SPITE, EMMURE, PSYCHO-FRAME, REV3RENT In Las Vegas, NV With Photos!

Thursday, July 2, 2026 at 7:58 AM

By Arnold "Rocky" Kessenger/Through The Metal Lens

The New World Killer Tour Comes To A Brutal Conclusion At Fremont Country Club On June 28th

All Live Photos By Arnold "Rocky" Kessenger/@through_the_metal_Lens

SPITE Closed the New World Killer Tour in Las Vegas Like a Band Ready for Bigger Rooms

Fremont Country Club is not a pretty room, and that is exactly why nights like this work there. It sits right off Fremont Street in downtown Las Vegas, where the outside world is lights, tourists, drinks, bad decisions, and noise. Then you step inside, and everything gets smaller, darker, sweatier, and a lot more honest.

I have shot multiple shows in that room, and it has a way of making extreme music feel close enough to bite. The stage is tight. The lighting is usually fighting for its life. The crowd is right on top of the bands. When the right lineup comes through, it feels like someone locked the doors and dared everyone to survive the night.

On June 28, the final night of the New World Killer Tour brought REV3RENT, PSYCHO-FRAME, EMMURE, and SPITE to Fremont Country Club. It was a strong package because every band brought a different kind of damage. REV3RENT came in young and hungry. PSYCHO-FRAME brought modern deathcore panic. EMMURE brought the veteran catalog and bounce. SPITE came in as the reason the room felt dangerous before they even stepped onstage.

REV3RENT opened the night, and I will be honest: I did not know much about them going in. I knew there was hype around them being on this tour, but I was not going to pretend I had some deep backstory with the band. Sometimes that is the best way to catch an opener. No homework. No expectations. Just camera in hand, waiting to see if they can make the room care.

They did.

The band looked young, locked in, and ready to prove something. It appeared to be a five-piece, which is not always easy on a stage that size. Too many bodies on a small stage can turn into a traffic jam with breakdowns. REV3RENT avoided that. They moved together well, especially when the heavy parts hit. Songs like “Been There, Mutilated That” and “…Of Blood and Brutality” gave their short set a nasty first impression.

There was not much talking between songs, but they did not need a motivational speech. The attitude came through in the movement, middle fingers, jumps, crowd interaction, and general “fuck you” energy. For a first band, the crowd response was strong. That matters. Openers have to fight people walking in, checking merch, grabbing drinks, and deciding whether their knees are ready for poor decisions. REV3RENT made people pay attention.

Their set carried a dark, internal weight. Spiritual decay, isolation, mental strain, grief, and personal conflict all seemed to sit underneath the sound. I am not going to act like I knew every song, but I walked away wanting to spend more time with their catalog. That is a win for an opening band. They did not just fill time. They made a first impression.

PSYCHO-FRAME was different. I knew exactly who they were.

I do not like calling a band an overnight success because that usually ignores the work they put in before people started paying attention, but PSYCHO-FRAME has exploded in the modern deathcore conversation. The crowd reaction made it clear this was not just internet noise.

Their set had what I am calling the dual deathcore attack. Maybe that is not the official term, but it is now, at least in my brain. Two vocalists trading that level of violence gives the performance a different pressure. It feels like the songs are coming at you from both sides. One voice hits, the other answers, and suddenly the room feels smaller.

PSYCHO-FRAME sounded tight. The crowd knew the songs. The energy was immediate. “Still Water Salvation” and “The Plot to Nuke the Midwest” hit with that frantic, ugly pressure that makes their live set work. Their music leans into existential horror, medical trauma, body horror, psychological collapse, and cold systems chewing people up. Live, that translated into controlled panic. If REV3RENT brought spiritual decay, PSYCHO-FRAME brought the autopsy report.

The biggest issue with the first two sets was not the bands. It was the lighting. Yes, I am going to keep bitching about deathcore and death metal lighting until someone fixes it.

I love the music. I do not love trying to shoot bands in lighting that looks like someone handed a flashlight to a raccoon and told it to run the board.

Content creators and photographers want to make these bands look as insane as they sound. Help us help you. Red wash, darkness, and fog can create atmosphere, but when the entire set looks like a cave with a strobe light problem, it does not do the band any favors.

Then came EMMURE.

Let’s be clear: I know who EMMURE is. This was my first time seeing them live, but I have listened to them for years. I know the catalog. I know the anthems. I know the breakdowns. I also know they live in that strange space between nu-metal groove and deathcore weight. That might not be a perfect genre label, but fans know what that means. Bounce, anger, betrayal, critics, backstabbers, and a whole lot of “me against the world” energy.

Musically, they sounded good. The bass was ridiculous. I could feel it in my chest while shooting, and the crowd clearly loved them. “Solar Flare Homicide” brought that blunt-force EMMURE bounce early, while “Dogs Get Put Down” gave longtime fans something deeper to grab onto. People knew the lyrics. The sing-alongs were strong. The floor gave them the reaction you expect from a band with that kind of history.

But EMMURE was also my biggest disappointment of the night.

