Words by: Belinda Quick
Photos by: Michael Lockheart
‘Returning home again is clean water to my parched mouth; it is air, rich in oxygen, to my lungs as I gasp for breath’ – Tosin Oyeniyi, Home Coming
Following the epic success of 2024’s FROTH & FURY FEST, it was with shock and apprehension that the festival’s organisers (Jason North, and Anita Decoster) announced a hiatus in 2025. Thus guaranteeing thousands of devoted patrons of the unique South Australian showcase to return in 2026, bigger and better than ever, noting the current state of the music festival industry one could be forgiven for caution.
Yet, none needed to be nervous; declaring an inaugural recreation of Adelaide, Froth went West to Perth this year, honouring not one but two state capitals missed since the collapse of Australia’s national heavy music gathering, SOUNDWAVE. A resounding success by all accounts, on the last day of January, it was time to bring Froth back home.
The Royal Adelaide Showgrounds Grand Circle cross-sectioned by eponymous twin stages, black figures float towards the Fury side for CONTROL THE SUN. Fortunately living up to their name, the temperature has dropped considerably, today’s climate concerns the thick cloud cover trapping residual heat from the recent heatwave producing stifling humidity.
Artists and crew alike performing a controlled test last weekend in Perth, Froth will forever be South Australia’s. Carrying the hallmarks of Adelaide, bars outnumber stages several times over and metalheads of all ages and styles scatter across the showgrounds for the first time since the glory days of the BIG DAY OUT.
Jubilee Pavillion converted into a context-specific hub stocking merch and memorabilia, across the atrium showbag vendors have been replaced with temporary roller derby rinks and bleachers, wrestling rings and the undercover darkness of The Compound. Iron Clad, like the returning jousting troupe, it’s a specialty stage BROKEN LOOSE from the main arena and arguably the envy of them, also.
The first of many rounds between Adelaide’s rollers underway, Illuminastis in black and white tousle with Trash and Valkyrie Vixen in BONE REAPER battles between bands. The third stage sets changing over, From the Throne to the Gutter, stage to pit, performers of all persuasions revel as the afternoon arrives.
Michael Boakes actively announces the mission statement of I CHOOSE VIOLENCE. Hometown deathcore heavyweights burn on stage, each a Human Effigy waging a War of the Damned, shoutout the Adelaide faithful punctuating the space between songs. Gleeful banter about the heat ensues, reminding the audience that this could have all happened last weekend; Dragged Across Concrete we’d be melting in the 43° heat.
Recently reformed and Breathing Fire, local legends DOUBLE DRAGON take The Compound stage and attract an enormous crowd of devotees. Lee Gardiner screaming ‘Let’s fucking go!’ Dead But Still Killing takes Adelaidians young and old on an intense journey Beneath the City of Churches.
Melbourne’s ALGOR MORTIS ‘spills forth as an amalgamation of brutal death metal and beatdown hardcore. Vocalist Cecilia Keane the epitome of enigmatic – unassuming until she unleashes her inhuman guttural growls – expresses the band’s gratitude for an unexpected appearance today. A display of Sadistic Enlightenment, turning Eyeballs to Entrails, Benjamin Cunningham shreds on guitar as we collectively Taste the Wound.
Finding impetus to depart the shadows, it’s time to watch GRIDIRON play on the oval. The first international act of my day, the American ‘pandemic project’ asks us to ‘pack it in‘ and ‘jump, jump, jump!‘ Creating Poetry from Pain, they Talk Real and push beyond 24/7 with 25-8 nu-metal energy. ‘There’s no time for standing still‘; I will Matthew Karll’s requests to ‘move’ apply to the universally slow-moving bar queues, so I can return to the shade of the grandstand to watch the second-half of this amazing act unencumbered.
The sun high and pit swarming for the OC’s metalcore militia, BLEEDING THROUGH’s Brandon Schieppati soars On Wings of Lead across the barrier. ‘It’s a party now, motherfuckers; you better show me what the fuck you’ve got!‘ January’s release, We Want the Truth conjures expressions of wonderment: ‘What a festival, never did I think we’d play on the same lineup as ABBATH and alongside COMEBACK KID.’ Foreshadowing, the latter’s Andrew Neufeld joins the Resistance, part of a final Confession before his band takes the stage.
Partners in Crime, Comeback Kid announce themselves in supreme hardcore style. Time’s up and Talk is Cheap, we’re invited to watch False Idols Fall; as long as ‘You’re okay, Adelaide’ let’s ‘split it open (for) the circlepit song of the 2000s‘. Bright Lights Keep Shining on-and-off stage, the impressively choreographed strobes wasted against the clearer-than-ever southern skies. Never Losing Patience for the classics, Final Goodbye is thankfully only the halfway point. ‘We’ve got a lot of songs, you know‘, there’s plenty of Heavy Steps yet to take; Step Ahead, enjoy it, for this is All In A Year that we’ll get.
