Cerys Andrews
Opening the night were Omoia, who, despite being Leeds-based, made it very clear this was a hometown crowd. Playing their first ever Cardiff show, they were met with roaring energy before they’d even struck a note—helped in no small part by the fact that about 80% of the crowd were already wearing their merch. That kind of turnout for an opener speaks volumes, but Omoia didn’t coast on goodwill. They tore into their set with passion, precision, and an infectious enthusiasm that could win over even the most Stoic gig-goer. Every track landed with force, blending urgency with a deep musicality that never once felt forced or postured. There’s something undeniably genuine about Omoia—watching them, you get the sense they’re doing this because they have to, because the music demands it. If you’re looking to book a band who will not only bring the energy but turn a room into believers, Omoia are one to pay attention to. No question.
TAYNE followed with a stark contrast. Serious, polished, and dipping heavily into a Muse-like atmosphere, their set felt clinical where Omoia’s had been chaotic and heartfelt. That’s not to say it didn’t have its moments—the layers of sound and sharp production were clearly intentional—but something didn’t quite click tonight, where it had before at previous shows. The energy between band and audience felt thin, and when bassist/vocalist Matt asked if the crowd wanted two more songs, the reaction was less as eager. Which is a shame as their latest record LOVE has pushed the band further and to great reception from fans old and new across the UK and beyond.
Pupil Slicer arrived ready to destroy. Backed by a full room and feeding off the lingering adrenaline, their set was everything you want from a headline slot: aggressive, tightly executed, and completely unrelenting. They tore through their set with bags of confidence, even throwing in two new tracks ‘Heather’ & ‘Black Scrawl’ that proved their evolution isn’t slowing down any time soon. The pit became a blur of bodies—including, notably, Omoia themselves, throwing down alongside the fans they’d just finished winning over. Mid-set, the chaos briefly paused for a birthday shout to the sound engineer, complete with a mangled sing along. It was weird, it was loud, and it was kind of perfect.