Not because the songs were bad. They were not. Not because the sound lacked power. It did not. The issue was the performance around the songs. Frankie Palmeri did not bring the presence I expected. Maybe it was the final night of the tour. Maybe the band was tired. Maybe the sound problems knocked the wind out of the set. All of that could be true. Still, from where I stood, the set felt flatter than it should have.

The lighting did not help. EMMURE is not black metal. They are not trying to summon a forest demon in Norway at 2 a.m. This is music with bounce, groove, and crowd connection. If you are onstage in a tracksuit performing songs built to slam and move, the stage should match that energy. The crowd brought their side of the deal. The catalog brought the weight. The stage show did not fully meet them halfway.

I know people who saw EMMURE on other dates and said they destroyed. I believe them. I would like to see them again because the better version of that show is probably out there. It just did not fully show up in Sin City.

Then SPITE took the stage, and the room changed.

I am not pretending to be neutral here. I am a SPITE fan. Full stop. I reviewed ‘New World Killer’, loved the album, and had been waiting for this show since it was announced. When Las Vegas became the final night of the tour, it felt like a gift wrapped in barbed wire.

My first time seeing SPITE was years ago in Charlotte, North Carolina, on a Dying Fetus tour. I was in the photo pit, and another photographer asked if I knew who they were. I said no. She looked at me and said, “You’re about to get fucked up.”
She was right.

SPITE destroyed that room, and I have been locked in ever since. My son was with me that night too. He has come up through different lanes of heavy music and hip-hop, but after that show he went home, dug into SPITE’s catalog, and became a fan. That is what this band does. They get people.

Waiting for them at Fremont felt ridiculous in the best way. I am old enough to remember running downstairs as a kid, seeing a new box of cereal, and knowing there was a toy inside. You did not even care about the cereal yet. You wanted the prize.
That was me in the pit.

Bring me my fucking cereal toy.

SPITE opened with “New World Killer,” and it worked as both a warning shot and mission statement. From there, they hit “IED” and “Snap,” which is about as strong of an early run as I could ask for. “Snap” was one of the songs I wanted most. For me, that song feels like pressure finally breaking through the walls. It is rage, collapse, and release all at once. If your brain is wired for heavy music, songs like that become therapy.

That is where SPITE separates themselves. Their music is violent, but it is not empty. “Made to Please,” “Gavel,” “Caved In,” “IED,” “Shedding Skin,” “Hand of the Reaper,” and “Kill or Be Killed” carry real targets: abusers, failed justice, class rage, mental collapse, survival, and the ugliest parts of human nature. SPITE does not write violence for decoration. They write it like evidence.

Before “Made to Please,” Darius Tehrani made the target clear, calling it a song about killing pedophiles. That moment fit the band’s identity. SPITE takes disgust, trauma, revenge, and survival, and turns it into something physical. It is not polite. It is not subtle. It is not supposed to be.

“Gavel” hit like judgment with no appeal. That song has always felt like SPITE ripping authority out of the hands of people who failed to use it right. “Caved In” carried that same anti-establishment rage, swinging at greed, power, and the suit-and-tie rot that sits above everyone else pretending the system works. Those songs hit me because I understand that kind of anger. Maybe not in the same way the band writes it, but enough to know what it feels like when the world keeps asking you to stay calm while everything inside you is chewing through the cage.

That is why “IED” and “Snap” landed so hard for me. I do not connect to SPITE because it is fun violence for the sake of looking tough. I connect because there are days where mental health, pressure, intrusive thoughts, and that old internal static feel like they are trying to take the wheel. SPITE gives that feeling a sound. It lets the ugliest parts of the brain scream for a while without pretending they are pretty.

They played for what felt like around an hour and ten or fifteen minutes, which is a serious stretch for deathcore. That kind of set can bury a band if the songs and stamina are not there. SPITE had both. “Hand of the Reaper” brought that darker New World Killer weight, and “Kill or Be Killed” closed the night like the last swing in a room already beaten half to death. No massive props. No overblown theatrics. No gimmick. They walked out, kicked everyone in the teeth, and told the room to pick them back up.

The lighting was better than earlier in the night, though still not perfect. The sound was excellent. The band was locked in. The crowd was fully committed. Fremont Country Club felt like it was being pulled apart from the inside, and everyone seemed fine with that decision.

What makes SPITE work live, is the switch. Offstage, they come across like deathcore teddy bears: thoughtful, grateful, and connected to the scene. Onstage, they flip into something closer to Berserk. The violence feels controlled, but barely, and that tension is what makes them dangerous in the best way.

By the end, Darius thanked the crowd, acknowledged the final night of the tour, and made it clear they would be back. Then SPITE closed with “Kill or Be Killed,” tearing the room open one last time.

The New World Killer Tour ended in Las Vegas with a lineup that showed several sides of modern heavy music. REV3RENT proved they are worth watching. PSYCHO-FRAME showed why the hype is real. EMMURE delivered the songs but not the full performance. SPITE closed the night like a band ready for bigger rooms without losing the violence that got them there.

If you are not a SPITE fan yet, I am sorry.
SPITE Cult, motherfuckers.

REV3RENT