Thrashville - Festival Review 28th June @ Dashville, Hunter Valley NSW
Thrashville
Dashville Camp Grounds, Hunter Valley NSW
June 28, 2025
Driving up the Pacific Highway out of Sydney at 8.30am on a Saturday morning doesn’t exactly sound too hard-basket, but if you and your mate Jack pulled up stumps at 2am the night before, after having caught King Parrot, Potion, Carnal Viscera and Maggot Cave absolutely blow the doors off the Crowbar, then you might be feeling a bit second hand. So why would we dodge a well needed post-gig sleep-in and venture north this fine winter morn? Because twenty three of Australia’s finest established and emerging underground bands are gathered at a campground in the Hunter Valley for the annual Thrashville Festival and we’re not missing this for all the sleep in Australia.
After a couple of pit stops on the way up and we get to the campgrounds just before noon. Despite our best intentions to get here for kick off at 11am, our lack of real planning meant we had to stop off at a nearby shopping centre for some camping supplies. While the festival itself is a no BYO food and drink affair, the campsite still allows for you to bring whatever you need outside of the festival boundaries. All they ask is that you don’t bring glass and you don’t start a fire.
We catch the beautiful final throes of contenders for best-named band of the festival, Cammy Cautious and The Wrestlers, who I’m told were incredible and I fucked up by missing them. I’m also dirty I missed festival openers Epyphany, a band I was told about by a colleague who caught them playing at the memorial of Brad Lonergan, a celebrated tattooist, one of my inspirations to start tattooing and the first bloke to ever put ink to my skin.
We swan past the pair of bored security guards at the festival entrance and after a quick squiz around this rustic, yet very busy set up, I already know I’m gunna need Monday off. There are massive fire pits scattered about the joint, a couple of bars, food and goodies stalls, a merch tent, four stages and hundreds of well dressed legends. We wander past the very busy tattoo tent to the Skate Ramp stage to catch our first band of the day, Blood Trails, a death-thrash-crust four-piece from Sydney who are, respectfully, a bit more on the seasoned side of things. On paper, Blood Trails are a relatively new group, but their collective resume of bands is a fair indication of their pedigree. They have a real High on Fire feel, miles of low end and their song ‘Unholy Alliance’ shakes off the haze of last night. It’s noon but it feels like 7am. I’m still drinking coffee but it’s clearly beer drinking weather. Blood Trails are playing like there’s no neighbours to piss off and if there’s any wildlife around they’ve fucked off long ago. They thank us for coming out early for some “lunchtime metal” and I think its fair to say that they’ve beautifully set the mood for today.
Looking about the crowd, there’s a few legends that have camped the night, a bunch that just got here and then there's a few critters that look like they’ve just crawled out of the bush. I stick my head in the tattoo shed to suss out the set up and it looks tip top. The health inspectors have done their bit, ensuring its all above board. There’s miles of flash to choose from, everyone is flat out and the fine crew here even managed to bang out a bunch of tattoos yesterday arvo on those smart enough to camp out the night before.
Pit put a lot of smiles on faces at the Tractor Shed. The stage itself is the balcony of an old timber house with a stuffed unicorn nailed to it’s roof and I’m sure this joint once served as a serial killers hideout. Pit make themselves at home real quick and make a huge impression on this all ages crowd. With their surfer/skate/grunge sound they’re gunna get a lot of Silverchair and Helmet comparisons but at only 17 years of age, these lads have got a huge future. They belt out ‘Don’t Come Running Back’, a song title that gets a few agreeable cat calls from this already healthy crowd. I look down at guitarist/singer Bailey Parker’s pedal board made out of an old skateboard and think that is a fucking sick idea. They finish with a killer cover of ‘Kick Out the Jams’ by MC5, a song that came out before even their parents were born. It’s only early days but with a few more stage miles up their belt, Pit will conquer Australia. Legends.
