[Gig Review] STONED JESUS ‘XV Anniversary & Australian Debut Tour’ Richmond (Melb, AU) 04.10.25.
Writer: Brady Irwin
Photographer: Richie Black Photography
Venue: The Leadbeater Hotel
Date: Saturday, 4th October 2025
Location: Richmond, Melbourne (Australia)
Artists: Stoned Jesus (Kyiv, Ukraine), Emergency Rule (Adelaide, SA) & Oceanlord (Melbourne, VIC)
Organiser: Your Mate Bookings
(see end of article for relevant links)
Somehow, after nearly a decade living in Victoria The Leadbeater Hotel was one I’d had no previous engagement with until early 2025 - thanks to some ripper tours courtesy of Your Mate Bookings (i.e. Atheist 08.06.25 - see here for review and likewise here for review of Enforcer on 25.01.25).
Nevertheless, nothing drapes an otherwise neutral piece of architecture with emotional attachment better than a great gig. Thus, cramped and awkward as it may be to navigate the slipway from front-bar to back room at this Richmond venue (not to mention the huge din from an already-packed crowd!), I felt instantly cosy and at-home. As many of us gig-fanatics do at our secondary places of live-music residence.
Speaking of ‘at home’, as one based eastward of Geelong on the Bellarine Peninsula, tonight was actually my first time catching Melburnian doomsters Oceanlord on home turf.
Having previously swayed in methodical head-bang and fist-pump to these capital-city coastal-themed doomsters down in good ol’ Geetroit, I was more than eager to see how they’d bat whilst playing on the home field.
Turns out, just as well as my previous experiences down the road. There’s a reason the room’s nearing full from the outset, in other words.
And they’re an interesting sort, visually. Interesting insofar as mental imagery and stereotypes by subgenre, anyway.
Your stock-standard double-dose guitars, bass and drummer doom quartet, slinging walls of booming riffage. But there’s also quite a few chair-pulls the ‘Lord wrenches out from the typical doomster aesthetic, too. Take the blackened-thrash-happy studded jacket adorned by frontman/guitarist Peter Willmott, a man flailing out vocal arrangements that bear as much resemblance to 90’s alt-rock snark as anything else, with all manner of lead-guitar flourishes to bring the tone out from Melbourne’s sludge-loving stereotypical depths. Aiding and abetting the smuggling of numerous excursions across doom-metal’s vacuous borders was the shred-heavy antics of lead guitarist Nick Potaris, who slathered some intricate leads and histrionic solos atop the riffing with the perfect amount of seasoning. Chef’s kiss.
Between the nimble fretboard-attention of the guitar-duo, Jason Ker’s refusal as a bassist to stay squared within root-note nor fuzz-pedal monotone and Jon May’s octopoid, arm-flailing drumming, there’s plenty enough on offer to branch out from the tried and true tropes. Smatterings of psychedelia and classic-metal flavour worked in tandem alongside an energetic performance, singling these guys out as Not Like The Other Doom Guys. Solid stuff.
It’s no surprise that the crowd-facing response generated physically/verbally (and financially - I saw a lot of copies of Kingdom Cold tucked under arms through the night) resounded in thunderous cheering between songs and on conclusion. An act that leans heavily into their namesake, rollicking low-end waves of distortion, feedback and phaser in slow, crushing waves. Sailed as mentioned, by vocals that exude both gruffness and clean power.
Concluding off the back of crushing post-metal hypnosis into a more rock-and-roll finish, Oceanlord received a resounding boom of applause not too common for any gig opener. It’s not often a doom band can warm a metalhead audience to almost punk gig atmosphere right off the block!
Hopefully that’s endorsement enough to those not present tonight to catch their set at Halloween II at Bad Decisions Bar on the 31st (Facebook event page right here).
Not for the first time with a Leadbeater gig, the back-room’s feeling close to bursting by the end of our first set. It ain’t exactly The Forum but it’s also not as cramped as say Old Bar, either, so packed-out by 8pm is a great sign.
Pulling up a very brief pew (man’s busy) with Mr. Blayney himself, I learnt that tonight’s bill faced some tough competition (Witchskull AND Turtle Skull on the same night? Talk about option-paralysis). That reportedly didn’t stop a two-thirds capacity from the outset, and I daresay we had our share of stragglers join in over time too.
So yeah. One band down and we’re already off to the races, huh? Nice.
Speaking of races, Adelaide’s Emergency Rule served as the perfect abridgement between opener and headliner. Seriously.
