All Photos By Rocky Kessenger/@through_the_metal_lens
On April 18th, 2025, a seismic tremor rippled through Atlanta as three legendary Titans of the metal Monsterverse CARCASS, CANNIBAL CORPSE, and MESHUGGAH awakened, bringing unparalleled destruction to the Coca-Cola Roxy. Like behemoths rising from the depths, their thunderous sound waves shattered the cityscape, leaving fans in awe and reverent fear.
The first Titan to surface was CARCASS, revered as one of the pioneers of Grindcore and Melodic Death Metal. But don't let the legacy fool you, watching CARCASS perform is like seeing a psychedelic jam band that stumbled into a portal and returned from the abyss wielding chainsaws and sonic fury. There is a laid-back confidence in their entrance, but once the first note drops, all bets are off. Their monstrous sonic ability, "Melodic Grindcore Devastation", fused elegance and carnage into a wall of sound. Guitarist Bill Steer summoned melodic chaos with a serene focus, while Daniel Wilding's drumming sounded like artillery fire echoing through a thunderstorm. Guitarist James 'Nip' Blackford added feral flair, and frontman Jeff Walker, ever the ringleader of destruction, wielded his bass and vocals like a necromancer incanting war chants.
Though they spoke little between songs, their facial expressions told the whole story, snarling grins, grimaces of intensity, and the silent swagger of a band that knows it's melting faces. Starting with "Unfit For Human Consumption", the ground fractured beneath fans' feet. Tracks like "Buried Dreams" and "Incarnated Solvent Abuse" summoned sheer chaos, while "Corporal Jigsore Quandary" hit like a Death Metal hurricane. Their finale, "Heartwork", was both a tribute and a battle crymelodic precision turned into a final, glorious assault.
As CARCASS retreated momentarily, the second Titan, CANNIBAL CORPSE, ascended from the fiery abyss with their power of "Relentless Brutality", a merciless force defined by crushing riffs and unyielding rhythmic assault. George "Corpsegrinder" Fisher walked to center stage with the confidence of a god of war, no dimmed lights, no theatrics, just pure annihilation. With his signature windmill headbanging like a helicopter rotor with razor blades he ignited the pit from the moment he grabbed the mic.
The band, composed of legendary axe-wielders Rob Barrett and Erik Rutan, alongside the thunderous rhythm section of Alex Webster on bass and Paul Mazurkiewicz on drums, laid waste to Atlanta track by track. They crushed skulls with "Scourge of Iron", "Evisceration Plague" and "Death Walking Terror" with little pause for breath. But as the crowd howled in anticipation, Corpsegrinder finally spoke, baiting them with a challenge. "You wanna hear a crowd favorite?" he teased. The response was weak. He smirked. "We're not doing that shit unless you speak the fuck up!"
The venue erupted. The chant grew louder "I CUM BLOOD!" until it shook the walls. As the sound hit its peak, Corpsegrinder took his place at the edge of the stage, towering like a crowned beast. He grinned, taunting, "We're all gonna sing this little melody about me shooting blood from my cock!" He then proceeded to let everyone know no one could headbang like him. They were welcome to try, but they would fail miserably. Still, he encouraged them to give it a shot. His headbanging was a violent display of dominance like a mechanical turbine possessed by a demon of groove and gore, custom-built to shame anyone foolish enough to challenge him. And with that, chaos reigned. The carnage peaked with "Stripped, Raped And Strangled", but as the stage lights dimmed, Corpsegrinder turned once more. "Alright, I guess we got one more in us... HAMMER... SMASH... FACE!" And thus, the Titan dropped his final hammer.
The final Titan emerged from a haunting calm, heralded by an ominous, droning intro straight out of a monster movie nightmare like the score to a kaiju rising from the depths. This titan, MESHUGGAH, possessed the enigmatic power of "Rhythmic Precision and Complexity", a methodical, mathematical force of calculated brutality. When it was finally time for MESHUGGAH to take the stage, word came down that photographers would shoot songs 2, 3, and 4, not the first three and honestly, that was a blessing in disguise. For once, I got to experience something I hadn't before: watching MESHUGGAH's arrival from the perfect vantage point.
The stage sat in pure black as the crowd erupted into chants "Meshuggah! Meshuggah!" over and over, the sound rising like a call to an ancient god. A low, ominous hum began to pulse through the speakers an intro that felt like the Titan itself stirring from the deep. For nearly four minutes, tension built, until suddenly, a blinding inferno of red strobes erupted across the venue. It was as if blood rained down from the heavens. The band appeared like shadows against flames, each member taking their place with ghostly authority as the first crushing notes of "Broken Cog" dropped.
From there, MESHUGGAH unleashed a laser-lit nightmare worthy of an EDM festival but steeped in death metal dread. The entire set became a sensory experience that blurred the lines between music and machinery. The lights pulsed with mechanical rhythm, synced so tightly to the music that it felt like MESHUGGAH had hardwired the venue's brain. Guitarist Fredrik Thordendal and Marten Hagstrom stood like sentinels, delivering mind-bending riffs with surgical precision, while the floor beneath our feet seemed to tremble with every downbeat.
Each song was a data stream of chaos and control, equal parts alien and divine. Every light cue was precisely choreographed, cycling from pulsing strobes to sweeping laser beams that scanned each band member like a weapon system targeting the crowd. They didn't need to move or jump. The music moved for them.
"Violent Sleep of Reason", "Rational Gaze" and "Born in Dissonance" followed, each track a seismic detonation in slow motion. The crowd wasn't just watching, it was experiencing a sensory overload as MESHUGGAH's surgical precision collapsed time and space. After "Future Breed Machine", the stage went dark. Then silence.
Two minutes passed. The crowd was restless. Then Tomas Haake reappeared behind the kit. The band slowly filtered back on stage. Jens walked to the mic with his trademark subtle grin and asked, "So what do you guys want to hear?" The response was deafening: "BLEED!"
With a chuckle, Jens replied, "What a surprise."
And with that, the venue imploded. "Bleed" was everything I came to see, one of two songs I couldn't leave without hearing, and it leveled the Roxy. As it bled into "Demiurge", the final strike of MESHUGGAH's set brought the Titan's onslaught in Atlanta to a devastating, unforgettable close for the night.
The lights came up. The band walked the stage, thanking fans, and then... nothing. Silence. Just as it had begun.
The Titans destroyed Atlanta, and not a single metalhead had a problem with that. From the boy and his mom on the rail to the relentless surfers and pit crew maniacs, we got our money's worth.
Check out some more photos from the show!
All Photos By Rocky Kessenger/@through_the_metal_lens