Another observation I had was - There’s kids here who were born after Turnstile through to old blokes born before Judas Priest. #shinfo
Takoba take to the skate ramp for their third show ever and the future of hardcore is bright in this country. I spotto guitarist Matt Tyrrell from Gosika in their ranks and for all the visceral fury coming from the band, its hard for him to hide the smile on his face. A few two-steppers have a go, but it’s still too early and this isn’t the most even of surfaces to be fucking about in. One kid in the pit tries a bit of crowd killing, trips on a cable cover and eats shit. No one near him. Totally snipered. Laughed at by every onlooker. He picks himself up, flips off the cable cover and exits the pit to brush himself off. With songs about Eating disorders, the stress of dealing with booking agents and something about Phantom Blue Balls (I think that’s what they said), this mob have it all covered. Their energy is killer though and they’ve already garnered a firm following. If they can funnel their rage into a more focussed performance and get more stage time up their collective belts, this lot will be deadly. Keep an eye out for sure.
Pistonfist hit the Malcolm stage (the bigger lower main stage in the centre of the grounds) and from the opening chug these guys sound amazing. Seriously, give the sound guy a raise. I got to see these guys play at the SEQ Tattoo Convention last September and I dug it. This is good ol’ boy southern metal delivered at redneck speed that goes down well with the double-denim crowd. There's a strong focus on men’s mental health in the between song chat which I can get behind, but before the set finishes I run into Chappo from Mountain Wizard Death Cult and he’s beyond excited to be taking on the Tractor Shed stage later today. It’s dangerous when we get together because the two of us won’t shut the fuck up. There's nothing like catching up with your mates and as Pistonfist close up shop we head back to the serial killer house via the bar.
Plague Dweller hit the Tractor shed and their onstage aesthetic suits this stage perfectly. The lead singer is giving off corpse-painted Toecutter from Mad Max vibes. The twin guitar attack has a few guitarists mouthing out “get fucked” in unison, with a few gear heads eyeing off that Jeff Loomis 7-string Jackson getting shredded. They put on a hell of a show with a lot of punters walking away saying “how good were they!” There’s already a few Plague Dweller shirts in the crowd and they’ll sell a few more today for sure.
Looking about the crowd and I see that Flaming Wrekage and Astrodeath are well represented on the t-shirt front as well. They win the “not on the bill” shirt count for today. Some dude who isn’t looking his finest asks me if I want acid, but I politely decline. It’s only early and judging by his condition, it’s probably the brown acid left over from Woodstock. I instead go and spend some hard earned on a Dr. Colossus beanie because Dr Colossus rule and it’s gunna get real chilly, real quick in this serial killer dreamscape.
So, you call your band ARSE do you? Are you any good? Of course you are. With a name like ARSE, you sort of have to be. ARSE take on the smaller Angus stage and are a complete contradiction to the technical wizardry of Plague Dweller. For starters there's a 4 piece drum kit and every piece has had ten shades of shit beaten out of it. Lachie, the percussionist from Mountain Wizard Death Cult is side stage studying the bloke. They have a firm contingent of followers that are all about this three piece, including the frontman from Blood Trails. It’s time to up the merch game though lads, with an “I fuck with ARSE” shirt. You’re welcome.
Smacked Youth are a three piece on the Skate Ramp and two of them wear hats on backwards. They go alright but the highlight is when they invite Pit up onstage to do a cover of ‘Freak’ by Silverchair. The crowd digs it but it’s a bit like all the kids at the adults party took over the karaoke machine and are fighting over the microphone. I turn around to see all the dads at the back reminiscing about doing the same shit at backyard parties in the 90’s.
“This is a song called VB”.
Where’s Jimmy take on the Tractor shed and inform us through song that “Victoria is better because of Victoria Bitter”. If the Big Day Out existed today, the first band I’d put on the bill to destroy the side stage is NSW Central West pub band Where’s Jimmy. Reminds me instantly of Eddy Current Suppression Ring but way more visceral and a hell of a lot more fun. This is what happens when a whole band smokes weed, but it doesn’t take because the ADHD said “not today sir”. The singer was a dancer in a past life. He rips out high kicks, does David Lee Roth level high splits and jumps up on the high barrier fence like it was a step stool. They close out their short set and they don’t wanna leave. Quite frankly, neither do we.
