Live Review : Deftones + Denzil Curry + Drug Church @ Co-op Live, Manchester on February 14th 2026

There is a point during Drug Church's opening set when the monumental shift in Deftones popularity and support base suddenly makes sense. Patrick Kindlon decides to undertake a census of the tribes within the enormous aircraft hangar that is the Co-op live. His call out for old-skool metalheads elicits some sporadic cheers. When he asks for nu-metallers, there is more recognition but still nothing of note, however, when he enquires where his goth baddies are, the place literally explodes. You see, Deftones, who were once the sole preserve of the more cerebral brand of metal fan, have in the last five years found themselves a whole new, significantly younger audience, which has culminated in the long overdue graduation to massive status. For all of their longevity, this is not a nostalgia show; this is about the plentiful hordes of Goth baddies celebrating their collective love for their favourite band.

Drug Church are also happily bringing old styles to the next generation. Their brand of melodic punk feels like a direct amalgamation of Fugazi and Husker Du. It is forceful and aggressive but consists of a harmonious pop-like sensibility. It is far too spikey to be pop punk, but is accessible enough to engage the thousands up front that want to get warmed up for the main event. Used to haunting clubs and subterranean basements, Drug Church are enjoying their brief relocation to enormadromes. Patrick tries to amass 150 crowd surfers, and requests push, pull and circle pits. He works the audience well, emphatically knowing that it is not his, he employs enough charm to keep them interested. They provide a rather enjoyable and engaging start to the evening and potentially win over a bevy of new followers.

The inclusion on the undercard of Hip Hop superstar in-waiting Denzil Curry makes sense in this brave new world of blurred musical boundaries. The truth of the matter is that the demographics around what those who listen to Deftones have changed so much that the inclusion of a rapper as the main support on this tour doesn’t feel like a left-field choice. Denzil himself helps the collusion by being a brutal, energetic proposition. He careers around the joint with vigour and vitality, working the crowd magnificently. You can visibly see the dividing walls between genres fall, as Denzil’s version of Hip Hop is all about disrupting the norm, character traits shared with both punk and metal. By the end of his set, all questions of the validity of his inclusion have been answered. He is a riotous explosion of anarchistic disharmony that fits well with the evening's aesthetic.

The accession has been a long coming, but tonight is the moment that Deftones stake their claim as one of the biggest bands on the planet. They are imperialistically astonishing, using the vast layout of an arena stage brilliantly. They are self-assured enough to own the space but also retain enough humility to emotionally engage with each and every one of the twenty-two thousand people lying out in front of them. It is an utterly staggering performance with a set that is precision-engineered to uphold interest all the way through. Usually when a veteran act plays new material, it is the signal for bar and toilet and trips, but not tonight. The tracks from last year’s utterly phenomenal “Private Music” take pride of place and are treated with as much euphoric rapture as the older songs. It is obvious that for many of those present, this is, in fact, where they come in, and ‘Souvenir’ and ‘Infinite Source’ are as important to them as, say, ‘Swerve City’ or the exquisite ‘Sex Tape’.

However, Deftones are astute enough to realise that not everybody here tonight will be completely genned up on their modern masterpiece, so the new songs are dispensed across the set in couplets, interspersed with old tracks. With ten albums across three decades, there will always be casualties, but the absence of anything from their 2003 self-titled is probably the only misstep of the evening. Aside from 2016’s questionable “Gore” everything else gets a look in. In fact, the two songs from the illustrious and unsurmountable “White Pony” are the highlights of the evening. Both ‘Digital Bath’ and ‘Change (In the House of Flies)’ see Chino take his guitar up to the highest point of the risers and stand illuminated in the high-resolution visuals. They are both fabulously evocative moments in time. Both tracks remain absolute high watermarks in emotive, heart-wrenching, heavy music, and they have lost none of their potency and poetic grandeur.

But we do need to be careful when talking about highlights, as the evening as a whole is astonishing. The staging is bold and brazen. A video wall the size of a small country dominates the whole of the back wall and the films and visuals that accompany each track add texture and depth to the music. The sound is pristine, and you can hear every fuzzy riff, every downturned squeal and every lush synth flourish. It is a masterful and measured performance that provides no space for breath or a toilet break. We get sporadic interaction from Chino, who asks the lights to be turned up so he can see us all and later on, ushers in a snippet of the Mancunian national anthem ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’. But in the main he relies on the strangulated thank you at the end of every track to show his appreciation.

The atmosphere is fevered from start to finish. It is a collective outpouring of devotion and adoration. Whether they have loved the band for thirty years or six months, those present are unified in a religious like fervour spurned on by the majestic nature of the performance. The more the band give, the more ecstatic the reception and therefore the more the band gives. It reaches a jubilant nadir as they conclude with ‘My Own Summer (shove it)’ and ‘7 Words’. For the former, Chino sprints across every inch of the stage, encouraging the  whole place to scream “Shove it, shove it, shove it” and for the latter, he elicits final choruses of “suck, suck, suck”. It is a gargantuan ending to a frankly unprecedented evening. Deftones have never changed, they have always been this good,  but somewhere along the road the public psyche has shifted back towards them, and 31 years after the first album, they are now in a position to legitimately headline Download, Reading and even Glastonbury. Good things do indeed come to those who wait.