The Callous Daoboys
What happens when you feed a motley crew of mathcore millennials memes, Y2K pop culture references and an unfettered internet connection? You get the “Callous Daoboys”. And boy, did they deliver possibly the most chaotic and fun of the weekend.
Returning for second helpings at ATG, the Atlanta mathcore mob bring their chaotic energy under the banner of “Millenial mathcore mosh money music” – a tongue-in-cheek slogan splashed across the video wall. It riffs on their band name (a play of “Dallas Cowboys”) and is backed by a nostalgia-fuelled montage of mid-2000s video game clips, anime, Tony Hawk-style skate videos and WWE wrestling clips. From the get-go, it a was glitchy chaotic metal madness with tinges of melody peppered throughout, ripping through tracks from the new album such as “I Hope I Don’t See You in Heaven” as well as old school fan favourites.
Halfway through the set, lead singer Carson Pace announces to his mathrock clergy: “Here’s a track you can dance to!” – then drops the most outrageous, yet perfectly fitting, backing track of Justin Timberlake’s “SexyBack”, before launching into brutal breakdowns and continuing the metal menagerie of madness. The dancefloor turned into a blitz, a mosh pit bombsite. Carson delivers what must be the most hilarious but memorable mosh call of all the festival’s history: “make an enemy, nerds!”. Finishing up the set of sheer chaos, Hidden Mother’s lead singer joins them on stage, Carson demanding the crowd “Stand for your national anthem!” before delivering the most iconic bizarro cover of the weekend with Enter Shikari’s “Sorry You’re Not a Winner”.
Bipolar Architecture
Sleepytime Gorilla Museum
Some moments in life are worth the long ache of waiting. Sleepytime Gorilla Museum were that moment for me, and as such, language falters at the edges of their sound. To see them live is to experience a strage alchemy where instruments, voices, and bodies all collide into something that feels as feral as it does divine. On stage, they bring everything and the kitchen sink, and then they make it sing. Their set is messy and majestic, devastating but full of joy. At times, it felt like the apparatus of the world has come unhinged, only to be rebuilt before our eyes in sonic form. The shifts are jarring and inevitable, like surges and heartbeats. SGM blur the line between sound and self until you don’t know whether you’re hearing music or remembering a childhood dream. There really is no other band like them and to be in their presence is to feel cracked open in the best possible way, being reminded, fiercely and rapturously, of what it means to be alive. And that, in the end, is worth every moment of waiting. (DR)
Inter Arma
Rolo Tomassi
The lights dimmed, setting the tone. Then came the synths – evocative and spacious, immediately thundering in with riffs creating one of ATG’s most emotionally charged sets of the weekend.
The ambient synths mixed well with the jagged edge and Eva Korman’s visceral screams, and the tent filled with pure raw kinetic energy. As the set progresses, the band move more into their more recent outputs which toe the line between that harsh post-hardcore chaos and shoegaze stillness – finding space for ambient beauty in the madness. At one point during the set, the band paused to celebrate 20 years of Rolo Tomassi. A group in constant evolution, they remain part nightmare, part ambient — and entirely heartfelt.
Clown Core
Arguably the most bonkers and definitely the most controversial set of the weekend came from the absolutely cracked jesters of Clown Core. In what should’ve been a sign of the chaos to come, festival favourite Jamie Lenman jokingly asked if a Clown Core set was about to begin on the main stage.
The set is shrouded in mystery as a giant black wall blocks the view of both the stage and the video wall behind it. Clown horn honks reverberate throughout the crowd as feverish fans anticipate the madness. Wall removed, ambient tones wail and the clown duo take to the stage in complete silence and their circus costumes. Move from the universe and stars on video screen down to a toilet sat outside LA suburbia. They descend into their set with tracks such as “Witch Pussy” and “Earth” – frenetic jazz fusion over complicated drum break beats. As the set moves on, the duo make full use of the video wall behind them with a menagerie of mad if not mental imagery – ranging from live-leaks explosion footage to eerie and unsettling AI porn flashes – with quotes such as “I will not have my pizza inside out. Calzone will not be tolerated”.
The sonic spectrum of Clown Core whiplashes between grindcore and jazz fusion to almost extreme tongue-firmly-in-cheek breaks of elevator muzak and late-night TV infomercial sound scores. Self-awareness is important and peppered through the set is Youtube video reaction channels to their music – Clown Core know exactly what they are doing and double-down on their esoteric violent but outlandish tunes, ending their set with simple statements, “Please leave now. Thank you for your money”. Ultimately, Clown Core left their mark on the festival as the fever dream circus act of the year and nothing can top it especially at ATC, which celebrates the weird and wonderful.
Kayo Dot
While some were losing their shit over at Clown Core, others of us were left raw in the other tent, witnessing Kayo Dot. KD have been stitched into my life since my teens, and earlier this year I was lucky enough to catch Toby Driver live at Roadburn. To now see the full entity, here at ATG, felt momentous.
Some music gives. It feeds you easily, like a dinner laid out with no questions asked. It’s clear why flocks gathered to the other tent. But Kayo Dot’s music demands. It asks for surrender, for patience, for resilience even, sometimes. Their sound lingers in the darker corners where prog brushes up against the avant-garde: haunting, intricate, somewhat confounding, always alive. It’s difficult to speak plainly about music that has been a companion for so long. I got lost in this performance, got undone and pieced together again, over and over. Watching the crowd, I could see I wasn’t the only one. That cycle of renewal and disorientation is one of their best gifts. By the end, I felt like I was somewhere between reality and something else entirely. Unexplainable, unrelenting, unforgettable. Either way – thank you. (DR)
Tesseract
Up next was the final headliner, the culmination of the weekend’s musical journey: Tesseract. As an electronic voice echoed through the massive tent — “Everyone, show your hands” — what followed felt almost ritualistic. A heavy, immersive finale, it was an aural feast of pure, precision-engineered djent.
The band opened with a wall of downtuned diegetic djent metal guitars bellowing through the tent. This was complimented by the soaring highs of both the lead singer and female backing vocalist – a powerful blend of clean high notes and heavy animalistic growls. Guitarwork filled with complex and polyrhythmic chugs, executed with machine-like precision, locking together like a well-oiled machine of progress metal jigsaw piece cohesion. The LED vertical volumes behind the band added a futuristic Blade Runner-esque vibe to the scene. When the set ended, Tesseract chants could be heard throughout the tent, kicking off the balls-to-the-wall intro of the encore.
The band, once finished, took a moment to thank the festival — “Thank you so much. ArcTanGent family, we love you” — before inviting the crowd in for the traditional end-of-set photo. They also promised to return next year with new music. Overall, Tesseract performed with surgical precision, all while maintaining the essential emotional depth that defines their sound.
