July 23, 2025 – You know that dream where you’re suddenly at Warped Tour, but instead of teens selling mixtapes and neon tank tops, it’s eight bands playing metalcore that’s matured, diversified, and mutated into something both familiar and fearsome? That was Summer of Loud, pretty much a full-blown genre summit in Camden, NJ, and somehow one of the best curated heavy tours I’ve seen since the days of Roadrunner Road rage comps.
Photos by Keith Baker ( @average_joe_photo ) + Review by @a.j.kinney
For an old head like me someone raised on Ozzfest dust clouds, early Metal Blade samplers, and the chaotic glory of Trustkill era lineups, this tour felt like a strange hybrid. Half revival, half rebellion. But by the time Beartooth took the stage at night’s end, I knew this was no nostalgia act.
Dark Devine
Dark Divine opened like a shot of cold formaldehyde sleek, spooky, and surprisingly tight. Their aesthetic leans horror movie-core, but their execution was all business.
Guttural lows mixed with theatrical flair, they gave early arrivers a reason to look up from their phones and start nodding.
Alpha Wolf
Alpha Wolf, the Aussie wrecking crew, brought the first real convulsions from the pit. Their brand of beatdown is unrelenting metallic hardcore filtered through panic chords and pissed-off Denny’s parking lot energy. If Dark Divine opened the coffin, Alpha Wolf nailed it shut with breakdowns.
The Amity Affliction
Then came The Amity Affliction, pulling the crowd into more melodic, emotional territory. It’s mood music for kids who grew up too fast and based on the synchronized swaying and sea of phone lights during “Soak Me in Bleach,” their connection still runs deep. Even I, cynical as ever, found myself humming along before the next gut punch hit.
The Devil Wears Prada
The Devil Wears Prada was the bridge between eras. These guys used to be scene poster children, but now they play like veterans refined, heavy, and still gloriously weird. “Salt” and “Reasons” proved they’re writing some of their best material now, not back in their “Reptar, King of the Ozone” days. The pit had leveled up by this point shirts were off, sweat was biblical.
Parkway Drive
Parkway Drive should honestly be headlining arenas solo at this point. Their pyro budget alone rivaled some mid-tier EDM acts. Winston McCall stalked the stage like a gladiator, and the band’s setlist was pure fire-and-brimstone pacing.
“Wild Eyes” and “Crushed” triggered the largest circle pit of the day, and honestly, if this were a Metalcore Olympics, Parkway just won gold in “best set-to-crowd destruction ratio.”
Killswitch Engage
Then came Killswitch Engage the legacy act that still feels hungry. Jesse Leach’s vocals were nuclear-powered, and Adam D. spent half the set pogoing around in neon shorts, guitar slung like a battle axe.
Every note of “End of Heartache” and “My Last Serenade” was greeted like gospel. For those of us who lived through the metalcore explosion of the early 2000s, this was church.
I Prevail
I Prevail were up next, and I’ll admit I was skeptical. Their sound leans heavily into post-genre pop-metal, mixing trap beats, arena choruses, and angst by the metric ton. But hell if they didn’t own their slot. “Bow Down” and “Hurricane” felt massive, and their fanbase?
Zealous. Like..‘ready to throw hands with your dad for calling them a Linkin Park knockoff’ zealous. Their energy was undeniable, even if it occasionally veered into Hot Topic musical theater.
But the real kings of the night? Beartooth.
Headlining Summer of Loud was no small task, but Caleb Shomo and crew tore through Camden like a band that’s been waiting for this moment. Their set was surgical chaos one part emotional exorcism, one part brick-to-the-face riff therapy.
“Riptide” and “Devastation” hit like anthems. “The Lines” was a full-blown singalong, and by the time “In Between” closed the set, you could feel something had shifted.
Beartooth isn’t just inheriting the genre they’re reshaping it. Their music balances vulnerability with violent catharsis, a dynamic that speaks as much to the disillusioned millennials as it does to Gen Z rage scrollers. Shomo, drenched in sweat and screaming like he had demons clawing through his ribcage, gave the performance of a lifetime. Not polished. Not perfect. Just real.
Final Thoughts:
Summer of Loud wasn’t a greatest hits tour. It was a referendum, a genre check-up for a scene that’s evolved from basement breakdowns to arena level artistry.
Sure, the 2000s metalcore I cut my teeth on was rawer, maybe even nastier. But tonight proved that this new wave led by bands like Beartooth and Parkway Drive has something the old guard didn’t always have: clarity, scale, and yes, fire cannons.
