Opening the evening was Unto Others (8), the Portland-born gothic rockers who arrived clad in a sonic and visual aesthetic straight from the haunted cathedrals of the ’80s. Their sound sits somewhere between The Cure and Type O Negative, with flashes of The Mission and just a hint of Sisters of Mercy-style swagger. A friend who bore witness to this gig described them as “Paradise Lost lite” which I feel does them a disservice on reflection even though he meant it as a compliment; there’s something sharper and more urgent at play here.
Gabriel Franco’s commanding vocals were rich with new wave melancholy, underpinned by Brandon Hill’s crisp bass work and Sebastian Silva’s shimmering, driving guitars. When Will Gods Work Be Done, No Children Laughing Now and Butterfly were set highlights, with just the right mix of drama and restraint. Their stage presence was polished yet vulnerable—coolly captivating without posturing. Unto Others didn’t just warm up the crowd—they haunted it, beautifully.
Next came the legends: Paradise Lost (10), and this was where things truly came alive for me. With a set that leaned heavily into Draconian Times and Obsidian, this was a band that didn’t need to prove anything—only remind us why they remain the undisputed godfathers of gothic doom.
They opened with Enchantment, setting the tone with slow-burning intensity, before moving through Faith Divides Us – Death Unites Us, The Last Time, and No Hope In Sight. Nick Holmes was on fierce form, his dry wit between songs offset by vocals full of gravitas and ruin. Gregor Mackintosh’s guitar tone was nothing short of iconic; raw yet melodic, ice-edged but immersive.
The set climaxed with Just Say Words, an anthemic closer that sent the crowd into a state of joyous gloom. For all their mournful lyrics and slow-burning arrangements, Paradise Lost made this feel like a celebration of endurance, legacy, and emotion. It was a privilege to witness.
Then came the evening’s grand guignol: King Diamond (10), in full theatrical horror mode. What followed was part metal gig, part operatic séance, and entirely unforgettable.
The stage was transformed into a gothic mansion, complete with staircases, pyrotechnics, candlelight, and ghoulish dancers in Victorian attire. Diamond himself: face-painted, falsetto soaring, was a commanding, spectral figure. With a setlist spanning Abigail, Them, Conspiracy, Voodoo, and his newer work, including the excellent Masquerade Of Madness, this was a career-spanning spectacle.
Andy LaRocque’s solos were razor-sharp, the musicianship from the entire band was airtight, and the storytelling was so vivid it felt almost cinematic. Welcome Home was a clear crowd favourite, complete with Grandma’s rocking chair and full horror pantomime.
Theatrics aside, it was the sheer sonic weight and atmosphere that carried the show. Diamond may be a master showman, but this was no gimmick… it was masterful performance art with metal at its core.
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