Sydney Olympic Park is buzzing with a frenetic energy that feels like a collision of worlds. The Wallabies are battling the All Blacks next door, and their roars spill over into our side of the precinct, where Parkway Drive has drawn an army of metalheads. It’s an odd juxtaposition—sports fans wrapped in team colours weaving through a sea of black T shirts, where Void of Vision, The Ghost Inside, and I Prevail are due to perform. Unfortunately Void of Vision and The Ghost Inside don’t make the stage tonight because of transport issues that delayed their arrival in Sydney.
Nevertheless tonight feels like a storm gathering, the air thick with anticipation, and as I make my way through the chaos, the tribal pull of heavy riffs and guttural screams seems to sync with the rising pulse of the night. It’s a celebration, but one with an edge, where catharsis meets chaos, and Parkway Drive is about to ignite the fuse.
But first, Detroit’s own I Prevail crash into the arena, ready to unleash a decade’s worth of momentum on a crowd that’s packed tighter than a storm cloud about to burst. Eric Vanlerberghe grabs the mic, recounting how their journey began with a cover of Taylor Swift’s “Blank Space”—an unlikely origin story for a band that now commands metal’s fiercest stages. As they rip into the track, the crowd roars, fully onboard with the paradox. Vanlerberghe points out a guy in a banana suit, urging him to lead a circle pit, because why not? The crowd, sweaty and euphoric, swells to every riff, with “Hurricane” hitting a special nerve—a raw anthem about mental health that feels like collective therapy in motion. When they leave the stage, to the the bizarrely tender strains of “You’ve Got a Friend in Me,” from Toy Story, something almost cinematic happens. Thousands of metalheads start singing along, a moment that feels like a strange but beautiful shared secret, a reminder that sometimes chaos makes room for connection.
When Parkway Drive’s moment arrives, it feels less like the start of a set and more like the beginning of a championship bout. Winston McCall, all in white, steps into the arena like a prizefighter about to go twelve rounds. They don’t just appear on stage—they enter from the back, moving through the crowd with the swagger of contenders ready to claim their title. Fist bumps and hugs punctuate their path, every fan they touch fueling the anticipation. By the time they reach the stage, the energy has shifted—this isn’t just a gig. It’s a heavyweight showdown, and Parkway Drive is here to deliver the knockout punch.
The stage looms like something out of a dystopian dream—a hulking, post-industrial structure that towers over the crowd. At key moments, a steel cage descends from the ceiling, and in one breathtaking instance, it holds guitarist Jeff Ling, who’s lifted high as pyrotechnics explode beneath him. It’s the kind of spectacle that could swallow a lesser band, but Parkway Drive commands every second of it. Winston McCall, confesses to the crowd that this is their biggest headline show in 20 years. He jokes about having a dry mouth from the sheer intensity of it all—”this is so nuts.”
The band brings out a legend from their past, I Killed the Prom Queen’s Michael Crafter, the man who gave them their first break. They rip through their set, with “Horizons” hitting like an emotional gut punch—one of McCall’s favourites, it hasn’t been played live for a long time. As if the spectacle wasn’t already enough, dancers take the stage, and McCall, shedding his white gear for all-black, delivers “Cemetery Bloom” wielding a mic stand twisted into the shape of giant thorns. It’s theatrical, visceral, and completely unforgettable—Parkway Drive at their most transcendent.
What stands out about Parkway Drive is how, even amid all the spectacle—the towering stage, the relentless pyrotechnics—they remain a band of brothers at heart. There’s this quiet, unspoken camaraderie as they huddle together centre stage, the same way they must’ve done in their Byron Bay rehearsal spot, ‘The Parkway House,’ all those years ago. It’s as if no amount of fame or grandeur has loosened that bond. They’ve grown, but haven’t outgrown where they started. Like Rocky Balboa, they’ve transcended their humble beginnings, fighting their way to the top, but never forgetting the grit, the hustle, and the connection that got them here.
Champions, not just by virtue of their success, but because they’ve stayed true to themselves.
The tour moves to Melbourne, Adelaide and Perth next – tickets HERE.
No Comment