Fit For a King at the Electric Ballroom, London 2026

The air in Camden is always a little different on show nights, but on March 24 at the Electric Ballroom, it was electric more than just in name. I arrived just as the early spring light drained out, and the contrast hit me immediately: outside felt tentative, still shaking off winter; inside felt dense, humid, impatient. As someone who lives and breathes this scene, seeing Fit For a King headline this iconic venue was a bucket-list moment.

But to truly appreciate the journey of the night, you have to look at how perfectly the support acts were curated. With 156/Silence, Acres and Memphis May Fire, it was a four-hour descent into different shades of heavy, and each band brought a distinct flavour that built the tension until the room was ready to explode.

156/Silence

156/Silence opened with a kind of deliberate hostility. Their set felt like being dropped into cold water without warning, with a sound that leaned toward abrasion rather than polish: jagged guitar tones, vocals that scrape, rhythms that refuse to settle. Frontman Jack Murray doesn’t “perform” in the traditional sense; he prowls, leans into the crowd, delivers vocals like he’s trying to force a reaction. I found myself resisting them at first, then gradually locking into their logic.

They aren’t interested in comfort; they build pressure without offering relief, and they sustain it with a kind of stubborn focus. Songs such as ‘High Dive in a Low Well’ and ‘Better Written Villain’ tightened that weight, avoiding clear grooves or any satisfying release. By the end, they closed as abruptly as they began. I didn’t find it easy to enjoy, but I couldn’t ignore it; they built discomfort with intent, bringing that gritty, Pittsburgh intensity that made the early birds in the pit wake up very, very quickly.

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Acres

Acres approached the stage with a completely different kind of presence. After the abrasion of the opener, the British band recalibrated the room, setting the tone immediately with the song ‘Not So Different’. The guitars came in wide and patient, less about impact and more about atmosphere.

The vocalist Ben Lumber stood almost still at centre stage, letting his voice carry the weight rather than his body. On ‘My Everything’, his voice sits just on the edge of breaking, but never quite tips over. That restraint creates its own kind of tension: it’s quieter, but it lingers. I noticed the crowd responding differently here: less jumping, more swaying, more listening. For a moment, the pit dissolved into something almost reflective.

That said, I kept waiting for them to push further. Tracks like ‘Built to Bleed’ hinted at something sharper (there’s a flicker of aggression there), but they often pulled back just as things threatened to get messy. Even the drummer, Ash Scott, keeps everything measured, almost too measured at times. I admired their control, but part of me wanted them to lose it, just briefly.

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Memphis May Fire

Then came Memphis May Fire, stepping in with confidence that bordered on certainty. From the opening notes of ‘The Sinner’, I realised that this was the set where the crowd fully commits. Their sound is built for this environment; clear, direct, and immediate. The riffs lock in, the choruses open up, the breakdowns hit with precision. And after that, songs like ‘Vices’ and ‘Paralyzed’ kept that momentum going.

They played a set that masterfully balanced their legacy with their heavy-hitting newer era, but the tracks from Remade in Misery, like ‘Misery’ and ‘Somebody’, absolutely slapped in a live setting. Matty Mullins knows exactly how to hold a crowd’s attention and remains the quintessential frontman: polished, incredibly charismatic, and possessing a vocal range that hasn’t aged a day. But what struck me most was his vocal stamina. He’s jumping, spinning, and interacting with the front row, yet his delivery is studio-perfect.

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When they launched into ‘Shapeshifter’, it felt like a switch flipped. Suddenly, the room wasn’t warming up anymore, but it was fully engaged. Kellen McGregor’s guitar work was a highlight for me. Those signature MMF riffs are so bouncy and rhythmic that you can’t help but headbang. When they played ‘Chaotic’, they brought the energy even further, reintroducing a little aggression; but then they’d pivot into something like ‘Make Believe’, showing off their growth into a more anthemic, arena-ready sound.

They closed with ‘Blood & Water’, which felt inevitable in the best way. It pulled everything together, melody, heaviness, control, and the crowd responded instantly. It’s the kind of closer that doesn’t challenge expectations but fulfils them completely. I enjoyed their set, I really did. They deliver exactly what they promise, and they set the bar so high I actually wondered if Fit For A King could top it (spoiler: they absolutely did).

Fit For a King

When the lights finally dimmed for the Texas giants Fit For a King, the roar from the Ballroom was deafening. The stage production was sleek, but the sheer presence of the four men walking onto the platform commanded the room. Launching straight into ‘Begin the Sacrifice’ from the new record Lonely God, it was clear we were in for an experience of the heavy variety. What I noticed immediately was how intentional they are with dynamics. They layered the tension carefully, letting the melody stretch before pulling it down into something weightier. When the breakdown landed, it didn’t feel like a gimmick; it felt like a consequence.

Ryan Kirby exudes the kind of commanding presence that can dominate any venue, large or small. His lows are cavernous and gut-shaking, but it’s his control during the soaring melodic choruses that truly gets me. Guitarists Bobby Lynge and Daniel Gailey, alongside bassist Ryan “Tuck” O’Leary, create a dynamic that feels central to the band’s identity. The riffs were crisp, devastating, and perfectly mixed, while Tuck’s backing vocals added an extra layer of urgency, with a stage presence that is legendary for a reason. He spent half the night mid-air, yet his bass lines remained locked-in.

Drummer Trey Celaya deserves his own mention. Watching him live, I felt how much of the band’s pacing runs through him. On ‘Breaking the Mirror’, his shifts between restraint and impact made the transitions feel intentional rather than automatic. He didn’t just play the songs; he drove them through the floorboards. The set leaned heavily into Lonely God, which was a treat because those songs are built for the stage. ‘Technium’ and ‘No Tomorrow’ are already certified anthems, with the crowd screaming back every single word.

However, the band knows their roots. When they reached back for ‘Engraved’, the old-school fans (myself included) absolutely lost it, and during ‘Backbreaker’, the breakdown felt like a shift in tectonic plates. One of the most affecting moments came with ‘When Everything Means Nothing’, one of the last two songs they played for the encore. Kirby stepped back slightly, letting the melody carry more weight, and the crowd met him there. I caught myself singing along again, more openly this time, and I wasn’t alone.

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They closed with ‘Witness The End’, and it was the culmination of everything they’d built. The final breakdown hit hard and spread physically through the room. I felt it in the way the floor moved, in the way people braced themselves and then gave in to it. By the final notes, the crowd was exhausted but euphoric, drenched in sweat and adrenaline, chanting every lyric back at the band.

When I finally stepped back out into Camden, the air felt sharper than it had earlier, like the night had reset itself while we were inside. I kept thinking about how each band approached heaviness, not just as sound, but as intention. 156/Silence used it to unsettle. Acres used it to stretch emotion. Memphis May Fire used it to connect. Fit For a King, though, they used it to structure feeling, to guide it, to make it land exactly where it needs to.

The Electric Ballroom might have been the venue, but last night, it felt like the epicentre of the metalcore universe.