And why not? We are surrounded by water, we have a glorious array of Death Metal waiting to be chivvied on stage, we are blessed. In fact, I’d say we are blessed to death.
From behind God’s muzzle, we hear the rumblings of a day that will, I’m sure, remain in our memories for a long time to come. Phil (Phil the Room Promotions) and Neil of UK Thrashers have once again triumphed in securing a full day and night of the abysmal, the doom laden and a gathering of the most diabolical wordsmiths you can imagine. Offstage they are the fluffiest, friendliest mischievous monsters you would ever meet. The pleasure and privilege were entirely mine.
Admittedly I had not heard of any of the ragers listed in the directory of death we were about to have thrown at us.
I was in esteemed company with Dr David Gange of Why Metal Matters, Siân Decapitated a festival veteran and photographer Nat Sabbath, all of them show an incredible love and support for the scene. A chat in the green room with Devon’s Kill All The Gentlemen, and I had to start the jam and cream debate, I’m sorry but I have scone issues.
With ten bands it was an immersion chamber of the noxious stench of rotting corpses that simmered and spat over the nine hours we were there.
I’ll try and sum it up as best as I can.
Angels wept, the devil cried
At Death over Digbeth tonight,
As I jumped into the cheap seats with a ticket that was blind.
With long hair, the death stairs that assured their power and punch
Chaplain faced their congregation after Saturday lunch.
A doctrine to manipulate, you won’t hold me down if you tried
While the angels slept, the devils sighed
At Death over Digbeth tonight.
Drēor rise in terror all tied up in Notts
With a menu to devour
Taste the pan fried man and the three man roast, deadlier by the hour.
My eyes were Bloodshot but no -one cared
No one noticed my absence
Indulging in blood and bourbon
You didn’t make any sense.
So, my friends Draugrheim came along
Before you call off the search
From the realm of the undead
They’d never leave me in the lurch.
Old draugr with his deathly melodies
Dropped from the skies, into the seas
That raged and ravaged the city skyline
As angels swept up the devils kept up
The sinners at Death over Digbeth tonight.
The mad eye stares of Mordhau, so intense and so immense
They drop into the undergrowth where us weedlings held our breath.
In need of holy water,
A prayer to our Mother Mary
Bring your sons and daughters
Riddle them of their cancer
In no mans land, doomed and damned
Exorcism is the answer.
With Kill All The Gentlemen in Hell’s kitchen
Chef’s whites, sharp knives, even sharper suits
A fatal attraction if you’re smitten.
A mind ripe enough to pollute.
It’s a sign of the times
When you cross the lines
At Death Over Digbeth Tonight.
Come die with me my darling
Come take a seat so I can bind your feet
Under the table at Death over Digbeth tonight.
The machinist promises to stitch you up
As you fall apart at the seams
All heart, worlds apart
Swimming in our dangerous dreams.
Brace for impact at the extinction event
I don’t think we were ready
Our bodies shuffled around the room
Where the darkness would set us free.
Our Eden nullifies the hell we’re in
Our nourishment becomes our sin.
Where angels were infested, the devils interjected
At Death over Digbeth tonight.
Bananas in Brum so just drink up
Your glass of Foetal Juice
Timed just after Halloween
A night off for Beetlejuice.
Slaying us southern bastards
We had nowhere left to run
These revellers from oop bastard north,
Throw them in the cut just for fun.
Find yourself at a loose end
Or hanging by a thread
Walk with me, where the world dies screaming
Fill your lungs with dread.
A time to live, a time to die
A time to waltz in between
The land of the free, is not what it seems
Outliers as death metal is deemed
Woebegone and woebetide
At Death over Digbeth tonight.
A broken wolf named Bruce was stood outside the gents
I joined him for a natter about life through a broken lens
Death metal at Dead Wax is the softest place to land
For those lost alone and weary and in search of a helping hand.
Volte face, don’t look back
In a room with a view where the stage can’t be denied
Wired, conspired, conscripted and confined
We’re alive after death, so don’t hold your breath
At Death Over Digbeth tonight.
As tidal waves of emotion swept us out onto the streets
Friendships were renewed as the chaos ensued
At Death Over Digbeth tonight.
Azra Pathan
Death Over Digbeth – 1st November 2025, Dead Wax. Birmingham
