Parkway Drive and their spectacular touring performances have taken over almost every corner of social media. After an endless string of European dates, they have finally landed at the OVO Arena Wembley with enough pyrotechnics to put Guy Fawkes to shame.
Parkway Drive – Thy Art Is Murder – The Amity Affliction
OVO Arena Wembley – 4 October 2025
Words: Matt Pratt
Photography: Robert Sutton
A far cry from the days of sleeping on the ground next to their tour bus, Parkway Drive have been paving the way for the Australian heavy music scene and showing the world exactly how to throw a Heavy Metal party.
Considering their humble origins, relying on little more than their unrelenting energy and sharpened performing aptitude, the five-piece are clearly making up for lost time, with a show that has thrust them to the heights of Metal popularity and put them in line for some enormous platforms.
Though rock music coming out of Australia is not uncommon, AC/DC, Wolfmother and Jet, to name a few, it has not historically been a breeding ground for world-renowned acts on the heavier side of the music scene.
Fortunately, since the turn of the Millennium, we have been seeing a shift in this trend with bands such as Battlesnake and Amyl And The Sniffers gaining notable acclaim. A huge portion of gratitude must be thrown in Parkway Drive’s direction for this movement, as they spearheaded the charge towards European and American audiences at great risk to their own fragile livelihood. Thankfully, it paid off and has snowballed to the momentous Wembley show before us.
The hulking stage has everyone prepared for a whiplash-worthy, explosive start, but Parkway Dive have something else planned. The screen takes us on a tour of the band’s history to date.
With all eyes expectantly fixed on the stage following the intro video, most have failed to notice the two war flags that have entered the hall, being held aloft above our main attraction.
The band snake their way through the crowd with frontman Winston McCall beaming at his adoring disciples en route to the stage. After kicking off the show with two red hot songs up close and personal on the B-stage, the quintet take to the monolithic main stage to hit us with the full force of their mind-boggling show.
The crowd are off the chain, and it is hard to discern where safety ends and mosh pits begin. “Oh, now we’re cooking,” McCall menacingly chuckles, making note of water already being distributed and the crowd surfing which is continuing long after the song has ended.
This show has surprises around every corner. There are roars for the unexpected reappearance of Andy Marsh of The Amity Affliction and Joel Birch of Thy Art Is Murder, ascending from the stage to feature in a rendition of Boneyards which could easily tear a hole in the ceiling.
That may well be the case, as moments later, it appears Storm Amy has found its way into the room, dramatically soaking McCall, a dark and thunderous rendition of Wishing Well.
Two stages clearly are not enough. While we are all mesmerised by the trio of guitarists chugging away with forks of fire as a backdrop, McCall has sneakily traversed his way into the crowd and perched himself in the eye of the circle pit storm.
There is only one way back to the stage from here. The vocalist unflinchingly launches himself into the hands of his trusted carriers, gesturing at the stage. He may find himself a little less trusting on his next journey, as sailing his way back to the stage, the fans lose their footing and send the vocalist plummeting to the floor.
With a desperate “pick me up”, he is hoisted back above the crowd and successfully completes his journey, even if it did take a bit of a downward detour.
It seems impossible that the spectacle could continue to grow as Bottom Feeder throws everything at the pyrotechnic display, more than suitable for a final song, but there is more. With Ben Gordon, the drummer of the band, the only musician left on stage, the inevitable percussion solo ensues.
The dancers who accompany Gordon gyrate around the stage as though possessed, happening upon a collection of Molotov Cocktails, which they launch to every corner of the room, engulfing the arena in walls of fire.
Is a flaming drum cage enough? Clearly not for Parkway Drive. Just to add a bit more drama, the cage begins rotating in an act strictly reserved for Metal percussionist legends such as Joey Jordison and Tommy Lee.
The full band return to the stage for a fiery performance of Crushed, but seemingly not fiery enough. As the song reaches its climax, the bridge to the B-stage slowly lifts McCall toward the ceiling. A moment of silence and darkness feels like a lifetime before the vocalist screams, “Crushed by the fist of God,” and pillars of fire shoot left, right, up and down, infernos frying every single person and guaranteeing not one person would be leaving the show anything less than medium-rare.
To close the show, the band return to the B-stage where they kicked it off. Normally, the final song of a show acts as a final crescendo. But after the intense moment we had just endured, a more intimate and thankful experience is appreciated by our adrenaline-stricken bodies, not that the song would be by any means forgiving.
The audience still has enough left in them to return thanks in the form of a sing-along, with little hint of what our final song would be, they spontaneously join for a chorus of “WOOAAHH WOAH WOOOOAAHHH!”, the unmistakable sound of Wild Eyes.
While most bands would be content with a couple of strobe lights, Parkway Drive rocked up with the performing force of Disneyland and an unrelenting chain of Metalcore hits, which would be much less welcome at Disneyland, to accompany it.
This evening’s performance has shown that Parkway Drive can be held to the same standard as the megalithic bands taking over the largest platforms and pushes a huge statement about the quality of the Metal scene in Australia.
It is impossible to imagine Parkway Drive decelerating from here. With the furore generated by this landmark tour, stadium shows and Download Festival headline slots are the inevitable next step.
The Amity Affliction
The Amity Affliction are far from a new name in the UK Metal scene. They are more than comfortable on a Download or Bloodstock stage and would pack out a good portion of the larger London venues with a headline show of their own.
As the lights cut and The Amity Affliction logo flashed onto the screen, matching the banner which had already been draped above the stage, cheers filled the room.
Spawned from the same Australian Metal movement as tonight’s headliners, The Amity Affliction are a well-oiled touring machine and they know how to get a crowd moving.
The early show mosh pits would have been awed at by most headline bands, as the energetic early few kicked, span and bounced at the orchestration of a banana and a hot dog, both of whom found themselves crowdsurfing before the end of the set.
Lead vocalist Joel Birch’s cloying vocals screech their way into your temple only to be soothed by the melodic pop-punk-esque vocals of Jonathan Reeves, giving the perfect balance of moshing and sing-along material.
It is no small feat to tempt mosh pits and crowd surfers out of an audience as the first act on, so I think it’s safe to say The Amity Affliction did their job to perfection.
Thy Art Is Murder
The crowd buzzing with anticipation for some Death Metal find themselves in an unfamiliar but joyfully received moment as Thy Art Is Murder blare their walk-out song into the arena, a much-loved tune from Heavy Metal legends and Download Festival Thursday night headliners, the Vengaboys.
The task at hand is probably more difficult for Thy Art Is Murder than any other band on the lineup tonight. Vocalist Tyler Miller jokes about the position they find themselves in, a Death Metal band, sandwiched between two Metalcore bands.
It does not take much to get the rowdy crowd before them on-side with the frontman calling to an echo “Death Metal!”.
The imagery on the screens as the band scowls their aggressive catalogue is of war and dystopia, appropriate as the crowd descends further into disorder.
The circle pit that we saw for our first act has expanded to some amorphous congregation of limbs, gaining the respect of Miller. Not one to be too content, Miller insists that the left and right of the room take note of their neighbours and create their own hubs of consensual ass-kicking.
The crowd surfers multiply exponentially, making it clear that despite their sonic differences, Thy Art Is Murder are more than welcome in this showcase of Aussie talent.