Decidedly sharper and more succinct in song length than their forebears, these South Aussie hard-rockers were no less skilled in performance nor composition. Indeed, it was something of a stoner/doom/metal/hard rock diaspora Clutch-ed within a single bands’ set. A whole plethora of clever leads, fills, solos, riffage and trills plumbed from an expanse ranging Nebula, Red Fang, Black Sabbath, Fu Manchu. You could feel the collective eyebrow-raising in real time, a mixture of not just appreciation but a measure of surprise and awe at songwriting I can only really described as encyclopaedic.
Snarling with a throaty, guttural sneer that could fit just as snugly on Red Fang’s self-titled debut as it could Darkthrone’s Circle The Wagons, bassist/vocalist Doug Clark was equally chuffed holding back in pocket-space on the Rickenbacker as he was frantically harmonising alongside the escapades of guitarists Chris George and Callum Wegener. The fretted contingents’ seamless stylistic shifts between foot-stompin’ power-chord chug, scale runs, fiddly fills and bayou-ready blues-cruise was exacerbated tenfold with the regimented but super-playful work on the kit by a super-chuffed Travis Dragani on skins.
The thick-walled palm-muted chugs opening tracks like ‘The Hook’, ‘Corporation’ and ‘Ulysses’ (from latest LP The King of Ithaca, also tucked squarely under a number of arms tonight) merged seamlessly both with a plethora of blues-runs, stoner rock/metal riffage and even some classic-metal overtones throughout. Pumping out a whole menagerie of riffs, licks and leads alongside some more sombre, ambient moments (such as the orchestral backing to open up both ‘Abuse’ and the aforementioned closer Ulysses, the SA rock-and-rollers merged a damn well encyclopedic grasp on the book of riffs as they did shifting moods both within and across tracks.
I know I’m prone to hyperbole, but I am serious in bookmarking this set as some of the best Aussie stoner/blues-based hard rock I’ve seen live in a long time. If Neil Fallon and Clutch-Co. make it back to our shores for a tour, Emergency Rule to be less suggested as a support and moreso abducted and thrown in the van. Colour me, a holler-heavy crowd and our frantic howls of appreciation as Victorian endorsement to go on ‘n’ come back now, y’hear?!
Leaving the cramped confines of the crowd now gig-drunk on stoner, doom and their pints of preference for some ‘fresh air’ (nicotine), the uptick in hyperactivity was it’s own lace of smog inside and out. Like heavy-music homeopathy, we’ve been cleverly induced with the whole smorgasbord of possibility under the stoner/desert/doom/whatever umbrella.
Or so I thought.
Here’s where I inject some humble honesty to the review.
Typically I shy away from reviewing gigs for any band I haven’t had some measure of time, history and aural/psychological digestion. Call it one of my minds’ many vacuous and probably autism-derived rules.
Stoned Jesus were different, though. Seeing the lush tour poster, who was on promoter duties and the logo, I surprised myself in realising one had gotten under what felt like an omnipresent autism-radar. The name alone acts to invoke and defy expectations - for myself, at least. Expecting such a moniker to elicit some caustic, basement dwelling savagery a-la Thou, Khanate, Indian etc (mmm, delicious bands) I was thrown aback to cop a discography borrowing far more heavily from the melodic end of the stoner spectrum.
It actually took me a while for me to get into this band, and I wouldn’t say I’m alone in that respect. There’s an almost confusing but cleverly subtle interweaving of unorthodox styles in the mix with these Ukrainian legends. For a trio to be able to weave everything in the musical loom from post-rock, folk influences, alternative-rock, metal and more whilst still evoking a lone night under the mesa? Yeah, that takes skill, love and tact.
And as frontman Igor Sydorenko called for hushed quiet to deftly ply squeaky-clean arpeggiation and croons for introductory track ‘Bright Like The Morning’, more than a few pissed punters were taken aback with such a whimsical, serene kick-off. Not to mention the complete lack of usual pomp and fanfare.
No minute-plus of darkening lights and some film-score ambient, no b-roll on projectors, no sudden dimming or darkening, no deliberate teasing out members onstage one-by-one. Without a hint of pretence, and just as genuinely warm as the set wholesale.
And rock they did. Igor and bassist/backing vocalist Andrew Rodin holding their respective axes upright between the now-distorted supercharged riffage. Full rockstar energy, as the dextrous hands of one of the most intensely-focussed drummers I’ve ever seen in Yurii Kononov prove once again that you don’t need a Dream Theater cage and power-rack to make a song sound huge. Just passion and a flair for both pocket, groove and tasty fill garnish. Not to mention, old mate was bashing those skins hard!
