Amenra @Schlachthof, Bremen

There are bands you watch, and bands you feel. Amenra have long belonged to the latter category, and in Bremen they once again made it abundantly clear that going all in with your heart and soul is the point.

The Schlachthof was packed, close to sold out. From the first moments it felt like a congregation waiting for the officiant to arrive. When the lights finally collapsed into near-total blackness and the low-frequency hum crept across the room, conversation died instantly. No announcement. No greeting. Only pressure.

Amenra opened not with drama, but with weight. The opening songunfolded slowly, almost reluctantly, as if dragged into the room against its will. The sound was oppressive rather than loud: bass frequencies blooming in the chest, guitars tuned low enough to feel geological. The mix was thick and powerful. This was not a night for precision; it was a night for immersion.

Colin H. van Eeckhout remained largely obscured, half-swallowed by smoke and backlight, a silhouette more than a frontman. His presence was severe, inward, and punishing. When his voice finally cut through, it landed with ritual force. There was no attempt to “work” the crowd. No eye contact. No acknowledgement. Amenra do not perform for you; they perform through you.

Visually, the band leaned heavily on their now-familiar monochrome projections: grainy, high-contrast imagery flickering like damaged film stock. he restraint worked in their favour. Any more would have diluted the intensity; any less would have felt evasive.

Mid-set highlights came with older material, where the dynamics felt especially cruel. Long stretches of near-stasis suddenly ruptured by blasts of violence, only to collapse again into oppressive calm. These shifts were handled with total confidence. Amenra understand timing in a way few bands do, but not in terms of crowd response, but in terms of psychological pressure. They let discomfort linger far longer than is polite.

The closing piece: A slow, inexorable build, Colin’s voice tearing itself raw, the band locked into a crushing, funereal march. When the final note finally decayed into silence, there was no triumphant release, only total entanglement in the mood. The band left the stage without ceremony, the lights staying low.

In Bremen, Amenra did not reinvent themselves, nor did they need to. This was a reaffirmation: of their ethos, their discipline, and their refusal to offer comfort. It was heavy without bravado, bleak without theatricality, and punishing without spectacle.

Here’s an impression of Amenras live performance in 2025: