(((O))) Live: Svalbard – Oslo Hackney

“If I could bottle the atmosphere in here tonight,” states Serena, looking out flabbergasted at the ranks of loving fans, “I’d never be depressed again!” And it’s certainly difficult to overstate how excited the 300+ audience is tonight – excited and bursting with energy. But both band and crowd radiate love for each other tonight: a kind of reciprocal mise en abyme. Somehow the audience seems to express their shared love for the band in an unapologetically and unabashed manner, reflecting Serena’s direct, authentic, and warmth. And we are her crowd.  

We all know it’s the last time we’ll see Svalbard play in London; for many, it’ll be the last time ever. So that energy yields plenty of real tears, a whole lot of raw, unashamed love for Svalbard, and of course some of the most wildly enthusiastic moshing I’ve ever seen.  

But first: we’re also here for Cage Fight’s Rachel Aspe, too, of course; the whole band absolutely capturing the energy of the entire crowd from the outset. They sound like a band used to playing very loud on massive stages, and every juddering chord seems to roll through the room. It’s tight, it’s slamming, it’s thrash and slam and chuggy hardcore, and it’s catchy as hell.  

(Does it always sound this good in here? I message my friend who reminds me that, while he’s not actually at the gig, the sound at Oslo is indeed usually this good.) 

I must be the only person in the room who doesn’t know these guys, as the pit whirls, heads bang, shoulders loosen, arms start moving, feet start tapping. Rachel is a domineering presence, reaching long, heavily tattooed arms out into the crowd, swooping from one side of the stage to the other, spitting and growling.  

Their song ‘Pig’ stands out to me, with its slam-appropriate title, bowel-worrying gutturals, massive breakdown, and weirdly-bit-crushed- bovine samples. Having whipped up festival-levels of pit action, Cage Fight pave the way for tonight’s bittersweet finale. 

Svalbard‘s first London show was at the Bird’s Nest, Deptford, 15 years ago to “about eight people”, according to the band. While I unfortunately didn’t catch that show, I have seen them several times in the last six years: with Boris for a Chaos Theory show in 2019; at Beyond the Redshift in 2023; supporting Enslaved, and Alcest, in 2024; and headlining Chaos Theory’s annual bash in 2025. There must be others. And I’ve felt myself getting more into their music, and enjoying their shows just that little bit more each time. 

There is quite a lot of Alcest in Svalbard; I’m not sure how I managed to go without acknowledging it when I reviewed the show they did together. The rising, angelic vocals of Serena, the lead melodies, that high shimmering feeling at points. But they’re much more hardcore leaning than their ethereal French friends – as the folks doing the windmill dance and getting ready to mosh before Serena and co. hit the stage attest to.

Serena is sure right about the energy in here tonight. It feels like something special; not just another gig. The band are clearly emotional before they start each song, and each song seems to land with extra gravitas. Tonight’s set list includes all the favourites we’ve come to expect – ‘Open Wound’, ‘Lights Out’, ‘Faking It’ – as well as some cheeky rarities like ‘Grayscale’ and their final release, ‘If We Could Still Be Saved’. We’ve heard most of these songs performed a lot, but not quite like this. Serena cries for the first time before and during ‘Open Wound’, moving away from the mic at times, to compose herself.  

That guy is in the middle of the pit again. You know the guy. Serena gave him a shout out the Underworld last year for a Chaos Theory show. If you go to gigs in London you’ll have seen him – the epicentre of the scene and pit – glasses, tight blue battle denim, leather gloves, – orchestrating the pit. And always respecting the vibe of the band: at one stage he’s prowling the perimeter of a push pit, only to swerve into a circle pit at Serena’s call, ensuring the other guys in the pit know the deal. 

Serena addresses the reasons for the band splitting, saying that it’s best to end “with friendships and love” rather than turn out like “bands who hate each other 30 years on.” “System of a Down!” someone shouts, to much amusement. Better to burn out than fade away, I guess, even if Svalbard’s fire remains undiminished.  

It’s very clear that friendship and love remain the room tonight, and not just between our headliners: you can feel it, especially during the raucous encore of ‘Grayscale’. No one seems to believe that the final massive note has finally faded. . .

With a bit of luck, I’ll catch Svalbard for a final time at ArcTanGent festival in August. But they’re a band born from playing intimate, sweaty shows, and I’m glad I got to experience them that particular way for the last time.