A near nine-minute track passes as though we barely cleared radio-edit length, and we reflexively roar in unison. Again, it takes a subtle and deft craft to thoroughly sustain our smartphone-afflicted attention spans as though it were mere minutes - a time-blindness echoed later as feedback by many others.
It’s at this point I’m rapidly recognising why a Ukrainian stoner/desert rock band came with such an electric hype pre-tour. It’s enough to have a clever arsenal of techniques, but Igor and Andrew worked the crowd with the relentless fervour of a hardcore band comprised of 18-year-olds with untreated ADHD.
‘Porcelain’ follows up, and the songs’ moniker is a great allegory for Igor’s vocal performance. Like fine china, his approach to the mic was careful, as was his varied and dynamic vocal approach. Cadence, pitch, intonation, all warmly but carefully layered out, with Andrew proving himself equally able to shift from croon, to roar, to lilt, and more. A great juxtaposition with this track’s actual sound - slap-like grit from heavily dug-in picked bass, drumming as punchy in the fills as everywhere else, and some great neck-snap tone transitions on the guitar from studio clean to fuzzy desert filth. “How are these guys not bigger?!” was a sentiment I screamed at a few mates and randoms, but it wasn’t the last I’d hear it exclaimed from a charged-up throng behind me.
“We are indeed Stoned fuckin’ Jesus and we are touring Australia!” Igor proclaims, with the addendum of this statement being “something I never thought I’d hear myself utter in my lifetime!”.
There’s a sense so far of an almost OCD-flavoured studiousness for the musicianship, readily mixed in with a heart-on-sleeve display of appreciation that Ukrainian folk are well known for. About as emotionally subtle as a shot of vodka for breakfast, and as giddy with mirthful glee.
“You’re gonna know the next one, it’s from Songs To Sun”, the man proudly beams with a knowing grin. Several hoots of “OH YEAH” behind me precede about half the audience correctly roaring the next tracks’ title, ‘Shadowland’. Now, I’m aware setlist.fm is a thing, and I’m in the camp that prefer to peruse that after-the-fact if at all, but I couldn’t help but feel that was predictive on the punters’ behalf. They just know and love this band that much. Clapping, true-blue oi-oi-oi fist-pumps, a buckling front barrier and we’re talking about the first few bars of the track proper.
With a more sparse and anthemic chorus, this track bears the post-rock/metal comparison quite well. Heck, on the night as during my pre-gig research in the months prior, I still can’t help but feel like the overall structure belongs as much on Cult of Luna’s The Beyond as it does the Jesus’ beloved 2012 LP. Much like the former, the latter wrangled all number of clever use of effects and negative space before building to a riff-wall ending that I’m sure got a few gurning doom-metal oof expressions from the gigs’ openers.
I’d also like to point out that it’s at this point of writing the review that I had to dive back into my own notes just to double-check how far in I’d gotten with my setlist recollection. That whole flow-state feeling I alluded to prior? Yeah - at several points during the SJ set I realised I was far too transfixed on every moment, paradoxically missing the announcement of the second track from the stage’s orator.
Gobsmacked but also attentive, whilst wildly booming in appreciation. I’m known for naively appreciating any bands’ set (sometimes to a fault, if beer garden feedback discussions are to be believed…?) and giving anyone who goes onstage a fair shake of the verbal/physical sauce bottle. Gigs basically turn me into a doe-eyed puppy dog, kicking my erstwhile metalhead-pretence straight to the curb.
But I found myself surprised in the magnitude of my own reaction. Cheering, howling, and overall reacting to these dudes with equal fervour to my mates - one of them dressed smart as a business meeting just for the band, the other clawing out “Fuckyeeeeeeeeeeah, we love you Stoned Jesus-woooo-ooooo!” in any opportune moment of silence. You know who you are, lads. ;)
That communal sense of love was only ratcheted up a notch with Igor’s brief, sentimental and pointed announcement of there being a fundraising collection going on for the aggrieved populace back home. Simply offering for folks to throw in some support but making a punk-rocker point to identify nil NGO/government involvement and encouraging us “to always go with direct action!”, the too-long and needlessly suffering plight of our Eastern European brethren is compassionately and warmly received by the crowd. Up the stoner-rock punks, apparently! Love to see it.
Thus, the lyrical content and near Bungle-esque discordance woven into ‘Thessalia’ incited a real gut-punch emotional reaction from me, between the now-strained perpetual headbangs and two-handed devil horn throws. The quieter moments of the track served to wrench a melancholy out that I wasn’t ready for, driven heavily by the track’s comparatively morose themes.
Evidence for the ongoing immemorial rebuttal against metalheads and rockers being violent individuals focussed on hate - here, I’m feeling a love and compassion not unlike that felt whilst watching a recent set from Taiwanese Buddhist death-metallers Dharma. And the latter have a freaking ordained monk onstage, dude.
