There are some nights in Birmingham where everything just clicks. The room, the bands, the crowd, the history of the city humming under the floorboards. The kind of gig where you walk in expecting a standard Thursday night and leave feeling like the walls have been rewired. This was one of those nights. Asylum 2 has always had that electricity—no barriers, no glamour, just sweat, grit, and the truth of live music. Three bands, three entirely different energies, all feeding off the same shared pulse of the city that made heavy music what it is.
SLUMP
Slump opened the night with Kneel, their sound unfolding like a slow-moving seismic shift. Their music leans into atmosphere rather than aggression; thick, dragging riffs and dissonant edges that settle heavily in the chest. But what stood out most was the sheer presence they brought to the stage. This is a band that knows how to inhabit their space.
There’s a quiet confidence in the way they perform: no theatrics, no forced bravado, just complete immersion in the moment. The dynamic between the band members feels locked in, cohesive, and intent-driven. Every member is doing their work with purpose, and it shows.
And then there’s the drummer, an absolute animal behind the kit. Not just powerful, but expressive, shaping the band’s pacing and emotional intensity with precision. In Dust and Data Rot, his performance pushed the songs from heavy to crushing, opening up space for guitars to snarl and collapse into distortion. Every strike landed like punctuation; controlled, violent, and completely committed.
By the time Nothing More closed the set, Slump had delivered a performance that felt full, no half-measures, no holding back. They gave 110% and it translated. There is something undeniably promising here: the presence, the tone, the conviction. You can feel this band building toward something bigger, not just another name in the local scene, but one that could easily take on larger rooms and heavier bills in the near future.
A commanding, impressive opener — and one well worth watching closely. Outstanding performance from an outstanding band.
CHERRYDEAD
Then came CHERRYDEAD, and the atmosphere flipped instantly from simmering darkness to wildfire ignition. I’ve said before that Birmingham has something in its water when it comes to frontwomen with presence, control, and pure lightning-in-the-veins charisma, but CHERRYDEAD crystallise it. They are, without exaggeration, the best babs in Brum right now.
From the first bars of ENSNARED, they commanded the room with a confidence that felt earned, not performed. There is a precision to their stagecraft, but it never comes at the cost of emotional heat, the kind of band who moves as a single organism, chasing the exact moment where catharsis breaks skin.
Emily has that rare combination of presence and vulnerability: not just delivering lyrics, but inhabiting them. MY HELL ON EARTH and CYNTHIA were intense without becoming theatrical; full of grit, grief, and self-ownership.
The surprise highlight was their cover of Deftones’ Engine No. 9. Rather than emulate Chino Moreno’s elasticity, they restructured the track through their own sonic language. More menace, more punch, and absolutely their own. The crowd went off, and rightfully so, they nailed it.
What makes CHERRYDEAD special is not just their sound, but the connection they cultivate. There’s an emotional clarity in their performance — a sense that every lyric, every drop, every scream has been lived, processed, and reclaimed. It’s rare to see a band who can move with such intensity while still holding the crowd close, never pushing them away or performing at them. Their music feels communal, like it’s being made with the audience rather than for them. That’s not stagecraft, that’s identity, and it cannot be taught. It’s the kind of authenticity that marks a band built for longevity.
FORSAKEN LAND closed the set in a torrent of emotional release, the crowd visibly locked in. There is no question here: CHERRYDEAD are currently one of the best babs in Brum, and one of the most compelling heavy acts emerging from the city’s underground. Their trajectory is upward… sharply so.
When asked to sum up the night Emily replied “fabulous” and Kelly with “Spectacular” – both are absolutely right!
I walked in already loving them. I left convinced they’re about to break bigger stages.
BLACK SABBITCH
Performing Black Sabbath in Birmingham carries a weight you can’t sidestep — it’s not just nostalgia here, it’s lineage, memory, and identity. Black Sabbitch approached that responsibility with reverence and a musician’s precision, rather than leaning on imitation. The set opened with War Pigs, immediately pulling the room into collective voice — that iconic siren-call opening riff landing with the kind of significance that only happens here, on this soil.
From there, the band moved through a setlist that read like the very architecture of heavy metal:
• Funeral
• Wall of Sleep
• N.I.B.
• Hand of Doom
• The Wizard
• Killing Yourself to Live
• Snowblind
• A National Acrobat
• Into the Void
• Under the Sun
• Sweet Leaf / Graveyard (medley)
• and finally Shockwave / Paranoid as the encore lift-off.
What made the performance compelling wasn’t perfect replication — it was interpretation grounded in understanding. The riffs had that unmistakable Sabbath looseness, the tempo breathed like a living thing, and the low-end carried the warm, valve-saturated weight that so many tribute acts overlook. Hand of Doom in particular was given space to stretch, slow, and seethe — a highlight in how the band controlled dynamic tension.
Throughout the set, the band engaged the crowd with ease , not theatrically, but in a way that acknowledged the shared ownership of these songs. This wasn’t a band replaying classics; it was a band reanimating them for the city that shaped them. The response was communal, unguarded, joyful. You could feel the pride.
Black Sabbitch didn’t just honour Sabbath. They honoured Birmingham.
By the time they closed, it wasn’t tribute anymore. It was a reminder of how much Birmingham still beats at the centre of heavy music’s mythology.
FINAL THOUGHTS
Three bands, three different approaches to heaviness—and not a single wasted moment.
Slump — atmospheric dread done with intention and weight.
CHERRYDEAD — undeniable, emotional, feral, magnetic. Best babs in Brum and rising fast.
Black Sabbitch — a triumphant, joyful reclamation of Sabbath’s legacy, played back to the city that forged it.
A night that felt like Birmingham recognising itself.
Images: Natalie Chew (@nat_sabbath)
Words: Michael Chew
