Before diving headfirst into the second quarter‑final, I’ve got to rewind for a moment and give a massive congratulations to Declaration of Rebellion and Sabertooth. Declaration stormed off with the Judges’ Vote, while Sabertooth claimed the crowd vote. Their quarter went down on the 9th of May at the Jericho Tavern, and from everything I heard, the room was absolutely heaving. That kind of turnout sets the bar sky‑high, and I’m hoping we keep seeing that same level of feral, full‑throttle support as the competition barrels forward. Nights like that remind you exactly why local metal scenes are so special.
And honestly, I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again: I do not envy the judges. Not even a little. With bands swinging this hard, delivering sets that feel like they’re trying to tear the roof off the venue, choosing a winner must feel like choosing which limb you’re willing to lose. Every quarter so far has been stacked, unpredictable, and loud enough to rattle your teeth – and if the first round was anything to go by, the second quarter‑final was only going to crank the chaos even higher.
Now, moving on to tonights quarter finals, and we managed to get three members of CHAOS out in full swing, photographer Zeus, Ruby and yours truly. I even managed to make myself helpful before the show began, I managed to blow up all of one whole inflatable for The Blade Itself! Tonights line up was gearing up for another cut throat performance.
The Blade Itself:
First on the chopping block were The Blade Itself, limping in one member down since we last saw them – because apparently who needs a full lineup when you can weaponise pure chaos instead. Even before a single note was played, the band had already declared war: inflatables were launched into the crowd, swords and shields shooting off in every direction. I managed to snag myself a shield, which immediately became essential protective equipment as the band detonated circle pits around us. They even had their own pit manager – a hype‑goblin dragging unsuspecting bystanders into the carnage like it was some kind of community service.
The second the set kicked off, the lead singer hurled himself into the pit, mic in hand, moshing like he did not have his show to finish. That was the moment the second quarter officially began. The band dropped into their hardcore breakdowns with zero hesitation, the frontman conducting the room like a deranged maestro, arms raised, demanding absolute obedience. Bodies spun, inflatable swords flew, and the room ascended into a kind of cartoonish medieval battle reenactment gone wrong.
Much like a Metalhead Arthur, whenever a sword hit the floor the singer would leap from the stage, retrieve it with holy purpose, and immediately lob it back into the fray. I love being dramatic. Singers in the pit is standard behaviour at shows like this – they’re only armed with a microphone, after all. But when the bass player decided to join the mix, that’s when my inner concert mum kicked in. Watching him sprint around the circle pit, swinging a bass the same height as me, somehow not knocking anyone unconscious, was nothing short of miraculous. He came close. Too close. More times than I’d like to admit.
It wouldn’t be a hardcore show without the usual two‑steppers and helicopter‑limbed knobheads down the front, windmilling like there were not innocent concert goers to their left and right (I am joking). The singer kept abandoning the stage – and by “jumped,” I mean full‑send launches, both feet slamming into the floor like he was testing the venue’s structural integrity.
The band stayed powerful, loud, and completely unforgiving from the first note to the last. Momentum never dipped. At one point lead singer cartwheeled straight into the pit – an actual cartwheel – nearly clarting a poor woman who definitely didn’t sign up for gymnastics. At least he apologised, which somehow made it even funnier.
And as the final song kicked in, the singer hurled himself off the stage one last time, knees be damned, ready to lead his inflatable‑armed army into one last glorious battle.
Away With The Seas:
Up next were Reading’s own Away With The Seas, and after the absolute carnage The Blade Itself left behind, the crowd was already buzzing. But the second these lads hit the stage, they didn’t just ride that energy, they seized it, twisted it, and made it entirely theirs. They bounded on with wild enthusiasm, the singer stomping from one end of the stage to the other like he was trying to claim the territory by force. The room shifted instantly; you could feel everyone bracing for another round of beautifully unbridled chaos.
Mid‑set, the singer announced they were going to “slow it down,” which was an absolute blatant lie, maybe the instruments softened for a heartbeat, but the momentum never dipped. Not once. Instead, the frontman doubled down on the band‑and‑fan connection, leaping off the stage and getting right up in the faces of everyone in the front row. The only moment the energy even pretended to falter was when he dropped to his knees for dramatic effect, the kind of theatrical pause that makes the next explosion hit even harder. And honestly, one of my favourite moments was when he got inches from our cameraman Zahir’s lens, practically gifting him the kind of live‑shot gold photographers dream about.
