Hindley Street Music Hall – Saturday, October 5th, 2025
Written by Brenden “BodyBag”
On a night charged with emotion and nostalgia, Adelaide’s own I Killed The Prom Queen dominated at Hindley Street Music Hall, delivering a performance that was equal parts chaos, catharsis, and celebration. Joined by Threshold, To The Grave, and Emmure, the hometown legends tore through a set that paid tribute to Sean Kennedy, championed mental health awareness, and proved once again why they remain the true kings of Australian metalcore.
The night began with Melbourne heavyweights Threshold, who kicked things off with a wall of sound that hit the room like a freight train. There was no easing in—just full-blown intensity from the first note. Their sharp riffs, relentless vocals, and pounding drums shook the floor and pulled the early crowd straight into the fire. It was raw, powerful, and unapologetic—a statement that the night was going to be anything but ordinary.
Then came To The Grave, cloaked in red light and fury. Frontman Dane Evans, hidden behind his now-iconic pig mask, prowled the stage like a man on a mission. Backed by Connor from Gosika on drums, the Sydney deathcore powerhouse delivered a set equal parts brutal and purposeful. Each song carried the band’s trademark message—furious yet heartfelt, using extreme sound to shine a light on compassion. Their performance was explosive, tight, and emotionally charged, leaving the crowd both wrecked and wired.
When Emmure took the stage, the temperature inside the room shifted. Frankie Palmeri commanded attention with every movement—part preacher, part brawler. The grooves were thick, the breakdowns massive, and the crowd was unhinged. Each song landed like a blow to the chest. The pit became a living, breathing organism of sweat, motion, and release. By the time Emmure exited, Hindley Street Music Hall was a pressure cooker ready to blow.
And then, the lights dropped. A wave of feedback rolled across the room, and a flash of strobes revealed Michael Crafter stepping to the mic. The opening riff of “Your Shirt Would Look Better With a Columbian Neck-Tie” hit, and the floor erupted. It wasn’t just a performance—it was a moment frozen in time. Behind Crafter, Jona Weinhofen and Kevin Cameron locked in perfectly, weaving melody and heaviness like they’d never missed a beat. JJ Peters, the band’s rhythmic powerhouse, drove each song forward with mechanical precision and raw instinct.
The setlist spanned the band’s legacy, from the chaos of “When Goodbye Means Forever” to the anthemic power of “Say Goodbye.” Every chorus became a choir, every breakdown a release. The energy was electric, the connection undeniable. This was the sound of a band that defined a scene—and a crowd that never forgot.
Midway through the set, the tone shifted. Crafter stepped forward, his chest glistening under the lights, the words S.K. FOREVER emblazoned across his black flak vest. The room fell completely silent. He took a breath and spoke—not as the frontman of a legendary band, but as a friend who’d lost someone irreplaceable. He talked about Sean Kennedy, about the struggles that too often go unseen, and about the importance of looking out for each other.
“Look after your mates. Check in on each other. It’s never weak to speak.”
It wasn’t rehearsed or polished—it was real. The honesty in his voice held the room still. People nodded, hugged, wiped their eyes. For a brief moment, heavy music became something more than volume and chaos—it became connection.
And then, just as that stillness settled, JJ Peters counted them in and the band detonated into “€666.” The shift was violent and cathartic, turning grief into movement and memory into noise. The pit erupted once more, this time fueled by something deeper than adrenaline.
As the final song approached, the lights dimmed again and the unmistakable intro to “Say Goodbye” began. Crafter didn’t need to sing—the crowd did it for him. A thousand voices shouted back every lyric, phones raised, tears in eyes, fists in the air. It was the perfect closing chapter to a night that celebrated not just a band, but an era, a friendship, and a city that never stopped believing.
When the final chord faded, Crafter simply raised the mic and said, “Thank you, Adelaide.” No encore. No gimmicks. Just pure, raw gratitude.
From Threshold’s Melbourne fire to To The Grave’s message of fury and conscience, to Emmure’s swaggering violence—it all led to this. And when I Killed The Prom Queen took the stage, they didn’t just perform. They reminded everyone that Adelaide is still the beating heart of Australian heavy music.
This wasn’t a comeback. It was a coronation. For one unforgettable night—Saturday, October 5th, 2025—Hindley Street Music Hall became sacred ground. A place where legends rose, the pit raged, grief met healing, and the heavy scene stood stronger than ever.
Prom Queen didn’t just return — they reclaimed the throne.
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💀 Awaken the dead, one breakdown at a time.
