Dallas, Texas 06/28/2025
This weekend we came out to Dallas, TX to get a sight into the Hell Chose Me 15th Anniversary Tour, and we were not disappointed. The stop was held at South Side Ballroom, which—first off—is a solid venue. And second, that place was PACKED. Not quite “nuts-to-butts,” but I’ve never seen it this full. Between the pit, the people, and the borderline aggressive amount of black clothing, it felt like being in a Hot Topic tornado.
The subcultures were subculturing. I saw a damn Raven from Teen Titans in the pit. There were bimbos, goths, stoners, and probably someone’s accountant just going through it. It was a beautiful mess.
The merch booths? JAM PACKED all night. People were standing in lines like they were at a theme park—except instead of rollercoasters, they were buying $40 shirts that smelled faintly of despair. Worth it.
As we entered the venue, the local openers SkyBaus had just started playing—6:15 PM sharp. These dudes had somewhere to be. They kicked things off with a gritty, catchy sound that immediately made me think, “Why have I never heard of them before?” Their set was the perfect opener—raw, energetic, and just grimy enough to feel like a warm-up punch to the throat.Sadly enough, we didn’t get in the venue on time to actually get any good shots.
It was their bassist’s last show, which was lowkey sad, but what a way to go out. A packed room, a killer set, and a guaranteed backache the next morning. King behavior.
Then Bodybox came on and immediately made it feel like we were at a trashy trailer park party—the kind you definitely regret the next day but still talk about five years later. Their brand of trash metal mixed with meme-core made it feel like hanging out with that one super chill stoner kid behind the corner store after school. Pure chaos with a smile.
It wasn’t just fun, it was weirdly fun. Like “I might get a black eye, but I’m gonna laugh the whole time” fun. And after their set? The guys were at their booth just mingling with everyone. No rockstar attitude. Just sweaty, wholesome energy. We love that.
When Distant started, the crowd turned into a riot with a soundtrack. Fans were ready. The pit? Instantly unhinged. Arms swinging, feet flying—at one point I swear I saw someone doing a cartwheel. A deathcore band from the Netherlands, and I swear it’s wild how the minute they start screaming, you can’t even hear the Dutch accent anymore. What is that? Sorcery?
They were insane in the best way. Vocals? Disgusting. Drums? Tight. Overall presence? Violent, but make it art. It was crispy. The crowd absolutely ate it up—nonstop crowd surfers flying into security’s arms like little gremlin babies being rebirthed in metal. I couldn’t stop laughing. Those poor security guards. How do they train for this? Catch and release? CrossFit?
Next up, Devourment. What legends. A band that’s been around since ‘95 and still sounds like they came here to knock your teeth out. There’ve been a few lineup changes over the years, but the sound? Only got nastier. The fans? Only got weirder. We love growth.
Their live show was full-force chaos. There was a full-on splash zone up front, crowd surfers being launched like human javelins, and one guy in the pit just throwing punches at the air like it owed him money. Peak metal energy.
I couldn’t help but notice a few baby metalheads sprinkled through the crowd. It made me stupidly happy to see them wide-eyed and maybe just a little scared. Yes, sweet child. This is your baptism. I was dancing, headbanging, absolutely thriving—until Adam walked up behind me and scared the living hell out of me. I was so in the zone I nearly launched into the ceiling like a haunted house jump scare.
Then Suffocation took the stage and it was like someone turned the brutality dial to “maximum discomfort.” They opened with Catatonia and it straight-up pierced my soul. A lot of people came specifically for these guys, and they were not let down. This set was a Masterpiece from Hell, no notes.
The pit during their set? Straight-up Mortal Kombat. Elbows were flying like shurikens. I made the wise decision to sit this one out. And by “sit,” I mean literally sit down in the back like a Victorian lady having a fainting spell. It was rowdy, it was rough, and I was not trying to get my spine turned into paste.
They absolutely crushed it and left the crowd steaming and slightly traumatized. In the best way, of course.
And finally, the main event: Carnifex. The big, the beautiful, the slightly sweaty. This was the moment we all came for.
Their set was unreal—tight, haunting, and heavier than the existential dread I carry daily. The harsh vocals and punchy riffs bounced off each other like they were fist-fighting midair. It felt surreal. Ethereal, even. If deathcore could sparkle, this would be it.
By this point, yeah, a few people had tapped out, probably lying face down in the parking lot rethinking their choices. But the crowd that did stay? Fully unhinged. Screaming, moshing, throwing their last few functioning brain cells into the pit. It was glorious.
Carnifex didn’t just perform—they exorcised the room. It was sweaty, violent, cathartic, and somehow… kinda beautiful?
And then—boom. Over. We limped out into the night, ears ringing, knees sore, covered in someone else’s sweat, and feeling weirdly fulfilled.
Huge, chaotic thanks to Carnifex for not only destroying their set, but for curating a lineup that felt like being lovingly punched in the face over and over again. From SkyBaus to Bodybox to Distant, Devourment, and Suffocation—it was a stacked night of non-stop violence and vibes.
If you missed it? Honestly, I’m sorry. This wasn’t just a concert. It was a rite of passage. A community bloodletting. A group therapy session conducted via guttural vocals and snare blasts.
Thank you for the riffs. Thank you for the bruises. And thank you, Carnifex, for bringing all this glorious nonsense together. My body is wrecked, but my soul? Cleansed.
MID SOUTH 
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