Acid Bath’s Resurrection at the Palladium

8/25/2025 - Hollywood Palladium - Los Angeles, California.

Acid Bath’s Resurrection at the Palladium

Last month, Acid Bath made their long-awaited return and it was worth every year of silence. Outside the Hollywood Palladium, fans lined up hours early for the best spot on the floor. Since their debut When the Kite String Pops,

Acid Bath has held a cult-like grip on the underground, often credited as pioneers of sludge metal — that grim alchemy of death metal, blues, grunge, and slow-burning riffs that crawl under the skin.

Windhand

The night began with Virginia’s doom merchants Windhand, who opened with “Old Evil,” a track so heavy it seemed to rattle the venue’s core.

Their set spiraled deeper into the abyss ending with “Cassock,” its dragging, hypnotic weight leaving the audience swaying like they’d been caught in a sonic undertow.

If this was just the beginning, the rest of the night promised to be a descent into shadow.

Next came California’s own High On Fire, who wasted no time with gentle introductions. They ripped straight into “Burning Down,” with founder Matt Pike’s serrated vocals cutting through the Palladium like a warning.

The chaos was relentless — drummer Coady Willis and bassist Jeff Matz hammering the crowd with pulse and fury.

“Rumors of War” and “Fury Whip” sealed the deal: this was no sweet symphony, but pure molten energy.

And then, the moment Los Angeles had been waiting decades for. Acid Bath. As the house lights dimmed, anticipation curdled into something ritualistic. Fans had flown in from as far as North Carolina and Georgia just to stand in this room, and as showtime drew near, the floor tightened into a single collective heartbeat.

The band teased their entrance by blasting Ozzy’s “Black Sabbath” through the speakers — a nod to the Prince of Darkness that bled seamlessly into “Tranquilized.”

From the first note, it was obvious: Acid Bath wasn’t here to prove themselves. They were here to remind us. The sound was raw, massive, and faithful to the records — vocals, drums, and guitars crashing together with unrelenting force.

They tore through fan obsessions like “The Bones of Baby Dolls,” “New Death Sensation,” and “Scream of the Butterfly.” Some fans swayed in a dark trance, others lit up the pits in violent communion. Either way, the room was possessed.

The night closed with “Dr. Seuss Is Dead,” crushing and cathartic, leaving the Palladium drenched in the heaviness of what had just happened.