you come to Amon Amarth for, on every front. They’re not a band for whom diversity and variety are key to their appeal, nor could they even pretend to be. The closest to a ‘left turn’ that they come is Upphaf, acoustic around a mid-stage campfire, with a throaty vocal rumble and hammered percussion. Regardless, the vibe is still Viking-esque, just more haunted and hallowed. It’s a nice breather in a set that doesn’t particularly need one, but also doesn’t falter for it.

As for the main attraction, though…well, it’s obvious there’s been decades’ worth of road-testing behind this, become Amon Amarth fire on all cylinders. They, too, fit their own Viking demeanour, whether it’s Hegg’s warrior-like stance and triumphant roar, or the three shredding longhairs accompanying him and cutting their own valorous silhouettes. It’s the epitome of metal showmanship, even outside of the theming, but massively aided with it. Take Deceiver Of The Gods, for instance, in which a skull-faced stage invader squares up each band member before being vanquished by Hegg (read: pushed and kicked a bit). There’s some real charm in a band as long-running as this still being up for a bit of textbook metal roleplay. Not that there’s much of a serious streak to Amon Amarth anyway (Hegg fully locked in to his chest-pounding speeches will never not be entertaining), but the love of the game hasn’t dulled a bit.

It’s the simplicity at the concept’s core that does the most there, in how there’s no need to be more than fun, heavy, and absurdly huge. The commitment to a faithful represention of mythology and folklore is one thing; having Saxon’s Biff Byford record a video contribution for Saxons And Vikings is another. Populism is at the heart of Amon Amarth, and that never misses. Put Your Back Into The Oar is a known commodity now, famed for the bit where everyone sits down and pretends to row (“…like Vikings!” says Hegg). We Rule The Waves is a great thematic follow-up, but also shows off the band’s propensity for a chorus that threatens to blow the roof off. It’s the same with the galloping, blistering Eight Legs Of Thunder, and the trad-metal rager Raise Your Horns.

For almost two hours, this goes on, and there’s barely a dip to speak of. In terms of size and reach, Amon Amarth might have hit their limit at this point, but within that limit? Genuinely some of the most fun, high-effort showmanship that can cram into a theatre venue like this. And they’d have every right to rest on their laurels by now; they seem fully aware of their status. That wouldn’t be the done thing, though, and the way of the warrior is what keeps them charging forth. From now till Ragnarök, Amon Amarth will continue to rule.

Words by Luke Nuttall

Photos by Maryleen (Instagram / Website)