GWAR – First Avenue – Minneapolis MN – April 7th 2026

First Avenue presents GWAR and special guests Soulfly and King Parrot on April 7th 2026

Review and photos by Kyle Hansen

King Parrot came out swinging delivering exactly what you’d expect from them—fast, abrasive, and unapologetically chaotic.

As the opener, they didn’t ease the crowd in. The set hit immediately with blast beats, sharp tempo shifts, and Matt Young’s signature snarling vocals cutting through the room. Their style leans hard into grindcore and thrash, so the songs came rapid-fire, with barely any downtime between them. That actually worked in their favor—no chance for the energy to dip.

The crowd response built quickly. Even early in the night, you could see movement in the pit, which isn’t always guaranteed for the first band. By the middle of the set, they had people fully engaged—headbanging, pushing forward, and reacting to every breakdown and tempo spike.

Stage presence was scrappy but effective. They’re not theatrical in the way some bands on that tour are, but they don’t need to be. The intensity feels more raw than polished, which fits the music. It comes across less like a performance and more like a controlled explosion.

If there’s a downside, it’s just the nature of an opening slot: short runtime. Their set likely clocked in around half an hour, so it felt more like a burst than a full experience. But that also meant no filler—just a concentrated dose of their heaviest material.

Overall, it was a strong opener set: aggressive, tight, and engaging enough to win over people who may not have come in as fans. They did exactly what an opening band should do at a venue like First Avenue—wake the room up and make sure nobody stayed passive.

Soulfly hit the stage with a set that felt heavier, more grounded, and more groove-driven than the chaos that came before them.

Where the opener leaned into speed and disorder, Soulfly locked into thick, tribal-infused grooves. From the first riff, the room shifted—heads started nodding in sync rather than just exploding in every direction. That’s their strength: they don’t just go hard, they pull the whole crowd into a rhythm.

At the center of it all was Max Cavalera, who still commands the stage with a kind of raw authority. His vocals had that familiar bark—less about precision, more about power—and he knew exactly how to work the crowd. Call-and-response moments, shouted chants, and those signature “jump the fuck up” cues landed easily in a venue like First Avenue.

The set likely blended Soulfly staples with older material tied to Cavalera’s roots, and that mix kept longtime fans engaged while still hitting hard for newer listeners. Songs with tribal percussion elements and down-tuned riffs sounded especially massive in that room—dense, physical, and built for live impact.

The pit during their set felt different too: less frantic than King Parrot, more unified and heavy. Instead of constant chaos, it surged in waves—big pushes during breakdowns, then regrouping into that steady groove.

If there’s a critique, it’s that Soulfly’s pacing can sometimes blur together live. When you stack several mid-tempo, groove-heavy tracks back-to-back, the set can feel a bit one-dimensional if you’re not already into that style. But when it clicks, it really clicks—and at this show, it mostly did.

Overall, Soulfly delivered a solid, commanding middle slot performance: not flashy, not theatrical, but heavy in a way that sticks. They bridged the gap between raw opener energy and the spectacle of the headliner, keeping the crowd fully locked in.

GWAR wasn’t just a concert—it was a full-on spectacle built to overwhelm your senses.

From the moment they hit the stage, GWAR turned the room into their usual war zone of costumes, theatrics, and controlled chaos. Giant monster outfits, exaggerated weapons, and grotesque characters filled the stage, making it feel more like a sci-fi horror show than a typical metal set. At First Avenue—tight, iconic, and packed—that visual insanity felt even more intense because there’s no distance from it.

Musically, they were tight and punchy. GWAR’s songs aren’t about technical showboating; they’re built for impact—simple, aggressive riffs, driving rhythms, and hooks that hit hard live. The band kept things moving fast, using songs as vehicles for the next onstage “event,” whether that meant a mock execution, a ridiculous storyline moment, or another blast of fake blood into the crowd.

And that’s a big part of it: the crowd participation wasn’t optional. If you were anywhere near the front, you were getting sprayed—no way around it. By halfway through the set, a good chunk of the audience was drenched, laughing, and fully committed to the absurdity. The pit reflected that too: less about pure aggression, more about chaotic fun—people slipping, crashing, and grinning through it.

The current lineup carried the legacy well, balancing humor, shock, and heaviness without it feeling tired. The frontperson kept the banter crude and over-the-top, leaning into GWAR’s signature satire—mocking everything from politics to pop culture in between songs.

If there’s any drawback, it’s that the spectacle can overshadow the music if you’re not already into their style. Some moments blur together because the focus shifts constantly from song to skit to visual gag. But that’s also the point—GWAR isn’t meant to be consumed like a standard set.

Overall, it was exactly what a GWAR headlining show should be: loud, ridiculous, messy, and unforgettable. They didn’t just close the night—they turned it into a full experience that left the crowd soaked, exhausted, and entertained.