Sydney outfit T-Rex Autopsy get a lot of love on the Angus stage. This high energy outfit are putting on a show that will go down as their best yet. A rising force in the local scene, this progressive mish mash of styles goes over nicely with this packed in crowd. The shout out to anyone who’s got IBS and yelling out “WHERE THE FUCKS THE MILK” gets a huge laugh from the audience, including a few punters yelling out “that’s me” with big grins. Overall a stellar set. Well done lads. Mad dogs.
Rick Dangerous and the Silkie Bantams are the greatest live band of all time ever. They’re also the best dressed and their songs about cocaine and ball-cupping resonate with this crowd for some reason. Buy all their shit. See every show. Live a better life. Bifter have been gaining a firm following, including one Tim Lancken from Astrodeath who camps out front and centre to catch the lads take on the Malcolm stage. I’ve been keen to catch these guys for a while now. They go alright, but there's one dude with a mic walking around on stage aimlessly and into the crowd and while I think it’s weird, there's a lot of dudes with hats on backwards that dig it. Anyways they sound great, their music is sick and while this particular performance isn’t for me in the end, it definitely is for a few others in the crowd.
Hammers get the award for the best dancing guitarist of all time, and now that I’ve said that, I can hear the rest of the band yelling at me to not encourage the bastard. At this stage, people are pacing hurriedly between stages. But there’s a reason that people are lurking out front of the Malcolm stage early. Miruthan emerge onto The Malcolm stage and it’s a hunt for a prime spot by the punters of Thrashville. Legend has it that this mob are an enigmatic group of survivors from a dystopian future overrun by the relentless menace of the undead. What they look like is a five Magic The Gathering nerds with guitars, decked out in full cultish dark age regalia, masks and zombie makeup. They look amazing, sound incredible and I’m sure they’re ticking a few boxes for the kink crowd in attendance. This theatrical performance is a welcomed aesthetic change in the middle of this very busy day. A layered performance, worthy of bigger stages but perfect in todays haunted rustic setting. A cracking set folks.
Go on Slim Krusty. Steal everyone's hearts mate. Armed with a 12 string Maton, a capo and a matching pair of thongs, Victorian farmer Slim Krusty takes to the Angus stage entirely on his own, almost as the complete antithesis of Miruthan. A modern poet and sublime guitarist, Slim mesmerises with his banter and his music. The mood constantly shifts throughout his unplanned performance, that has people in tears, followed soon after by fits of laughter. The constant heckle about Matt Tyrrell’s white Toyota Yaris is perfect and his flawless joke delivery allows the whole audience to be in on the joke, “respectfully”. Summing himself up ever so eloquently, he says “I’m not Dragonforce. I’m a pissed cunt. This is Ghost.” It’s a soul wrenching singalong that a lot of people here know and one you should. A truly heartbreaking, yet uplifting performance by this singular talent. He is a spokesperson for the people. A troubled and endearing presence, Australia’s Tom Waits.
I run into King Parrot frontman Youngy and miss Mudrat as a result, but Jack caught them at the skate ramp and said they were his favourite band of the day. An angered, confronting and energetic performance that brought smiles to faces, as well as a few tears to a few eyes. Sorry I missed it.
The Tractor Shed vibe suits Mountain Wizard Death Cult to the ground. Today marks their first show in six months and they hit the stage like they’ve just been let out of the cage. They’ve spent the last half year writing their next slab of doom with new vocalist Elliot Smith and have been teasing new music in the lead up to today's show. They don’t stuff about, launching straight into new banger ‘Cornered’ and the lads are back, more primal and as tight as they’ve ever been. I’m not alone in thinking that Elliot's addition to this band just over a year ago has been a level up for The Wizzies. I’ve always said that bassist Tony Langton and guitarist Chris ‘Chappo’ Chaplin could be the poster children for ADHD, but alongside Elliot, their energy and performance becomes one huge cohesive. They quickly burn through a potent mix of old and new with ‘Initiation’, ’Wretch’ and ‘Anechoic’ and at this point they couldn’t be more on fire. But then they turn shit up to a Spinal Tap 11 and deliver the heaviest ever cover of ‘Too Many Puppies’ by Primus and damn near blow the unicorn off the roof.
