I expected to see Jay's Russian cousin Olaf singing "Berserker" in front of the Granada when I arrived. He was not. Although I was disheartened, the sting didn't last long. There were three bands to come, and each honored the classic heavy metal of my youth. Jona came too. She said one sounded like the power metal she prefers. She wasn't wrong.

The night started with Hellevate. The quintet has been active since the aughts and has swapped a member or two every few years during that run. At this show, the band was fronted by vocalist Robert Browne. He had a gritty sort of spoken growl that aligns with the "big four" icons of '80s thrash. Guitarists Dan Whitmer and Joshua Cole played their part as well. Lots of leads. Some were a bit technical, while others were doubled. The guitarists got a good gallop going during the verses. One played a Jackson and the other an ESP clone. They knew the rules, as did bassist Zach Burke and drummer Ruben Lopez. Lopez specifically understood that drummers are supposed to play topless after the first song. While members have nickname appellations like "Ripper" and "Machine Gun" and "Boss" there were no spooky pseudonyms. Nor was there face paint or leather gauntlets. For that matter, there was no teased hair or spandex either. They were just long-haired guys in band T-shirts and jeans making thrash metal for long-haired guys in band T-shirts and jeans who like thrash metal. Well except for Whitmer – he's a big guy and it's still cold in Kansas, so he was wearing shorts. Like I said, the guys knew the rules. Browne didn't provide much banter. A few well-placed thank-yous, and little else. He moved about the stage with his corded microphone in hand, but there wasn't much postering. There wasn't much posing from the guitarists up front either. Only once did Cole move across the stage to share a lead with Whitmer, and I don't think he put a leg up on a monitor even once. Absolutely no one waggled a tongue at the audience. And yet the audience was appreciative. Most had come for the touring acts and were receiving their first introduction to this local mainstay. I listened as one extolled the group, despite having "obvious influences." It's true, but we all have obvious influences, and when we share them, then that's a scene. And Hellevate have been a pillar of our metal scene for twenty years.

It's interesting that a local act was on the bill at all. Often packaged tours like this one (dubbed "Battle Bands North American Tour 2025 Round II" by the way) need to have everything choreographed with no room for surprises or variances. As a result, locals are often (and unfortunately) shut out. Thankfully this wasn't the case at The Granada. In fact, this tour lacked most of the trappings of large, packaged tours. Most importantly, there was no barricade between the performers and their fans. Music fans can all attest that the difference between being twelve feet away from the band and two feet away is immense. This show invited everyone to the front.

North Carolina's Aether Realm continued the night, and they too showed a love for classic heavy metal. Same T-shirts. Same jeans. Same aggressive guitar solos. But this band didn't color with thrash. Instead, its primary language was melodic death metal with touches of lithe folk melodies from Norse and Celtic traditions and even a sea shanty or two, created by a quartet that lined up as Vincent Jones (vocals/bass), Heinrich Yoshio and Donny Burbage (guitars), and Tyler Gresham (drums). Throughout its set, this foursome swung tempos wildly from moments of blistering mosh ("Swampwitch") to tender ballads ("Guardian"). Jones transformed his vocals from growls to clean croons accordingly. Guitar leads often sang the melody alongside Jones, while strident solos colored by whammy bars joined in the epic choruses. Backing tracks provided synths as well as some of the traditional folk elements, with bits of fiddle, tin whistle, and bagpipes all making ghostly appearances. At first, I wondered if magical guitar pedals were creating the unexpected tones, before deciding that the guitars were often just doubling a backing track. I suspect the budget simply didn't allow for a touring piper. But what the band lacked in utility players it made up for in banter. Jones' crowd work treaded the line between showman and shill expertly, drawing in the audience and providing just enough spectacle. No rules were broken.

To prepare for the headliner, we must have a quick geography lesson. The Faroe Islands are an island chain midway between Scotland and Iceland. It's an autonomous territory of Denmark, but don't tell Trump. It's smaller than Phoenix with about one-thirtieth of the population. It's also the birthplace of headliners Tyr. The project dates to the late '90s when it blended Viking and folk metal with more progressive and power metal elements. It's that power metal element that continued the night's heavy metal throughline. But Tyr are a different sort of group than its openers. The hair was still long, but instead of jeans, the quartet wore leather pants. There were band T-shirts, but they were their own Tyr T-shirts. Maybe that's not a rule in the Faroes.

Tyr opened with "By the Sword in My Hand." It was a literal and figurative battle cry that activated the room. Hundreds joined the band for the rousing chorus, lifting their (invisible) swords high with learned choreography. "Axes" followed continuing the theme. Later came "Hammered" and "Hail to the Hammer." For those, the audience held up tiny hammers. I think you have the picture now. Vocalist/guitarist Heri Joensen's powerful vocals were clean with just a hint of growl. He generally sang in English though both Faroese ("Ragnars Kvæði") and Norwegian ("Regin Smiður") were used for the songs that drew heavily from Nordic folklore. His guitar solos were melodic, folk-infused, and often aided by an EBow sustainer that provided a haunting atmosphere. This left guitarist Hans Hammer to deliver the heavy metal leads, replete with finger taps and dive bombs. Bassist Gunnar H. Thomsen was assured and jolly, smiling broadly, moving about the stage, raising his arms to lift the crowd, and providing plenty of backing vocals. That's key, as robust backing vocals on epic choruses are the band's calling card. They may have been bolstered by some backing track trickery, but their performances sounded strong and felt organic. Even drummer Tadeusz Rieckmann tried to join in from his riser at the back of the stage, despite not having a microphone. When not standing to sing, his playing varied from superhuman blast beats to primal, heartbeat percussion that accented the foursome's near-a cappella compositions.

The end of the set was a fury of songs about dragon slaying, warriors, and (again) hammers. The audience cheered for an encore – which it got – and then cheered again in hopes of a second. However, when the group returned the second time, it was only to get a picture with the audience – something all three acts made sure to capture. After holding our fists up for the camera, we all filed out of the theater, tired and smiling.

Even without Olaf and his "Berserker" the night turned out well. The bands were just silly enough to be escapist fun, their songs were grounded just enough to appeal to all fans of classic heavy metal, and their performances epic enough to whip the audience into a battle-ready fist-pumping frenzy. And to think, all that magic on a Monday night in Kansas. Man, I love metal.