Deafheaven stormed into Nottingham last Sunday turning one of Nottinghams newest venues The Palais into a shrine of glorious, blackgaze euphoria. What could’ve been an awkward booking with a band of Deafheaven’s scale crammed into a venue better known for its neon nights out and Christmas works parties instead became the kind of chaotic, transcendent evening people will brag about being at for years.

Zeruel opened the night with a fog-thick wash of shoegazing despair, channelling Slow Crush, Holy Fawn and the dreamlike edges of Deafheaven’s own back catalogue. It’s a slow, enveloping burn – all dense atmosphere, deep noise, and shimmering gloom delivering the kind of set that makes you forget the outside world exists for a while.

Then Portrayal of Guilt hit and any lingering sense of serenity is instantly obliterated. It’s pure violence: a feral, suffocating blast of black-metal abrasion that feels like being punched square in the face. Their set is a reminder that this genre has teeth and by the end the room is left gasping before it was time for the evenings main event Deafheaven.

By the time the headliners walk on, the crowd is primed and unhinged. George Clarke stalks the stage like a man possessed, all twitching tension and electric charisma, and the moment the band erupts, The Palais goes feral which is something we haven’t seen happen in Notts for quite a while now. New tracks from Lonely People With Power slot in so naturally you’d think they’d already been in the set for years  “Doberman” “Magnolia” and the rest delivered with a hunger that makes them instant classics. The old favourites, meanwhile, hit with the emotional weight of scripture; you could feel the entire room levitating.

The sound takes a minute to settle with this being one of the first heavy gigs at the Palais but once it locks in, the walls might as well be dissolving. The Palais, usually a nightclub built for cheap thrills and late-night chaos, transforms into something darker, heavier, almost spiritual and deafheaven drag something primal out of everyone: pits erupt and strangers cling to each other mid-crescendo like they’ve just witnessed the rapture.

The connection between band and audience is electric – a feedback loop of sweat, catharsis and sheer devotion. By the end, there’s no question: the venue choice wasn’t just fine, it was perfect. Intimate, claustrophobic, unforgettable.

Deafheaven didn’t just play Nottingham. They blessed it.
A triumph. A meltdown. A religious experience in blast beats and bliss.
Fucking glorious carnage.