REVIEWED: Mayhem + Marduk + Immolation @ Electric Brixton, London

Whether it’s Satyricon selling out national opera houses or Emperor headlining major summer festivals, navigating the less-than-seamless transition from underground obscurity to the decidedly more public domain of globally celebrated fandom is no easy feat. Especially when your subgenre of choice is, by definition, purpose-built to alienate, bewilder and, in many instances, inspire abject horror in the average, psychologically well-adjusted individual. Yet this is something Mayhem have long demonstrably excelled at, having amassed a curious, multifaceted kind of legend that’s as conducive to inspiring Hollywood biopics and shifting band shirts by the shedload as it is forever emblematic of black metal in its most uncompromisingly visceral and quintessential form. And stealing a cursory glance around the expansive yet charmingly characterful confines of Electric Brixton, it’s clear this iconic collective has successfully hit the sweet spot in which both tradition and the sense of something altogether more grandiose here coalesce into this fittingly epic manifestation of Mayhem circa 2026.

Occupying a stylistically dissimilar yet equally iconic space in extreme music, New York death metal legends IMMOLATION open proceedings with no small amount of ghoulishly absorbing ceremony. With the generously expansive stage all but submerged in shadow, instrumental opener ‘Abandoned’ takes ample time to amass a thoroughly malevolent and imposing presence. Manifesting intoxicating heights of apocalyptic grandeur via its myriad layerings of sleekly unfurling, distortion-drenched riffage and intensely caustic lashings of tremolo, there’s but a momentary breath of silence before all proverbial hell breaks loose.

Hurtling headlong into a frantically battering slew of percussive blasts and gnarly, bone-scraping riffs whose lacerating pacing and herculean scale only too perfectly befit its apocalyptic title, ‘An Act of God’ comprises an electrifying blend of ripping ultra-violence and intelligently layered songwriting. And from tombstone-heavy grooves whose lurching, blackly unspooling throes abound with a tangible aura of menace to vertigo-inducing zeniths of airily lacerating riffery, the Americans’ signature pairing of face-melting aggression and compositionally inventive fine detail makes for a ferociously compelling live spectacle. Furnished with a genre-twisting plethora of ghoulishly reverberating bass riffs and guitar licks caustic enough to cleave flesh from bone, freshly unleashed single ‘Adversary’ ignites an instantaneous frenzy among fans.

Interspersing these atmosphere-steeped modern standouts with a choice smattering of what frontman Ross Dolan affectionately calls “old fossils”, 1991 classic ‘Dawn of Possession’ is liberally drenched in all the breathlessly brutalising carnage that so keenly underlines this classic era. And with its turbulent, elegantly snaking lines of ceaselessly bristling riffage, 2022 epic ‘Age of No Light’ rounds off this career-spanning repertoire in staggeringly grandiose style.

If there’s one thing Swedish black metal horde MARDUK will never be accused of, it’s underutilising a fog machine. With their dusky, cadaverously painted forms soon disappearing completely from view behind a densely enveloping plume of Stars in Their Eyes-esque smoke, suffice to say the ill-fated photographers presently clustered in the pit have a fairly sizeable challenge on their hands. Yet the utter warzone of ragged, multidirectional riffing, starkly pounding militaristic blasts and larynx-corroding howls that spew forth from this veritable inferno of aggression speaks volumes for the band’s notoriously brutalising presence.

With its corrosive, eardrum-puncturing shrieks and muddily pulverising implosions of warp speed embodying an aesthetic lo-fi enough to graze the very depths of the abyss itself, this is black metal in its most ruthlessly pared-back and primitive state. And judging by the densely packed throng of aggressively colliding bodies presently raging in the sweat-soaked chaos and clamour of the pit, there’s no mistaking the crowd’s visibly insatiable appetite for the kind of raw and undiluted viscerality they deal in.

Combining ripping extremes of frantically barrelling acceleration with a ghoulishly magnetic plethora of knife-edged, icily visceral symmetries, ‘Frontschwein’ ranks among the most lethally compelling features of tonight’s carnage-packed repertoire. Elsewhere, ‘The Black’s’ brimstone-caked, weightily contorting grooves abound with no small amount of deathly majesty alongside the ceaselessly bludgeoning percussive episodes with which it is liberally laden before steamrolling headlong into 1999 classic ‘Panzer Division Marduk’. Concluding their generously expansive stint with the livid, white-hot ferocity and ghoulishly lurching, sepulchral groove of ‘The Blond Beast’, there’s a dazzling blaze of frenetic strobe lighting and rumbling, ceremonious percussion before the stage is submerged in darkness as a riotous swathe of applause rises from the wildly euphoric assembled masses.

Between Immolation’s wrathful, bone-shatteringly expansive presence and Marduk’s joyously unhinged displays of flesh-rendingly caustic, militaristic carnage, it’s hard to imagine how we might go about ramping up the already synapse-scorching viscerality of tonight’s bill. And yet, via a civilisation-levelling artillery of bludgeoning hyperblasts and frantically whirling flurries of icily lacerating tremolo that writhe and bristle with tangibly venomous intent, genre-defining headliners MAYHEM easily surpass all conceivable expectations. Slathered in corpse paint and luxuriantly bedecked in his iconic 'death priest' attire as a vast telescreen reels off a slew of deathly, monochromatic visuals and nostalgic shots from the band’s storied past, Attila Csihar and co. leave us with the unmistakable impression of being privy to something truly monumental.

Fresh from unleashing seventh studio album ‘Liturgy of Death’, tonight’s heady intermingling of freshly released offerings and long-revered classics gets underway with ripping new single ‘Realm of Endless Misery’. Pairing blistering extremes of bludgeoning warp speed with a morbidly enveloping array of densely churning grooves whose gnarly, blackly contorting motions abound with ritualistic enormity, it’s with grimly inexorable magnetism that we’re ushered headlong into a deathly netherworld of indescribable desolation and carnage.

Among these many rich and frequently historic manifestations of Mayhem’s quintessentially blackened presence, 1997 classic ‘Ancient Skin’ is wondrously drenched in decay-stricken atmospherics. Above a gargantuan, densely entangled expanse of lethally jagged tremolo riffing sizeable enough to swallow every human soul within a 100-mile radius, Attila spews forth a corrosive slew of diaphragm-rupturing howls. Showcasing seamless, genre-twisting agility as he oscillates fluidly back and forth between these intensely caustic vocal dynamics and a litany of ominously booming incantations befitting the most unspeakably blasphemous of infernal rites, it’s precisely this finely orchestrated blend of searing hostility and diabolical theatre that makes him such a relentlessly riveting frontman.



However, it’s not until the ceaselessly reverberating, ink-black symmetries of ‘Freezing Moon’ enfold us in their lifeless, ghoulishly unfurling embrace that we experience the full, apocalyptic enormity of this living legend of a black metal band. With a recording of late frontman Per ‘Dead’ Ohlin’s original vocal section being meticulously layered over the first half of the track, this richly immersive intersection of the band’s ever-advancing present and storied past elicits wave upon wave of manic applause from a crowd spanning literal generations of visibly ecstatic fans.

Then, it’s with spinal cord-snapping immediacy that we’re hurled headlong into the frenzied battery and jagged, lethally whirling textures of ‘Chimera’. Retaining ripping pacing as they barrel and accelerate through the latter portion of tonight’s set, the feral, larynx-corroding screams and sinew-laden swathes of insanely paced riffery that preside over ‘Pure Fucking Armageddon’ see the venue reduced to a teeming mass of wildly euphoric motion before the stage lights fade to black on this bewildering explosive grand finale.