A Supersonic Slab
I have long admired Supersonic Festival from afar. A few of the individual gigs that Supersonic have put on around Birmingham have become some of my fondest live music memories: I’ll never forget seeing Richard Dawson performing a full-band version of his 41-minute psych-folk epic ‘The Hermit’ at the Royal Birmingham Conservatoire, and the Deerhoof gig last year was life-affirmingly joyful (even by their standards). And yet – for a variety of reasons – I’d missed out on the main festival itself until just this year.
Did I have a bit of apprehension going into the 2026 iteration? Supersonic’s update earlier this year, in which they outlined the effect that Digbeth’s ongoing development has had on the running of the festival, made me slightly worried that I’d perhaps missed out on their “golden age” as news followed about them downsizing from three days to two, and focusing on a single venue for live performances. As it happened though, I clearly had nothing to worry about. On the contrary – a regular attendee I spoke to on the Sunday said that, in his opinion, this had been one of the strongest years. The tighter focus lent Supersonic 2026 a sense of the defiant excitement that had defined the festival when it was still figuring itself out in the early days.
I can certainly vouch for the excitement in the air. The inaugural set of the weekend, by MMM, opened proceedings with a brilliant synthesis of everything that would come to follow: atmospheric drone opening out into sprawling rural psychedelia and a final explosion of doomy sludge metal. A spit in the face of risk aversion, the line-up also included bands who were making their debut live performances. Stoner metal trio Bong II, bathing the audience in thick distortion and layers of vocal loops all held together by a drummer who could change the emotional trajectory of the music with a single snare hit; and Microplastics effortlessly shapeshifting through post-hardcore and experimental electronics.
Did I have a bit of apprehension going into the 2026 iteration? Supersonic’s update earlier this year, in which they outlined the effect that Digbeth’s ongoing development has had on the running of the festival, made me slightly worried that I’d perhaps missed out on their “golden age” as news followed about them downsizing from three days to two, and focusing on a single venue for live performances. As it happened though, I clearly had nothing to worry about. On the contrary – a regular attendee I spoke to on the Sunday said that, in his opinion, this had been one of the strongest years. The tighter focus lent Supersonic 2026 a sense of the defiant excitement that had defined the festival when it was still figuring itself out in the early days.
I can certainly vouch for the excitement in the air. The inaugural set of the weekend, by MMM, opened proceedings with a brilliant synthesis of everything that would come to follow: atmospheric drone opening out into sprawling rural psychedelia and a final explosion of doomy sludge metal. A spit in the face of risk aversion, the line-up also included bands who were making their debut live performances. Stoner metal trio Bong II, bathing the audience in thick distortion and layers of vocal loops all held together by a drummer who could change the emotional trajectory of the music with a single snare hit; and Microplastics effortlessly shapeshifting through post-hardcore and experimental electronics.
My personal highlight of the weekend, however, was Milkweed’s performance on the Saturday. I was already familiar with a few of their releases – self-described “slacker folk” inventively blending folklore tradition with elements of experimental hip-hop and “hauntological” electronic music – but live they were something else completely, and a real revelation. Entering the venue to see the four musicians modestly seated at a small table, I could never have predicted the spectacle that would follow. A dramatic reading of tales from Irish mythology, accompanied by music that would weave effortlessly from improvisational chaos to subdued beauty whenever the narrative needed it to, all delivered with a sense of DIY theatricality (confetti being cut live on stage, and even a triumphant death scene) that had me reeling for the rest of the night.
This doesn’t even scratch the surface of what else was on offer within the four walls of The Crossing in Digbeth, and outside of it with the marketplace in Zellig, and the Freak Zone Pub Quiz at the Old Crown. The smaller sets in the Crossing’s canteen from the likes of Thorn Wych, Monoxide Brothers, and Peiriant all felt like they could have worked just as well on the larger stage – bringing the same spirit of thrilling, playful experimentation to every last corner of the venue. And walking home after the blistering closing set from Prostitute (my legs were too tired for the afterparty, sorry – I’m not as young as I once was), I was filled with appreciation for how Supersonic, like so many of their peers within Birmingham’s defiant independent culture scene (Flatpack, Whatever Pays the Rent, this very publication, and no doubt several other things I don’t even know about yet), is willing to do whatever it takes to make this city a welcome home for truly exciting, forward-thinking, radical creativity.
Footnotes
James Cresswell also releases music under the name Mute Branches. Listen here!
The Supersonic festivities don’t stop at the festival! Their next gig, featuring One Leg One Eye, is on the 18th of June. Get tickets here, or find out their other future gigs!