Punches thrown in the final duels of the afternoon, anarchy reigned as the Grim Reaper flayed, knights fell victim to the sword as Wrestle Rampage prepared to take the nightshift intermissions. Whoever thought that costumery was only for the main stage never considered Iron Clad, who battle in and during PRIVATE FUNCTION, nor Leah Lovegrove or Amber ‘The Empress of Darkness’ with their Vixen’s Scream.
Rejoice the arrival of the Dreadbringer! Opening a Vault of Horrors, Belgians ‘so happy to be here today’ ask, ‘Who’s ready for some death metal’ Retrogore? A Brotherhood of Sleep awakening devils inside The Compound, Dirk Verbeuren’s perfectly circular hairspins coalesce with Siebe Hermans’ machine-gun drumming and Sven de Caluwe’s deathly growls; a collaboration of Infinite Terror, the musical equivalency of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.
‘Eight years since we’ve been here’, the same length of time has elapsed since they’ve lived in ‘a socially accepting place’, a blasphemous chant goes up among the Death Cult. Exercising and exorcising, The Saw and the Carnage Done all-too swiftly, all hail ABORTED!
Froth & Fury’s set of the day achieved, Caluwe has some final thoughts to share ‘before (we) go. These last couple of years have been some serious shit. All that matters is that we’re here and we’re together’, for one more Frothing good time and with ARCHSPIRE, the Belgians’ techdeath Involuntary Doppelganger.
The Canadians Bleed the Future and share their own dystopian predictions. Not wanting ‘to get too political’, a woeful tale is told, redemption the Leg of Leviticus punchline for drummer, Spencer Moore. According to the frontman, a man gifted with a Golden Mouth of Ruin, starlings flock to The Compound in Human Murmuration and add rungs to the Carrion Ladder. A precise sextet, Oli Peters is the supreme Drone Corpse Aviator, joker and emcee of encouragement.
The time arriving, all the Wasting Away in the heat of the day has led to this; MAX CAVALERA and NAILBOMB Vai toma no Fury stage. Aside from the man himself, sampler Alex Cha is a headbanging, hair whipping sensation. None of this 24 Hour Bullshit, ‘Bomb is a band built upon the Sum of Your Achievements and celebrates as such. Simultaneously the moment when the whole HEAVY MAG crew came together, this is truly a highlight of today and this Sick Life.
‘Get Some motherfuckers!‘ SNOT explode, ready to take us on a Joy Ride back to the golden age of music – the late-90s. Of course, without founding vocalist Lynn Strait (R.I.P.), 2025’s reformation with Andy Knapp offers the nu-metal return the world so sorely needs. An historical cycle to be proud of, the Snooze Button alarm sounding wakes this Absent minded reviewer caught in the moment; there’s only minutes to get back to the main stage.
Twin stages gutted of flesh, so to speak, smoke billows from the skeletal scaffolding revealing the almighty SOULFLY family. The Cavalera clan lit in emergency tones, patriarch Max gruffly repeats the instruction: ‘Storm the Gates!‘ To have No Hope=No Fear, under the shroud of darkness Chama is lit; Igor Amadeus on bass and drummer Zyon following the Tribe leader, their father, to fulfil and continue the Prophecy. Fire breathing, Bambklaatt beams in red as guitarist Mike DeLeon roars and emphatically punches the air.
No Pain No Power from 2025’s LP featuring Dino Cazeres in recording (the patriarch of 2024’s legacy act, FEAR FACTORY), Soulfly’s trademark tribalism is on show under saturated emerald lighting. The Nihilist counting ‘une, dos, tres, scream!’ raindrops start to fall with a touch of Dystopia after such a sustained heatwave, we dance rain or shine and Bleed for Soulfly.
Usually unorthodox to stray from the mainstage headliner, it is not so today. Fitted with pyrotechnics that almost immediately ignite a full force POLARIS show, 2026’s Froth & Fury Fest truly belonged to The Compound, the heaviest of metal and first time experiences. Thus, it was only fitting that ABBATH flew today’s final flag and, to them, All Shall Fall tonight.
Sons of Northern Darkness, fronted by Doom Occulta, Abbath are the quintessential Norweigan black metal outfit. The Kingdom Cold while Norden on Fire, faces white and Damned in Black, Tyrants crucify songs One By One under a shroud of smoke. Almost impervious within it, lightning strikes illuminate where The Sun No Longer Rises, and effigies that Withstand the Fall of Time spontaneously creep and crash, Beyond the Northern Waves.
The darkest light, an orchestral and theatric Call of the Wintermoon in summer, these paradoxes perfectly encapsulate the dichotomies of Froth & Fury itself. Unique to Adelaide, a city and celebration smaller in stature and more niche in audience appeal than any former or present day comparative, in four short years and against all odds it has grown enormously.
Fast becoming one of the most highly regarded events on the heavy music roster, for punters and performers alike, thriving now away from home in the world’s most remote capital city, rumours abound already – what on earth will festival five bring?
PHOTO GALLERY
POLARIS
BIG NOTER
DIESECT
FRENZAL RHOMB
OCEAN SLEEPER
WHERE’S THE POPE
CROWD SHOTS
