26 April 2026 – The Princess Theatre, Brisbane – words and pictures by Clea-marie Thorne
The Princess Theatre is still holding onto the rain when I get there, pavement slick, air clinging before I’ve even crossed the threshold. Inside it’s already thick, not just heat but that low simmer coming off a room that knows exactly what it’s here for.
Bodies are edging forward in slow increments, people clocking exits, sightlines, pit space like they’re planning something slightly reckless. I get talking to a bloke who’s clearly put time into his gig war paint. I reckon he had a pot of black point or 10 eyeliner pens. His markings, very metal I might add, sharp, deliberate, just starting to smudge under the lights but still holding shape. Commitment. Respect. Let’s see if it survives the first pit. Around us, a Mario clone, a walking banana and other punters are hovering on the edge of the floor, watching, waiting, measuring how far they’re willing to get dragged in.
Sienna Skies don’t give anyone long to think about it. Damon Brohier (drums) is out early, sticks in hand, pacing and gesturing like he’s about to kick something off rather than count it in, half the room probably missing it in the dark but the intent’s there. Then Nick Musgrave (bass), Thomas Pirozzi (guitar, vocals), Michael Sankey (guitar) and Josh Wade (vocals) are moving into place and ‘Let It Burn’ is already underway before the room fully catches up.
Sienna Skies – The Princess Theatre – photos by Clea-marie Thorne
Wade is straight into it, leaning over the barrier, dragging voices out of people instead of waiting for them. ‘A Predetermined Outcome’ starts tightening things, the middle of the floor shifting from scattered movement into something more deliberate. Shoulders are knocking now, a couple of early two-steppers testing space, then committing once no one shuts it down. By ‘Cut Me Off’ there’s a proper pocket opening and people are stepping into it instead of dancing around it. Wade barely stands still. A quick snippet of a line from Jim Steinman song hits me. I crack myself up. IYKYK!
Pirozzi takes a moment to speak and it’s rough around the edges, no script, just saying what it means to be there. It lands. Phones drop. Heads come up. People actually listening instead of filming for later. Then ‘Don’t Let Me Go’ pulls everything inward for a second, hands up, faces lit from below, mates leaning into each other like they’ve dragged shared history in with them. Yeah, these ones clearly came for Sienna Skies.
‘Elated’ flips it straight back out, bodies reconnecting with force, movement getting looser and heavier all at once. By the time ‘Mess’ hits, it’s properly awake, sweat starting to show, a few voices already carrying that early shred.
The merch stand that is located outside at the front of the venue tonight (so weird) is doing a roaring trade in the chilly night air. However, it feels like there’s barely a reset before Blessthefall take the stage and the temperature jumps again. Lights drop, low-end rumble creeping in, then Beau Bokan (vocals) is out front and it’s immediate. Eric Lambert (guitar) and Elliott Gruenberg (guitar) are locked in from the first note, Jared Warth (bass, unclean vocals) moving with intent across his side, while Jared Fron (drums) is keeping everything driving forward without giving it space to breathe.
Blessthefall – The Princess Theatre – photos by Clea-marie Thorne
‘You Wear a Crown But You’re No King’ hits and the room reacts like something’s been uncorked. It’s messy, loud, bodies moving before they’ve found rhythm. ‘Cutthroat’ barely gets going before Bokan is up on the barrier, mic out, trusting the front rows to hold him steady. They do, hands everywhere, people yelling straight back into it like it belongs to them now.
‘Hollow Bodies’ starts the first proper run of surfers and it doesn’t slow from there. One after another coming over, including what looks like a dodgy Mario clone at first glance until it resolves into a full banana getting carried like royalty. The pit decides that’s the mascot and runs with it. Warth is off the stage and into the front row, trading lines face to face, no distance, just shared air and noise.
‘2.0’ and ‘Youngbloods’ keep everything rolling, the pit stretching wider then snapping back in, while ‘mallxcore’ and ‘Venom’ push it into that loose, unfiltered space where people are colliding and laughing in the same breath. Lambert and Gruenberg are leaning right into it, playing close, feeding off the front rows instead of sitting back.
Blessthefall – The Princess Theatre – photos by Clea-marie Thorne
When ‘Wake the Dead’ lines up, Bokan splits the room clean down the middle, calling it with a grin. “Everyone to the sides… except the banana.” The reaction hits before the music does. Then it drops and the gap disappears instantly, bodies folding into each other, a moving tangle that somehow keeps its shape.
They call for the room to bounce and it answers, floor shifting under the weight of it, ‘Hey Baby, Here’s That Song You Wanted’ turning into a full-room shout, rough, loud, completely unfiltered. No one’s holding anything back now. There’s nothing left to hold back.
Then everything drops out. Darkness settles in properly this time. A low mechanical rumble pushes through the speakers, like something idling just out of sight.
Memphis May Fire step into it piece by piece. Jake Garland (drums) is locking in first, that pulse steady and deliberate. Kellen McGregor (guitar) and Cory Elder (bass) follow, then Matty Mullins (vocals) walks out and takes a second, scanning the room like he’s reading it before deciding how far to push it.
Memphis May Fall – The Princess Theatre – photos by Clea-marie Thorne
‘Paralyzed’ hits and the front half of the crowd shifts forward in one motion, like the floor’s been pulled out from behind them. ‘Shapeshifter’ follows without easing off, McGregor’s tone cutting clean while Garland keeps everything anchored underneath. CO2 cannons aregoing off blasting plumes of smoke into the atmosphere.
There’s a different weight to this set. Not just loud for the sake of it, but controlled, deliberate. ‘Bleed Me Dry’ and ‘Somebody’ stretch that space, Mullins pulling things back just enough to draw people in before pushing it straight back out. You can see it happening in real time, people switching between screaming and actually feeling it, hands on heads, eyes shut, then straight back into it. Like waves hitting a cliff, pulling back, then coming in harder the next time.
Memphis May Fall – The Princess Theatre – photos by Clea-marie Thorne
‘Misery’ and ‘Left for Dead’ keep that darker thread running through the middle, the pit opening and folding back in waves, security watching but letting it flow because it’s holding its own shape. Nothing feels forced. The air is getting thicker with smoke its like a pea soup as the lights cut through it. At times I can’t see the band on the stage at all. And drummer? What’s that LOL.
‘The Other Side’ and ‘Infection’ keep building, Garland’s kick sitting heavy in the chest, while ‘Overdose’ and ‘The Sinner’ lean into something more internal, the room flashing in fragments, moments catching and disappearing just as quickly.
By ‘Vices’ and ‘Make Believe’ voices are starting to give out but no one’s stepping back. ‘Love Is War’ pulls everyone together, arms up, lines coming back louder than the band at points, not clean but real.
Memphis May Fall – The Princess Theatre – photos by Clea-marie Thorne
‘The Fight Within’ drags out whatever’s left and ‘Blood & Water’ pushes it right to the edge, the pit at its widest, people still finding something to give even when they look spent.
‘Chaotic’ closes it without trying to tidy anything up. It just stops.
Lights come up and the room pauses after the farewells. People are bent over, catching their breath, laughing, checking on strangers like they’ve known them longer than an hour. No real rush to move.
Outside, the air feels off. Too still. Too quiet. That’s how you know. Not every show follows you home. Some just pass through and disappear by the next morning.
This one sticks. Sits in your chest. Replays in flashes when you’re trying to sleep.
Brisbane didn’t just show up for this. It got in the pit with it, got a bit wrecked and liked it enough to go back for another round. Let’s make a date!
