Photo Credit: Nel Cummings
Words: Kayla Kerridge
By the time I hit the stairs at Deaf Institute on January 23rd, the place was already humming, almost like the walls themselves were anxious for the night to start. Coats everywhere, pints sweating on every surface, and that unmistakable charge in the air when a crowd knows it’s about to get something real. You could just tell: nobody stumbled in by mistake. Everyone wanted to be here.
Paradise Fell didn’t waste a second. No gentle warm-up, they just grabbed the room and shook it awake. The first notes sliced right through the chatter, conversations dying mid-word. Live, they play with contrast in a way that feels cinematic, clean, open stretches, then those sudden, heavy drops that you feel in your chest. The vocals hovered right on top, switching from tight control to something raw, all without slipping. Never showy, just precise.
What really got me was their sense of build. Each song didn’t just start and stop; it carried over some piece of the last tempo, tension, attitude, until suddenly everyone was moving. Nods turned to swaying, then the front row surged forward, like they’d all been waiting for the same signal. Paradise Fell never overdid it. They knew when to let a chorus breathe, when to dig into a groove and just ride. When they finished, nobody clapped out of politeness. People wanted more. They’d nailed it.
Then there’s that weird, electric silence before a headliner walks out. Deaf Institute found it. Lights down, voices dropping off, the whole room pulling in like it was holding its breath. The Hara took their time. Just a pulse through the speakers, shadows moving into place. Then the first hit landed, and suddenly everyone exhaled.
The Hara live are all about that push and pull, tension and release. From the get-go, they made it clear. Thick, dark riffs rolled through, bass twisting underneath, drums snapping the whole thing into focus. The vocals cut with this mix of swagger and vulnerability, confident but not cold, emotional without veering into drama. It’s a tough balance, and they made it look easy.
What jumped out right away: they were totally in sync. Quick glances, half-smiles at perfect stops, those little moments that show a band’s really locked in. Deaf Institute’s cozy setup just made it stronger. No separation, band and crowd in the same sweaty, noisy, determined space. Every chorus got thrown back at the stage, louder than before, the whole place echoing.
Halfway through, they shifted gears. The Hara slipped into something moodier, slowing things down, letting the atmosphere get heavier. Lights cooled off, tempos dropped, and suddenly people weren’t just moving,they were feeling it, deep. Eyes closed, jaws tight, everyone lost in it. Then, just when it started getting a bit too inward, they flipped it again. Bigger hooks, sharper riffs, the kind of songs that pull your arms in the air, even if you didn’t mean to.
The frontman’s charisma was obvious, but it never felt like he was showing off. Everything felt honest, a joke about the heat, a thank you that sounded like he meant it, a second to soak up the noise before kicking off the next track. It all felt shared, not staged. The crowd fed off it, giving back twice as much.
As the end closed in, they cranked things up again. Drums hit harder, guitars got even bigger, and the entire room moved as one, no individuals, just collective chaos. Sweat dripped from the ceiling, the floor literally bounced. It stopped being a gig and started feeling like you were inside the music.
The encore wasn’t just expected, it was needed. When The Hara came back, the place exploded. They finished with a song that just hung there, the last chord stretching out, nobody quite ready to let go. When the lights finally came up, everyone looked a little stunned, grinning and dazed, that feeling that only comes after a show that actually delivers.
Outside, nobody wanted to leave. People lingered, replaying moments, humming riffs, trying to hold onto even a scrap of the night. Paradise Fell set it up, The Hara knocked it out of the park, and Deaf Institute reminded everyone why it’s the perfect spot for nights like this. This wasn’t just another show. It’s the one you’ll compare the rest to.
Taped Magazine 