THE FRONT ROW

There was a tangible weight to the atmosphere on Tuesday night, not just the thick heat of a sold-out crowd but the emotional heft of finality. With The Leadmill set to close its doors for good at the end of June, every gig in its final week has carried the burden of goodbye. And few bands were better placed to honour the old venue than Twin Atlantic, who brought with them a sense of purpose, nostalgia, and no-holds-barred celebration.

First up were Jetski, Sheffield’s own, who treated this opening slot as a full-circle moment. This wasn’t just another hometown show; frontman Charles Fitzgerald told the crowd how the Leadmill dancefloor is where his parents first met, a detail that made the already poignant atmosphere cut even deeper. Musically, they were tighter than ever, channelling the energy of their 2024 LP Loose Ends and The Four Before EP into a thunderous hometown set. There was pride in every note and gratitude in every glance. For a band on the rise, this was a nod to the foundations beneath them.

Then came Dead Pony, and with them, a bomb blast of pure adrenaline. They stormed through a set that included MK Nothing, Freak Like Me, RAINBOWS, Everything Burns, COBRA, and MANA, each one a gut-punch of cathartic, alt-rock rage. This is a band that doesn’t mess about — every second of their set was a call to arms, a primal scream against complacency. They stomped, screamed, and surged like the venue itself depended on it. In many ways, it did.

The scale of Dead Pony’s set can’t be overstated, it was a pivotal, main-stage-worthy performance that felt like a headline moment in its own right. Vocalist Anna Shields was magnetic, snarling and dancing with fearless intensity, commanding the room like she owned every inch of it. The crowd responded in kind: mosh pits broke out, voices roared back lyrics, and at points it felt like the entire floor might cave in under the weight of the noise. There was a feral joy to it all, a catharsis laced with chaos. This wasn’t just support-band fire, this was a “remember where you were” set. And we will.

But when Twin Atlantic finally took the stage, the crowd erupted.From the opening notes of Salvation, it was clear that this night was going to live long in the memory.

Sam McTrusty, charismatic and clearly emotional, made it his mission to squeeze every last drop from the night. “Normally I’d save all this phone-light waving and arm-swaying shit for big festival sets,” he grinned, “but if there was ever a night to be that guy, it’s tonight — for this old girl.” And with that, The Leadmill became a cathedral, phones raised like lighters, a thousand arms moving as one.

They powered through No Sleep and Hold On with the ferocity of a band ten years younger, then shifted gears for a pounding Get Out and a feral Valhalla. Make a Beast of Myself brought the first of many singalongs, and Yes, I Was Drunk, dedicated to Jetski, felt like a personal note passed from one band to another.

Mid-set, the anthemic Free landed with the same punch it had over a decade ago. And the newer material, including World Class Entertainment, Get Famous, and Meltdown, proved that Twin Atlantic aren’t coasting, they’re evolving, still hitting with impact.

McTrusty, never one to shy away from sentiment when it matters, kept urging the crowd to make it count. “We said we want to take the roof off this place,” he yelled before The Chaser. “You won’t get this again.” Every interaction, every cue, every cliché he typically avoids, he leaned into it all. Not for ego. For The Leadmill.

As the band dropped into Crash Land, the tone shifted. It was tender, stripped-back, lit by soft phone glows, a moment of pause amidst the chaos. I Couldn’t Miss You Much More, dedicated to Dead Pony, followed in the same breath, before Barcelona brought things surging back to life.

And then came the final duo: Brothers & Sisters roared out like a mission statement, a love letter to community. And Heart and Soul… well, if you know Twin Atlantic, you know what that means. It was arms-in-the-air, scream-every-word catharsis. The Leadmill answered back at full volume.

This was the twelfth time I’ve seen Twin Atlantic. They’ve been slicker, they’ve been louder. But never, ever better. There was an urgency in every song, a recognition that this night wasn’t about perfection, it was about making it unforgettable.

And unforgettable it was. From heartfelt dedications to full-pelt rock fury, from local roots to international reach, this was everything a send-off show should be. The Leadmill might be closing, but on nights like this, it’s immortal. Arms were raised, voices hoarse, faces tear-streaked or smiling. Twin Atlantic didn’t just play The Leadmill one last time. They made it matter.