Full Volume Rituals: Tribulation, Unto Others, Final Gasp and Unreqvited - Live in San Diego

Tribulation, Unto Others, Final Gasp, Unreqvited
Brick by Brick
San Diego, California
May 11, 2025

Summer finally remembered San Diego. After weeks of limp skies and beachcombing locals bundled like Appalachian hikers, the heat returned with the subtlety of a flamethrower. And as the mercury climbed, so too did the anticipation. By sundown, the Brick by Brick parking lot had become a pre-fight tailgate of patched denim, vape clouds, and people chomping at the bit for the aural onslaught that awaited

Four bands. One venue. No mercy. First up were the melancholic emissaries from Ottawa: Unreqvited. Earlier in the day, they'd reportedly been spotted enjoying the full SoCal baptism—barefoot on the beach and elbows deep in a burrito the size of a toddler. But any residual warmth vanished the second they took the stage. Their blend of funereal atmospherics and blackened swells hit harder live than on record—denser, more primal, like grief funneled through amplifiers.

Their set moved with a kind of mournful majesty. Guitars shimmered like ice fracturing underfoot, while blastbeats staggered into doomier, lumbering tempos. The closer, “The Autumn Fire,” felt like a genuine invocation—delicate and vicious in equal measure. It wasn’t flashy, but it didn’t need to be. It left the crowd reverent and disoriented, like stepping out of a confessional into a rave.

Then came Final Gasp, a Boston-bred wrecking crew who hit the stage like they were trying to demolish it from the inside. Their music was a snarling hybrid of hardcore, goth rock, and metal—Samhain with a crowbar and a day job. The sound mix fought them at times—muddy lows, vocals cutting in and out—but they never blinked. They forced their message across with sheer kinetic violence.

Their setlist—“Look Away,” “Mourning Moon,” “Suicide”—landed like a flurry of body blows. Frontman Jake Murphy stalked the stage with animalistic menace and the crowd responded in kind: a sea of heads banging out pent-up grievances. It wasn’t pretty, but it was real—and sometimes that’s more powerful than precision.

By the time Unto Others took the stage, the room was humming. This is a band in ascension, no question, due in no small part to the generous airtime they’ve been enjoying on Sirius XM. When Murphy earlier asked who was here to see them, the roar nearly lifted the roof. This was their crowd.

Gabriel Franco strutted onstage with all the drama of a goth ringmaster, swinging between crooner, preacher, and misfit rock god. Halfway through, he nearly tanked the mood by beginning to thank San Francisco, but caught himself mid-syllable. The crowd let him have it—loud, jeering, but good-humored—and like a true showman, he leaned into it, grinning through the shame.

And then they delivered. Over a seventeen-song set, they unfurled track after track of melodic goth metal anthems: “Butterfly,” “Nightfall,” “Fame,” “Heroin,” “It Doesn’t Really Matter.” The crowd sang every word like it was a battle hymn. Their cover of the Ramones’ “Pet Sematary” was a highlight—cheeky, swinging, and just theatrical enough to work.

But the moment was “Time Goes On.” Opening with Navi’s ‘Hey, listen!’ sample (look it up), it bloomed into a euphoric, goth-positive anthem that somehow made existential dread feel like a group hug. “Time goes on, don’t look back, it will pass you by…” That line hung in the air like incense—melancholic, defiant, unforgettable.

And finally: Tribulation.

By now, the pit had grown swampy, shirts were soaked through, and attention spans were threadbare. But as the lights dimmed and the orange glow hit, a hush fell over the room. The opening strains of “The Unrelenting Choir” weren’t so much played as conjured. What followed was a masterclass in theatrical, melodic blackened metal.

The band tore into “Tainted Skies,” “Nightbound,” “Hamartia,” and “Suspiria de Profundis” with the confidence of veterans and the hunger of a band still climbing. Where Unto Others ignited the crowd, Tribulation hypnotized it. Every move was deliberate, every song a portal. The band’s interplay was immaculate, but special praise must go to guitarists Adam Zaars and Joseph Tholl, whose twin-axe attack carved out a sound both baroque and brutal. Their tones were searing, their leads lyrical—part cathedral, part cemetery.

Johannes Andersson, bassist and frontman, gave a clinic in how to anchor a band without anchoring the momentum. Too often in metal, the bass becomes ghostly at best—but not here. His playing was muscular, groove-laden, and utterly vital. He didn’t just hold the rhythm—he made it breathe.

The set closed with “Strange Gateways Beckon,” and by then, it truly felt like a spell had been cast. The crowd, drained and dazed, clung to every note.

This wasn’t just a show—it was a four-part sermon delivered in distortion, eyeliner, and raw feeling. From Unreqvited’s frostbitten lamentations to Tribulation’s swirling gothic cyclone, the night moved like a fever dream made flesh. If you weren’t there, you missed something real. And if you were there, well… you’re probably still humming “Time Goes On” in the dark, wondering what the hell just happened.