Live Review : Party Cannon + Internal Bleeding + Guttural Slug @ Rebellion, Manchester on April 25th 2026

There are two frankly remarkable things about this evening. The first is the sheer popularity of this vulgar and distinctly unhouse-trained outpost of extreme metal. Rebellion is heaving, and there is a carnival atmosphere of expectant expectation. All three acts are treated with a level of euphoric adoration that is usually only reserved for Korean boy bands. This brings us neatly onto the second remarkable facet on show, and this is the age of tonight's audience. They are young, really really young. Somehow, without us really noticing, slam metal has crawled out of the primordial ooze in which it resides and purloined itself a fevered teen following. Anyone concerned about metal's ability to connect with Generation Alpha just needs to witness the adoration being poured out this evening. This is metal’s next generation and apparently, they like it fast, frantic and ballistically brutal.

Denmark’s Guttural Slug are greeted like they have Justin Bieber on vocals (they haven’t, though their usual squealer is replaced by Desecrated Extinction’s Luke Lockley. He is not a bad-looking chap, and he sports a fine mane of curly hair, but that doesn’t go half the way to explaining the lustful screams that are emitted from the front rows. Between every track, the clearly smitten throng up front scream their lungs out in a manner that is taken straight out of the Beatlemania textbook. Guttural Slug are not a household name, even in the most metal of households, yet this evening they are being treated like demigods. It is a mind-blogging spectacle to behold as they unleash nasty scuzzy riff after nasty scuzzy riff, and the crowd react like we are witnessing the second coming. Their version of slam is energetic and rather exhilarating. It is uncompromisingly vicious and ferociously frenzied. But everything pales into insignificance when you balance it against the reaction they receive, which is on par with headliner status as opposed to first act on a three-band bill. They are clearly doing something right and whatever it is, they should consider bottling it.

The emotional screeching lets up a bit for Internal Bleeding but they are still given a hero’s welcome. The reverence here feels easier to explain, as they are essentially the architects of slam, having been trading in the brutal and vicious end of Death metal since 1991. As Chris Ryan of Party Cannon will atone later on, without Internal Bleeding, there is no slam and no Party Cannon. These are their first shows in this country since the vast majority of the crowd were in primary school, and they hit the stage in a flurry of venomous energy. Sherwood Webber is on replacement vocals, and he enters the fray by way of launching himself immediately off the stage and into the pit. He is a man with no intention of taking prisoners, and his dramatic acrobatics set the tone for the entire show.

This is Chris Pervelis’s band (Sherwood frequently refers to him as the boss), and he is going to do what he wants, which equates to playing his guitar in the middle of the crowd. On four separate occasions, he steps off the performance area and grinds out a cacophony of grizzled riffs slap bang in the middle of the first few rows. Whereas their co-headliner Party Cannon happily embrace the insanity and stupidity, Internal Bleeding are about unflinching, unfiltered brutality. They are aggravated aggression personified, and the tracks aired from the first three albums (all recorded last century) show that they were waving the flag for extremity back when nobody cared about Death Metal. They may well never get the plaudits that they deserve, but if Internal Bleeding continues to put on performances like this, it doesn’t really matter. Just incredible.

As said Party Cannon embrace the chaos big time. For 60 minutes, the stage is a maelstrom of stage divers, stage invaders, members of the other bands, diligent roadies trying to stop equipment being trampled on and cardboard cutout signs. This is alongside the five members of Party Cannon and their attentive skull mask-adorned sixth member hype man. Basically, it is a riotous cacophony of bodies and inflatables from the off. What Party Cannon do magnificently well is walk that very fine line between irreverent silliness and musical relevance. They do not take themselves or the hour spent on stage seriously in any shape or form, but that doesn't mean they are a musically sloppy act. Actually, if you peel back the titillating titles and bodily fluid-obsessed lyrics, you discover one of the finest and most adept death metal bands we currently have in this country. 

Tonight, though, really isn’t about marvelling at the audacity of their riffage or gaping in wonder at the weight of their breakdowns. It's about mindless senseless fun, and the set is just a carnival of offensive and obscene enjoyment. They have recently released their first material with new vocalist Darryl Boyce, and quite happily roll out three nuggets from it. This includes ‘Nauseating and Unpalatable’, which Darryl makes a play of trying to be serious with, only to then admit it is about licking an arsehole. It is that joyful impertinence that makes the whole thing so deliciously decadent. After being deadly serious in their slot, Ryan Giordano and Sherwood Webber of Internal Bleeding embrace the chaos and join in the pandemonium by wielding cardboard hammers or doing push-ups during ‘Human Slime’. Basically, by the end it is not clear who is actually meant to be on stage and who isn’t.

Party Cannon have become a toilet humour national treasure. Their shows are a rite of passage of pubescent lunacy. The stage invaders come thick and fast, and from the rabbit-in-headlights look of many of them, this is the first time they have stage dived. During ‘Soft, White, Gelatinous Body’, the backlog of potential divers threatens to overload the stage, and roadies have to start pushing people back into the mire. But this is a mire of gleeful grins and communal happiness. Party Cannon may musically trade in brutality, but at the end of the day, in a live setting they are a manic life-affirming celebration of non-conformity. They have avoided the musical snobbery and carved their position as the last word in anarchic beauty. Bedlam but also brilliant fun.