They close out the set with old favourite ‘Putrid Light’ and in doing so cement themselves as one of Australia’s best underground bands. Having only released the occasional single here and there over the years, its gives me great hope that they’re turned up with four new songs all in one hit. With the best line up they’ve ever had and a new arsenal of music, it’s an exciting time to be a Wizzie fan.
Frankenbok are legends of the Australian heavy metal scene and while I’ve been listening to this Bok for a good 25 years, in all its iterations, this is the first time I’ve actually got to witness them live. They come armed with new EP Irrepressible, that was released not long after reuniting with vocalist Adam ‘Hutch’ Glynn. As expected the old stuff goes over better than the new stuff, but its all welcomed nonetheless. ‘Monk Discipline’ will go down as a personal highlight for me and I’m just chuffed I finally got to see the legends. A great set by the lads and I hope to see them again soon.
“We want Chilli Willy” - some dude in the crowd, not Barney Gumble, but maybe just as drunk.
Did I mention that Dr Colossus rule? As one of the coolest bands on the bill with their Simpsons themed doomy excellence I was excited to see them on this lineup. But in the lead up to festivities I may have written somewhere that their last album, the 2021 opus I'm a Stupid Moron With an Ugly Face and A Big Butt and my Butt Smells and I Like to Kiss My Own Butt came out some time ago and it might be time for some new tunes. So I was pretty chuffed when they got up mid-set and said “there was an article in Wall of Sound this week where the author had the audacity to say we hadn’t written any new music in four years. Well that’s because it’s fucking terrible. This is a song called Burn”. A hell of a tune that more than holds its own amongst the likes of ‘Pickabar’, ‘Lard Lad’ and ‘Sixty Six and Six’. At the end of the day, Dr Colossus own. They have a well earned following across this great country and are a must see on any stage and tonight’s performance is proof of that. They’re sexy as hell too. No one wears Stonecutters garbs as good as them. As for the push to hear the new song, you’re welcome! 10/10 Wiggums.
King Parrot are red hot right now. They’ve only recently returned from a European tour in support of Pantera, which included a show at Wembley Arena, have just released their latest incredible opus, A Young Persons Guide To King Parrot, an album that Phil Anselmo himself said is their best album to date, and after this show, the last of their Aussie tour, they’re heading back overseas to conquer America. So tonight we’re seeing KP at their absolute best and with the addition of new drummer Max Dangerfield they’re more visceral and dangerous than ever before. They hit the skate ramp and it’s gunna need a rebuild after this. Gone is the usual Kevin Bloody Wilson intro song ‘Absolute C* of a Day’, now we’re treated to ‘Hot Meat Pies, Saveloys and Trotters’ by Chas & Dave. It’s a humdinger of a tune and maybe a tad less profane than its predecessor. Frontman Youngy cuts through the silliness with a “How the fuck ya doin’“ as the lads kickstart proceedings with one of their earliest tunes ‘The Stench of Hardcore Pub Trash’.
Despite going hard all day, this crowd still have a shitload left in the tank. For some reason there are four large speakers on a riser in front of the stage and with no barrier and no effective security present, it basically serves as an invite for punters to climb up to the stage and jump off. ‘Disgrace Yourself’ leans into new song ‘Get What Ya Given’ and already it’s clear that the new stuff is going over as well as the old. The churning mob on the ground are rabid, already climbing over themselves and the speakers to get near the stage, all while somehow looking out for each other. The rest of the set is a career spanning 13 song best of including old favourites like ‘Piss Wreck’, ‘Shit on the Liver’ and new belter ‘Target Pig Elite’. Closing out with ‘Fuck You and the Horse You Rode In On’ is a firm indication of how great their latest album is, and the Thrashville crowd absolutely froth on it. A stellar set to close out their current Aussie run ahead of their next big jaunt in America. Hate to see you go lads, but love watching you leave.
