Soulfly and Nailbomb lay waste to the grounds of London as they strike the ignition with a groove Metal dose of nihilistic and tribal power – a fitting reminder of the mammoth legacy Max Cavalera is nowhere near finished carving out.
Soulfly – Nailbomb – Prodigal
Electric Ballroom, London – 4 September 2026
Words: Lucy Dunnet
Photography: Dominic Beaven
Prodigal
Hailing from Gloucestershire, Prodigal show up to support the Nailbomb + Soulfly extravaganza with a blend of grunge, alternative, nu-Metal, and shoegaze that immediately has the crowd whispering, “Ooh, Deftones.” Deftones, but with less seduction and more grit.
They start torturously heavy, then lean into some chilling melodies and even some Korn-esque “boom da da booms” that sound like frontman Stan Kayley’s vocal cords have been run through a shredder. It is great.
“I don’t wanna see you waste another second of your life. We set the tone, and then they [Nailbomb and Soulfly] come out,” barks Stan at the crowd of nodding Churchill dogs who have not quite found their dancing feet yet.
With their neck-whipping riffs, spasming vocals and the overall heady atmosphere that this four-piece breathe out whilst on stage, Prodigal may not physically warm the crowd up, but they certainly get them excited.
Nailbomb
It is almost too easy to forget that witnessing Nailbomb live is still a totally nutty experience that was never meant to happen. Up there as one of Metal’s greatest one-album, two-show wonders, the Nailbomb duo of Max Cavalera and Fudge Tunnel’s Alex Newport released Point Blank in 1995, played live twice – including their legendary set at Dynamo Open Air Festival – then nada for over 30 years.
During an interview with Metal Hammer discussing the reason behind Nailbomb’s resurrection in 2024, Max said, “The main reason is that I just really love the Point Blank record. It’s one of my top five records of all time. I learned so much from making it, that there’s this other way of making music, which is total freedom.”
It is that total freedom that swarms London’s The Electric Ballroom tonight. Chants of “Cavalera” heave through the venue and, despite morphing into a SpongeBob SquarePants sing-song, serve as a warm welcome for the Cavalera-led crew that take over the stage.
“I never thought I’d be here, playing with my son Igor,” Max says mid-set, the pride and joy evident on his face as he looks to the guitarist on his right.
With the stench of the devil’s lettuce bringing out the green in Max’s wayward curls, tonight’s iteration of Nailbomb whip through the primal Point Blank tracks with reckless abandon as the crushing change of pressure in the room gives way to a suffocating push pit and eager crowdsurfers.
From Wasting Away all the way through to Sick Life, it is filthy chaos incarnate. The no-fucks-given nihilism that is the make-up of this record comes out in an unwieldy purge on stage, with foot-stomping, fists flying, and Pig Destroyer’s Alex Cha windmilling over his sampler like he is the last wind turbine standing in the face of an apocalyptic catastrophe.
It is “bloody awesome”, wheezes the crowd when the band leave the stage to make way for Soulfly.
Soulfly
As the crew cover the stage in camo netting, Max is offered a short break of respite before returning with his trailblazing groove Metal group, Soulfly.
With their splintering thirteenth album, Chama, released at the tail-end of last year, Soulfly have been charging around the world, not so subtly proving to everyone that they are still very much setting the world ablaze.
Soulfly are a band that could just as easily power up a rebellion as they can a whole room of sweaty moshers. Every scream and thumping riff comes straight from the crumbling streets of Belo Horizonte, Max’s birthplace in Brazil and the place where he found Metal in the same way a drowning man finds oxygen.
Every song, be it No Hope = No Fear and Bumba from their self-titled ’98 album, or Chama’s No Pain = No Power, give The Electric Ballroom a serious blast of pummelling, hair-ripping groove power.
The crowd bounces all over the place, one moment a sea of warriors celebrating post-battle, the next a group of a couple of beers in football fans, egged on by every “OOH OOH AI AI” chant Max leads from the front of the stage (of which there are many).
Warbringer’s Chase Bryant looks perfectly at home on the camo netted-up, tribal grounds of Soulfly, weaving in between his bandmates with his feet out. Maybe going barefoot is a secret knack for bass players because the weighty four-string becomes the growling engine of tonight’s turmoil.
“In Capoeira, we clap to the beat,” Max instructs as he brings out a berimbau for a scratching, stripped-back rendition of Umbabarauma. As if veterans of Capoeira displays, the crowd claps, chants and sways to the glistening notes and booming commands coming from this Brazilian legend.
Max Cavalera looks happier than most people even a third his age to be on this stage, and becomes the leader of a tribe we all want to be a part of, and can be, so long as we scream “porrada” and move to the beats of Soulfly’s hypnotic drums until the very last blast fades.
