Carnifex, Suffocation

Jul 7

Written By Luke

With Devourment, Distant, and Bodybox

ST. PETERSBURG, FL | JANNUS LIVE | 07.01.2025

Slam, Sweat and Sunshine

If you’re ever in doubt about Florida’s contributions to modern society, let me offer you this: Bodybox.

Imagine a Waffle House parking lot at 2 a.m. turned sentient. Jean shorts below the knee, wife beaters, and riffs thicker than a gas station crock pot of boiled peanuts. Bodybox doesn’t just play slam—they embody it. This is white trash nu-slam metal in its most devolved form. Beatdown grooves, guttural vocals, and enough bass to rattle that last tooth out of your uncle’s mouth.

Distant followed, dragging a cloud of slick, polished deathcore behind them. Slower tempos, tighter production, but the same bloodthirsty precision. It’s the kind of music that doesn’t hit you all at once—it creeps in, coils around your spine, and waits for the drop.

Then came Devourment. Slam royalty. The goddamn combat boot on the throat of subtlety. There is no nuance. No grace. Just meat-grinder riffs and vocals that sound like a garbage disposal chewing through cartilege. It’s vulgar. It’s bludgeoning. It’s perfect.

When Suffocation hit the stage, the mood shifted. The chaos had been loud before, but this was something else—more focused, more seasoned, more intentional. Enter Terrance Hobbs, riff lord, warlock-wielding high priest of technical brutality. The man doesn’t just play guitar—he sculpts blunt-force trauma into riffs, flinging each one like a brick in your face.

Each song was another reminder: Suffocation doesn’t follow trends—they create them. They laid the foundation. And yet, even now, they remain ahead of the curve. Not chasing relevance but defining it. Hobbs, flanked by a lineup that feels tighter than ever, guides the band with a surgeon’s precision and a demolitionist’s soul.

In a world of ever-shifting subgenres and gimmicks, Suffocation remains a monolith—uncompromising, untouchable, and eternally brutal.

Carnifex closed the night, a deathcore staple that pulled us straight back into the 2010s. Bleak atmospheres, breakdowns that felt like tectonic shifts, and just enough edge to slice through the nostalgia.

This lineup is proof that death metal and deathcore—once sneered at by each other—can coexist. Can thrive. Can mosh side by side on a Florida afternoon.