Stroll to the Malcolm stage to catch a lady do a spot of fire dancing to a Parkway Drive song. Don’t ask me which song though. I’m a little inebriated and all I want right now is one Thrashville’s famous pepperoni pizzas.
The honour of closing festivities goes to Private Function and they do a fine job of it. This also goes down as their final show before trundling off overseas to make a mess of Europe. Everyone piles into he main courtyard, some fighting for a space up the front while a few revellers are happy to set up camp next to the large fire pit up the back. All eyes are on the Victorians as they tear through their very Australian, very high paced set. Bass player Milla Holland has the Palestinian flag hanging from her bass, continuing the support carried over from her ARIA red carpet appearance over 18 months ago, in which she had the words “Free Palestine” written across her face. She’s also wearing a singlet top and it’s way too fucking cold to not be decked out in snow gear right now. Things heat up though as they rip through a 17 song set including some of the best names for a tune ever. Bangers like ‘Jusavinageez’, ‘Sucked In Fuckhead’ and ‘Art Sucks (But Not As Much As You’ get a great reception. ‘Albury Wadonga’ goes over hard, as does ‘I Wish Australia Had Its Guns Again’. A few Boomers ears prick up when they belt out a cover of ‘Breed’ by Nirvana and their song ‘FUCK’ is so good they play it twice.
A brilliant way to end an epic day in this very special part of Australia. The punters all take off in the direction of any one of the many fire pits, some of who are going to feel a bit touched up in the morning. Me, I pick the fire that Chappo and Lachie from Mountain Wizard Death Cult are camped out at while Slim Krusty belts out a few campfire tunes that he said he forgot to do during his set. The young lads form Pit are here as well, taking it all in, absolutely behaving themselves because they’re only 17 and a well mannered bunch of young men. The future of this festival is discussed and one sentiment rings true across the campgrounds.
Thrashville has to continue, and Australia has to get behind it.
Having survived drought, a pandemic, bushfires, floods, and economic turmoil, Thrashville should be in a position where they can now kick back, put on an event, and thrive. Yet here we are, eight years since it inception, struggling to get enough punters through the door to guarantee it’s existence next year.
This event is a dream. You’ve got 23 bands over 12 hours with zero clashes, reasonably priced food and drinks, multiple fire pits and nearby camping in the heart of The Hunter Valley. I don’t understand how this shit doesn’t sell out in a day. They charged a measly $8 for a beer at this, a NSW festival, and it’s not the watered down low-strength swill I’ve paid overs for at footy stadiums and festival grounds across Sydney. Honestly, 8 bucks. That’s half of what the big dogs are charging and they have tens of thousands storming though their gates. Talking about gates, specifically how much it cost to walk through these ones in Lower Belford, this entire day, plus camping, came in at under $100. For the cost of a single ticket at other internationally headlined festivals, you and a mate could walk in the door, split a freshly made pizza, buy a couple of Thrashvile stubby coolers and put a couple of beers in each of the bastards. I’m not saying that you should skip the big international festivals, but why the fuck aren’t you all fighting to be here as well? Some of these bands are international touring bands, and a few more of them definitely will be in the future. People who did attend this year may very well brag about how they saw the likes of Pit and Takoba when they were only just starting out, in the same way so many today have bragged about seeing AC/DC and Parkway Drive at smaller venues back in the day.
We’ve seen large scale, world renowned festivals fall by the wayside in the last couple of years but the heavy community has proudly supported the likes of Good Things and KNOTFEST during this difficult time. We’ve shone when others haven’t. You’re not wasting your time or money putting your collective weight behind the local scene, especially given how incredibly potent it is at the moment.
Thrashville 2025 was a perfect example of just how vibrant, varied and vigorous the Australian heavy music scene has become. But above everything, it’s an absolutely incredible experience.
No cops needed, only three security guards that I saw, all with nothing to do, all who left as clean as a whistle. Plus the campfire gathering after the festival will go down as one of my favourite musical moments of all time. A genuine honour to have witnessed it and be a part of it.
Words by Duane James @duanejamestattoo
