There’s something genuinely special brewing in Norwich right now. If you spend enough time following underground music, you learn to cherish the small rooms where the divide between the stage and the floor simply ceases to exist.
The Holloway has rapidly become one of my absolute favourite spots for live music in the city. There is no elevated platform, no security barrier, and no safety net. The bands stand right on the floorboards directly in front of you, the crowd presses in, and the sonic energy bleeds straight into the room. It’s intimate, sweaty, suffocatingly loud, and utterly vital.
Massive credit goes to Alfie and the whole team at The Holloway for cultivating a space that treats heavy, uncompromising music with the respect and intensity it deserves. On nights like this, with a bill that brought together local blood and underground titans, you are reminded why we drag ourselves out to live gigs week after week.
Kicking things off were Hellga (8), making their live debut at The Holloway. A local Norwich outfit, they describe their sound as a "chimaera of melodic loudness." Mid-set, they showed a refreshingly self-deprecating streak, jokingly referring to themselves as the "Powerpuff Girls" of tonight's heavy billing. Honestly, they were far too hard on themselves.
Kicking things off were Hellga (8), making their live debut at The Holloway. A local Norwich outfit, they describe their sound as a "chimaera of melodic loudness." Mid-set, they showed a refreshingly self-deprecating streak, jokingly referring to themselves as the "Powerpuff Girls" of tonight's heavy billing. Honestly, they were far too hard on themselves.
Their blend of melodic hooks and distorted punch was sharp, energetic, and remarkably tight for an opening set. The crowd took to them immediately, and the room was warmed up properly within minutes. Having never heard or seen them before walking in, I walked away making a mental note to dig into their recorded material as soon as I got home. An impressive, confident opening salvo.
Next up were IAN (9), a band that has become a firm personal favourite. I first crossed paths with their work through Musipedia of Metal when I was tasked with reviewing their record, and after catching them headline The Holloway on a previous visit, my expectations were sky-high. They did not disappoint. IAN create a soundscape that is as devastating as it is emotionally fragile.
Next up were IAN (9), a band that has become a firm personal favourite. I first crossed paths with their work through Musipedia of Metal when I was tasked with reviewing their record, and after catching them headline The Holloway on a previous visit, my expectations were sky-high. They did not disappoint. IAN create a soundscape that is as devastating as it is emotionally fragile.
The pairing of massive, down-tuned guitar distortion with delicate, weeping cello melodies, field recordings, and raw, anguished screams is nothing short of a stroke of genius. The cello isn't just an ornamental gimmick; it’s an essential, beating organ in their songwriting.
They played the main stage at ArcTanGent festival recently, and a review from Veil Of Sound put their dynamic better than I ever could:
"The whole band is built around the cello and the quieter parts feel fully integrated into their music, an essential component of the songs, yet when the riffs hit, oh boy. They understand dynamics as violence. The quiet moments aren’t merely introductions to the heavy parts; they are the tension that makes the heavy parts hurt."
Standing barely two feet away on The Holloway’s floor, that exact sensation hit me like a train. When IAN drop from a quiet, mournful cello phrase into a tectonic post-metal crescendo, the volume doesn't just hit your eardrums, it vibrates your ribcage. It is pure tension and release delivered with theatrical poise, and they proved once again why they are one of the most exciting propositions in British underground heavy music.
Then came the headliners, KULK (9) I first saw Thom Longdin and Jade Ashleigh Squires support Conan over at The Waterfront, and even on that larger stage, the sheer volume and atmospheric weight they wrenched out of a two-piece setup was astonishing. But seeing them cornered on the floor at The Holloway, with the crowd standing barely two metres away, was an entirely different beast.
It is immediately obvious that Jade's drum kit hasn't behaved any better since that Conan show; she attacks the skins and cymbals with a ferocious, targeted hostility, hitting them like they've personally and mortally offended her. Thom stands opposite, coaxing horrifying screeches of feedback and massive, sludge-laden riffs out of his rig while tearing his vocal cords to shreds. There’s a rare, almost telepathic chemistry between them. Their banter between tracks is sparse and quiet, but the second the count-in lands, the performance is raw, deeply personal, and agonizingly heavy. You don't just watch KULK play; you survive them. It feels like an emotional purge laid bare on the concrete.
Naturally, I wasn't leaving without picking up a physical copy of KULK's brand new studio album, Choosing To Die, on Church Road Records, this was the first night of their album release show takeover. Sitting down with the record at home with decent speakers only confirmed what that live set made obvious: KULK are operating on an entirely different level, and this record should see them skyrocket across the UK heavy scene. See the review soon.
"The whole band is built around the cello and the quieter parts feel fully integrated into their music, an essential component of the songs, yet when the riffs hit, oh boy. They understand dynamics as violence. The quiet moments aren’t merely introductions to the heavy parts; they are the tension that makes the heavy parts hurt."
Standing barely two feet away on The Holloway’s floor, that exact sensation hit me like a train. When IAN drop from a quiet, mournful cello phrase into a tectonic post-metal crescendo, the volume doesn't just hit your eardrums, it vibrates your ribcage. It is pure tension and release delivered with theatrical poise, and they proved once again why they are one of the most exciting propositions in British underground heavy music.
Then came the headliners, KULK (9) I first saw Thom Longdin and Jade Ashleigh Squires support Conan over at The Waterfront, and even on that larger stage, the sheer volume and atmospheric weight they wrenched out of a two-piece setup was astonishing. But seeing them cornered on the floor at The Holloway, with the crowd standing barely two metres away, was an entirely different beast.
It is immediately obvious that Jade's drum kit hasn't behaved any better since that Conan show; she attacks the skins and cymbals with a ferocious, targeted hostility, hitting them like they've personally and mortally offended her. Thom stands opposite, coaxing horrifying screeches of feedback and massive, sludge-laden riffs out of his rig while tearing his vocal cords to shreds. There’s a rare, almost telepathic chemistry between them. Their banter between tracks is sparse and quiet, but the second the count-in lands, the performance is raw, deeply personal, and agonizingly heavy. You don't just watch KULK play; you survive them. It feels like an emotional purge laid bare on the concrete.
Naturally, I wasn't leaving without picking up a physical copy of KULK's brand new studio album, Choosing To Die, on Church Road Records, this was the first night of their album release show takeover. Sitting down with the record at home with decent speakers only confirmed what that live set made obvious: KULK are operating on an entirely different level, and this record should see them skyrocket across the UK heavy scene. See the review soon.
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