Check out our gallery of photos from this psychotic gig!

There’s an air of tangible anticipation throughout Brisbane’s city centre this Friday afternoon as thousands of metal and hard rock fans filter through the post-5pm clamour toward the enticing environs of the Botanical Gardens’ Riverstage. A curious assortment of ticketholders queue to enter the venue: from masked and face-painted devotees, to dedicated young parents accompanying their children to witness what promises to be a memorable first concert experience.

Melbournians Sydonia don’t squander the hard-won opportunity to support these two juggernauts of American heavy music across the country. If for no other reason than pent-up excitement and aggression, the four-piece trigger immediate movement among the packed moshpit up front following a tandem tribal drumming introduction. Vocalist Dana Roskvist attempts to elicit feedback from his guitar during this demonstration, but it’s mixed so low that it’s drowned out by the sound of duelling toms. Midway through their twenty-minute set, two members of Dead Letter Circus are invited onstage to drum, though Roskvist’s assumption that metal fans are well acquainted with the band is a slight faux pas. Sydonia exhibit several breakdown sections that are met with horns-raised approval; the same can’t be said for their simple, Deftones-esque guitar tone and Roskvist’s tendency to alternate between guttural growls and power metal-style high pitches. Still, their sound gets heads nodding and crowd moving: support band mission accomplished.

Hundreds partake in a chant that immediately follows Sydonia’s departure from stage: “Machine Fuckin’ Head!”. Having last visited our shores a year ago as part of the highly successful Black Crusade bill, which they headlined alongside Trivium and Arch Enemy, the four men appear one-by-one onstage to the sampled intro to Clenching The Fists Of Dissent, the opening song from their 2007 masterpiece The Blackening. Both band and crowd erupt once Dave McClain’s cymbals introduce the palm-muted tremolo riff, punctuated by – as so many of Machine Head’s songs are – Robb Flynn and Phil Demmel’s guitar harmonics. Clenching is typical of the band’s refined metal sound, which floundered for several years before 2005’s Through The Ashes Of Empires re-established the band as an American powerhouse. That album is represented solely by a crushing reading of Imperium, the lyrical and musical complexity of which remains staggering. Fellow Blackening cuts Beautiful Mourning, Halo and Dimebag Darrell-defending Aesthetics Of Hate are each intense pieces that solidify the band’s reputation as exceptional songwriters: Flynn, in particular, must be commended for his outstanding ability to conquer intricate rhythm guitar phrases while still filling the natural amphitheatre with his deep growls.

Having toured relentlessly for several years, the band are consistently tight and robust: McClain entertains himself by throwing his sticks in the air between fills, and during set closer Davidian, he throws one to side-of-stage Sydonia singer Roskvist before firing through the final bars. That song, from 1994’s Burn My Eyes, is featured alongside fellow fan-favourite, Old. Adam Duce’s bass groove paves the path for Flynn and Demmel’s pulsating riffs, which in turn laid the foundations for the late-1990s influx of nu-metal bands (to mix my construction metaphors entirely). Though tonight’s set is identical to their Black Crusade set, barring the exclusion of Ashes cut Descend The Shades Of Night, it’s difficult to avoid superlatives when describing the band’s electric and utterly imposing stage presence. They’ve only improved, and threaten to continue dominating the world’s stages for years to come. I can’t help but smile at the flooring performance they deliver to young metal fans-in-training tonight. The band’s very human appreciation of their formidable Australian following provides interesting contrast to tonight’s headliners, whose anti-image has often disparaged their fans.

But it’s ironic that this apathy toward their followers has only intensified their desirability. The nine men behind masks are behind a black curtain until Joey Jordison’s drum warm-up cues it to drop. Slipknot sidle onstage amid purple-lit smoke that’s near-impossible to focus on, while Jordison waves bizarre tree-root/scarecrow-hybrid gloves at the crowd. The eerie screams and lazy bass-driven soundscape of Iowa is sampled as they take their positions and remain immobile for several moments. It’s a wildly successful opening tactic, as the appearance of these nine figures – still, silent, and representative of a marketing concept much larger than their physical make-up – is enough to incite pandemonium throughout the venue. Corey Taylor’s roar and Jim Root’s high-pitched lead riff introduce fan favourite Surfacing, a cut from their 1999 self-titled debut which surmises the band’s misanthropic, rebellious tendencies in three minutes of break-neck, down-tuned heavy rock.

An enormous explosion takes everyone by surprise as Taylor’s first verse begins, and the resultant plume of smoke that engulfs the stage only adds to the sheer mayhem of their first few songs. The jets of flame that periodically shoot into the air behind Jordison’s kit throughout the set light up the canvas backdrop; when coupled with the nine men writhing, headbanging and contorting onstage in their black boiler suits, there’s a lot to absorb. The mobile snare drumming of Shawn Crahan and Chris Fehn during Vol. 3: (The Subliminal Verses) track The Blister Exists follows Jordison’s jagged marching beat. The first of many drumsticks are deposited into the moshpit’s maw, as 1999 rarity Get This ensues. Though far from their most serious song, it’s delivered with the same intensity and conviction that the act retain throughout the set.

And this is a point worth dwelling on: the band members are compelling and engaging actors who’re uniformly dedicated to their craft. Guitarist Mick Thomson and bassist Paul Gray may be little more than headbanging wallflowers whose solid musical contributions feed the band’s trademark low-end tone, but their presence provides contrast to the energy exhibited by Taylor, Crahan and Fehn. The same can be said for nine inch nail-headed electronic sampler Craig Jones – whose input throughout the set, and indeed the band’s career, remains dubious – and turntablist Sid Wilson, whose stage antics include alternating between hobbling around with a cane and climbing Crahan’s scissor-style drum riser. Taylor’s showmanship is admirable: his slight figure, skin-tight boiler suit and enormous voice propel the band through Disasterpiece and Before I Forget, the latter of which highlights the singer’s under-utilised ability to pen melodic vocal hooks.

The band don’t ignore early material that established them in the eyes and ears of disaffected youths across the world, though: indeed, much of the set leans heavily on their first two albums. 2001’s Iowa is represented by The Heretic Anthem and encore opener People = Shit, while tracks from their debut litter the set. The surprising inclusion of seldom-played Prosthetics and set closer Only One solidify tonight’s set as truly pandering to their fans, who thrive on every word, riff and kick-drumbeat. Jordison’s playing is exceptional, especially considering his recently-broken ankle that forced the band to cancel their Reading and Leeds festival appearances. While Taylor is the voice and lead actor, Jordison remains the band’s lifeblood: much of their stage production is orchestrated by the man behind the kit.

Though ostensibly a tour in support of their recently released fourth album, All Hope Is Gone, Slipknot squeeze only two of these new creations into a draining eighty-minute set: second single Dead Memories and the buzz-saw riff of its predecessor Psychosocial are played in succession. Taylor thanks the crowd for securing its #1 debut position on the ARIA charts, a feat which solidified the band’s Australian popularity ahead of this sold out tour. His speedy rap during Spit It Out sets the stage for Subliminal Verses lead single Duality, the lyrics of which are sung back at the band several thousand-fold.

Crahan’s keg-bashing and -violating antics are amusing, but the final fiery explosion and the amazing 360-degree hydraulics attached to Jordison’s kit during final encore (sic) ensure that tonight’s performance automatically assumes legendary status among Brisbane’s heavy rock fans. As Shaun Crahan stands waving a fan-supplied Australian flag, and after conquering the Riverstage and satisfying Brisbane fans beyond any doubt or reasonable expectation, the onus is on Slipknot to replicate their superbly-executed stage production across the country.