Ebbing out amongst layered dual harmonies over some bluesy drumming only added to the impact, and the crowd erupted with compassion-soaked excitement in response.
It wasn’t all heavy, though - as someone who did two car-trips multiple thousands of kilometres from Brisbane to Melbourne (primarily to escape that goddamned humidity, couldn’t take it any more!), the repeated jeers of “Fuck Brisbane!” were met with laughter from the band, the frontman egging it on even more.
First time in seven years I’ve heard the usual which-city’s-better-huh frontman prodding levelled at Queensland, not Sydney. Let alone that refrain being carried into clapathon and riff of its’ own. Honestly a surreal and hilarious moment! Jolly japes aside, ‘Thoughts and Prayers’ saw our vocalist draw into more moribund and baritone registers, matching the martial doomy plod of the rhythm section to hit us with a nice coat of sludge-paint. The almost uneasy, half atonal Radiohead feel of the melodies felt near nauseating, washed out with a mid and latter section that really brought it in terms of heaviness - and mosh! It’s either stoner-cognition or Last Supper Syndrome, but either way The Leadbeater has finally done away with etiquette entirely as headbang-sway gives way to a surprisingly unruly moshpit. Finally!
“It’s only bangers from here”, Igor quips at the beginning of ‘Silkworm Confessions’, wasting not a second of Euro wit to sarcastically imply the set heretofore was anything but. Methinks the larrikin/convict aura from the floor has contagiously spread upwards and into the man’s nostrils. That and some cheeky weed smoke, but who books a band like Stoned Jesus and is surprised such a thing occurs?
Grateful the stealth-joints aren’t prematurely ending the gig under a hail of smoke detectors and water, it’s also not the thick haze you’d whiff downwind of Eyehategod open-air, either. I legitimately think a lot of cheeky buggers on the night probably packed some smoke but were just too enthralled throughout to light up. That’s when you know a band excels playing stoner.
As if in response, ‘Black Woods’ brings some Emergency Rule energy to the table with one of the more straightforward, whiskey-soaked bluesy pieces of the night. It’s at this stage time-blindness has yet again kicked in, I’m momentarily brought out of hyperfocus and realise over an hour has passed. Damn, dude, I really can not for the life of me remember the last time a band of their ilk had me this focussed - especially not when the Vyvanse wore off hours ago and the sad barrier soldier feels under full threat of collapse from a heaving swarm.
We then proceed to get ‘Low’, but there’s not much lean being tossed about the place. Sorry Lil’ Jon. What we do get is essentially as described to this point - a wreath of clever segues through arpeggios, fills, riff-stomps, bluesy meanderings and thoughtful intricate moments alike. The appeal’s warranted. I get it, and feel like I’ve been invited to a secret club. One who knows just how great a show one can come to expect from Stoned Jesus. Nowhere is that more apparent than the swelling, climactic crescendos of ‘I Am The Mountain’, a track that if not played may have well incited a riot and with good cause. Sprawling, epic, passing the ten-minute length with ease but feeling like a few blissful moments.
Finishing up, we get even more diversity on display with the ferocious punk energy of ‘Here Come The Robots’, a punchy number that feels akin to the snarkier, sharper tracks on early Queens of The Stone Age. Naturally, the pit gets about as rabid and fervent as you’d expect. Then we cop a cheeky medley of riffage from the frontman, rifling everything off from the Star Wars ‘Imperial March’ through to ‘I’ll Be There For You’, ‘Smoke On The Water’ and more. Bringing out the Boomer/drunk-uncle karaoke feel moments before capping proceedings with an electrifying rendition of ‘Electric Mistress’ (with an impressively drawn out call-response vocal jam with attendees) and our sojourn is finally complete.
Look, I know it’s been a long review for three bands. Yeah? But I had to give these guys justice. As a relatively new inductee to the Stoned Jesus live canon, I and anyone else fresh to their stage show are made eager acolytes. The cult-like buzz around these guys is in no way buried under pretence, withholding or posturing. Just three genuinely great guys, smashing out their skilful desert-stoner concoction, spending the rest of the night mingling amongst a bewildered and hugely appreciative crowd hanging out afterwards.
I’m glad I made the call to review Stoned Jesus - absolutely above and beyond my expectations, and I urge you to consider a ticket on their next run of Australian shores.
From this motley convict, a hearty Slava Ukraini to these legends.
You’re always welcome back in Australia with open arms.
LINKS:
Oceanlord:
Youtube Channel (Magnetic Eye Records)