Live Review : Conan + Chained To The Bottom Of The Ocean @ Rebellion, Manchester on November 26th 2025

If you strip metal back to its molten core, you will find Conan. They synthesise the base element of ungodly weight that makes metal, metal and celebrate the simplistic beauty of that gnarly heaviness. There is something ritualistic and primal about their approach; by removing all the elements that have aided metal's evolution, they reboot everything to a point where it is all about the heaviness. This evening, they are hypnotically astonishing, a contorted 65-minute meditation of pure organic noise. A sound bath for those of us with a fractured soul.

Openers Chained To The Bottom Of The Ocean have borrowed from Thou both their name (slightly adapted from one of the signature tunes) and their obedience to creating impenetrable art in the form of brutal, brittle noise. They have already gained a notoriety for the sheer unrelenting extremity of their live performances. This support stint with Conan is, however, the initial opportunity we have had in this country to witness it for ourselves. The first thing to say is this is not a case of underrepresentation or over hype, Chained To The Bottom Of The Ocean are a breathtakingly belligerent live experience. They are uncompromisingly harsh and impressively impenetrable. They punish both their instruments and our ears with a discombobulating vicious sound. It is profoundly non-linear and in places nonsensical but is also astonishingly brilliant. 

They channel pure hatred and soul-destroying despair and give it corporeal form within a distorted cathedral of noise. They leave everything on the stage, pouring out their inner insecurities to create an ever-fluctuating maelstrom of sonic torture. For those watching an equally exhilarating and off-putting experience, it punishes your senses whilst simultaneously pushing your boundaries of tolerance. As a piece of nihilistic art is utterly incredible, and the reaction they receive as they finally shudder to a halt is nothing short of rapturous. An unholy cacophony, they prove that every bit of hyperbole that has been uttered about the magnitude of the live incarnation is in fact true.  

Conan follows the astonishing might of Chained to the Bottom of the Ocean by leaning into what they do best: stripped-down, fundamental heaviness. They are meticulously slow and glacially lethargic in their approach; the music oozes as opposed to gushes off the stage. It feels like an immaculate antidote to the precision and technicality that has entrenched itself within metal. There is nothing technical or precise to be found here. It is raw, Neanderthalic, down tuned and distorted. It is fuzzy and ferocious. Most of all it is monumentally heavy. 

Mainstay Jon Davis unleashes painfully slow monolithic riffs. Each one is twisted and deformed, but also vital and vitriolic in their stripped-down nature. He stays in his statuesque position, stage right for the whole performance. There is no movement or banter beyond a few thank yous, screamed song names and a departing big up for his beloved Everton. But if we are honest, anything as conventional as dialogue or physical exertion would break the spell. Conan are wonderfully hypnotic, creating a mesmerising and magnetic cauldron of sound that is fascinatingly absorbing. The breaks between songs feel nominal because everything starts to bleed in together to create a repetitive spellbinding hour of intense primordial noise. 

One of the noticeable thing about the Conan experience that the bass is as important, if not more so than the guitar. Dave Ryley may be a particular newcomer to this parish, but he has a significant pedigree, being a founder member of the late lamented Fudge Tunnel. He wears his bass low, almost as low as the frequencies that it emits. It is a granite-like weight of his output that drives things forward. During ‘Thunderhoof’ it becomes tribalisticly rhythmic, intense in its minimalistic rapture. Then during ‘Satsumo’ he faces up to the amp, playing into it and then hugging it in order to consume the vibrations. That monumental immovable heaviness that is at the heart of Conan’s appeal, it is all his doing.

The audience reaction comes in two very distinct manners. There is a group up front that forge a gigantic circle pit and throw themselves into each other in time with each of the monstrous colossal riffs. Outside of that inner circle of wanton violence, the rest of those present let the unrelenting noise wash over them as if in a trance like state. There is the occasional nodding of heads and feet but in the main it is a state of solid contemplation as they both hear and feel sonic oscillation slowly creeping from the stage. There is nothing as becoming or as puerile as an encore. We just reach the end of the allotted time and they thank us once more and leave. Conan are an extraordinarily base level act and this evening they are as ever, simply astonishing. This is metal de-evolved back to its big bang. A unyielding barrage of noise that is simultaneously nurturing and challenging. Unforgettable and unremitting this is the true heart of metal. 

Check the “In The Flesh” page for more photos!
Conan + Chained To The Bottom Of The Ocean