I also have to give them credit for their pit management skills. Controlling a mosh pit from the stage is no small feat. Yet Away With The Seas handled it with sharp hand signals and barked orders. When the lights suddenly flipped to red, the entire room transformed. It felt like we’d been dropped into stylish carnage, every breakdown hitting harder than the last. Their set flew by in what felt like five minutes, each song bleeding into the next with such force that by the time they announced their final track, I was genuinely annoyed it was ending.
But then the guitarist stepped forward, demanding the crowd to split. The room obeyed instantly, parting like a chaotic sea ready to crash. And when those two sides slammed together, it sent Away With The Seas out with a bang, a crash, and the kind of finale that leaves you desperate to run it back again the moment the lights come up.
Caravan of Whores:
I’d been itching to finally see Caravan of Whores, having missed their heat, and the anticipation alone had me buzzing. I’d heard nothing but glowing praise, so when the three‑piece walked onto the stage, I was already leaning forward. And right from the first note, they hit us with these impeccable, face‑melting guitar solos that set the tone instantly. Every song drifted into these gorgeous fade‑outs, the kind that make you feel like you’re being lowered into another dimension. Between tracks, the members exchanged easy banter, the kind of on‑stage comfort that only comes from musicians who know exactly who they are and what they’re doing.
Caravan of Whores were a complete shift from the first two bands, and honestly, it was refreshing. They traded frantic riffs for slower, doom‑laden heaviness, letting every note hang in the air like smoke. I also clocked the matching guitar and bass combo – both in red and I am like a magpie. Ooh shiny. And yes, I know I already mentioned the guitar solos, but I was genuinely mesmerised. My phone camera was too. Unbiased, I’d say it was some of the best musicianship of the entire competition.
But it wasn’t just the guitarist showing off. The drummer delivered a solo so powerful it made my heart skip a beat just to keep up with the pattern, and the bassist stepped forward with a solo of his own that rumbled through the room. Every member had a moment to shine, and every moment landed. Maybe, just maybe, they were my favourite of the night.
On top of all that, they teased new music and told us to keep an eye on their socials, which immediately had me excited. Then the drummer casually dropped the bombshell that all the songs were new to him, earning a laugh from the crowd. Caravan of Whores closed their set with another flawless fade‑out, leaving the stage not just with applause, but with at least one brand new fan – me.
Nvmeral:
I owe Nvmeral a massive apology because (and brace yourself) the last train from Oxford to Reading on a weekend is 11PM, while weekdays get a 00:10. Make it make sense. Truly. It’s peak UK‑rail nonsense and I’m sick of it. I had to bail at 10:40 because I’m autistic and physically incapable of not being ten minutes early for everything, and even then I only made the train with four minutes to spare. Four. Minutes. Disgraceful behaviour from the transport gods. I missed the end of Nvmeral’s set and the announcement because the trains decided weekends don’t deserve joy. Rant over. For now.
I’m sure Nvmeral delivered yet another blistering performance – even from the fragments I managed to catch, it was obvious they were operating at their usual level of intensity. The moment they hit the stage, they snapped straight into that signature energy‑first chaos I’ve come to expect, barely acknowledging the concept of “staying on the stage” at all. They’ve always had this wild, feral divorce from the platform they’re supposed to be performing on, and tonight was no exception. Even with only glimpses of their set, it was clear they had the most raw energy of the night.
Results:
Because of the train situation, I had to get the results second‑hand, which meant spending the journey home glued to my phone, pestering my friends for updates the moment they dropped. Announcer Jay (love you!) was the first to reply, letting me know that The Blade Itself had taken the crowd vote while Away With The Seas secured the judges’ vote. A perfect outcome for two bands who gave everything on that stage. Huge congratulations to both, and onwards to the semis, where things are only going to get louder, wilder, and even more exciting for anyone following this competition’s chaos.
Some shows are live, some pre-recorded. All times are GMT
