6.45pm: a dark rainswept Brixton academy is surrounded by hordes of rabid metal fans. They are all gathered here tonight to experience the unholy clatter of Man Must Die, Bleeding Through, Hatebreed and most rabidly of all, Machine Head.
Indeed, within one of the longest queues in existence occasional snatches of ''Machine F**king Head!'', ''Breeed!'' and even a ''Slayaargh!'' or two can be heard by bemused bystanders.
A not very short while later, those not (once again) queueing for bandshirts or beer are sampling the delights of the Glaswegian technical death metal band Man Must Die, who present an ear catching set filled with some witty banter and a rather memorable 'Kill it, Skin it, Wear it' to finish. Their presence at Hammerfest will be much appreciated by those drunkenly present.
Bleeding Through are tight and technical. Their energetic approach can be embodied by the scarlet haired headbanging keyboardist who wholeheartedly throws herself into the songs (and almost straight into the keyboard). The Orange County hardcore band get many an approving headnod from the steadily growing audience.
The sloping floor of the beautifully furnished Brixton O2 Academy soon shows its value as the room begins to fill in earnest. It feels as if everyone is in the third row when the Hatebreed banner drops and Jamey Jasta bounds onto the stage. Moshpits erupt, fists and feet flail for the entire set as Jasta bulldozes through anthem after anthem. He has the entire room screaming 'Live for something or die for nothing!' during Live for This and Defeatist is shouted word for word by the diehards and fanatics. Jasta pauses to thank London with genuine emotion, his gravelly voice cracking a little as he reminisces the birth of the Black Procession tour when he and Rob Flynn of Machine Head discussed a European tour. He thanks the fans and promises to return again in October for more madness and Hatebreed leave the stage.
Suddenly the room is packed. The bars begin to empty and people squeeze into what is now a sardine can crowd. Condom balloons punctuate the wait and airborne beercups spray the restless audience. Chants of 'Machine F**king Head' are thrown at the veiled stage as roadies scuttle behind the curtains until the lights dim, the curtain drops and all hell breaks loose.
5000 people scream with Vesuvian rapture, several people scrabble for earplugs and a leather clad fan claps his hands to his ears in an act of aural agony. Several incredibly loud minutes later, Flynn draws a deep breath and says 'Wow London. Tonight the louder you get, the louder we get'. It got loud. Very loud.
Flynn roars, screams and growls through classics such as Halo, Davidian and even a few rarities including the live premiere of All Falls Down. A small slip up by Flynn at the beginning of Aesthetics of Hate does not stem the flow of bloodied moshers limping out of the pit nor the mass of crowdsurfers ignoring the 'no crowdsurfing sign'.
Machine Head are loved and lauded by the entire venue, to sound cliche but entirely accurate, the air is electric. Everyone knows the words and everyone sings along. Machine Head are a musical treasure and will remain so.
Two hours and many damaged eardrums later, I emerge beer eyed, bloody eared and most definitely with my moneys worth.