By the time they reached "Kai Tangata", the room had fully surrendered. The once-cautious crowd had transformed into a storm of bodies, fists in the air, and voices raised in chants they may not have understood but they felt them.

This is why Kerry King chose them as his opener. Not because they play it safe. Not because they fit a mold. But because they embody what metal is meant to be: feral, fearless, and unapologetically powerful.

Some bands open a show. ALIEN WEAPONRY ignited it.
Not everyone knew their name walking in, but after that performance?
They won't forget it.

As the dust settled from ALIEN WEAPONRY's war cry, the wasteland was far from safe. If their set was the battle, what came next was the fallout a toxic, beer-soaked, speed-fueled thrash apocalypse.

MUNICIPAL WASTE stormed the Buckhead Theatre stage like a gang of radioactive mutants, drenching the crowd in nuclear green light as they ignited the next phase of destruction. The air smelled of sweat, spilled beer, and pure crossover thrash fury. This wasn't just a concert-it was a sonic disaster zone, and the only way to survive was to throw yourself headfirst into the chaos.

MUNICIPAL WASTE doesn't just play thrash they detonate it like an old barrel of toxic sludge ready to burst. The first chugging riffs of "Garbage Stomp" hit like a rusted-out wrecking ball, and before the crowd even had a chance to catch their breath, they were thrown into "Sadistic Magician". The circle pit exploded like an industrial accident, sending bodies crashing into one another, limbs flailing, heads banging.

The eerie, radioactive green glow onstage wasn't just for show, it matched the band's hazardous energy. This was thrash at its most feral, its most reckless. Tony Foresta led the charge like a crazed wasteland cult leader, barking orders into the mic while Ryan Waste wielded his white MUNICIPAL WASTE-logo guitar like a battle weapon, carving through riffs with absolute precision. Nick Poulos tore through lead parts like they were coated in toxic sludge, while Philip "LandPhil" Hall's punishing basslines and Dave Witte's relentless drumming pushed everything past the redline.

Tracks like "Slime And Punishment", "Breathe Grease" and "Poison The Preacher" hit relentlessly, each one accelerating the madness. The pit didn't slow down, it only mutated, growing wilder, faster, more unhinged. By the time, the band tore into "Wave of Death", the entire venue felt like it was caving in. The pit had reached maximum velocity, bodies colliding like shrapnel in a storm of sweat and adrenaline. And then-darkness. At one point, the band ordered the lighting engineers to kill the strobes because they needed to see the wreckage they had created. The dim glow of the venue's emergency lights cast eerie shadows over the pit, revealing a battlefield of broken bodies and unrelenting thrashers who refused to back down.

Between the chaos, Foresta took a moment to scan the destruction, grinning before stepping up to the mic. "I gotta give a shoutout to the ladies. I see you out there!" The crowd roared in response, and the energy somehow found another level. This was more than just a thrash show-it was a full-on nuclear meltdown with everyone involved.

Yet, even in all this destruction, MUNICIPAL WASTE never forgets to party. Between songs, they raised a beer-soaked toast to their guitar tech, D.B., for his birthday, proving that even as they burn everything to the ground, they'll still take a moment to celebrate absolute debauchery.

For over two decades, MUNICIPAL WASTE has been spreading their thrash contagion, and their Buckhead Theatre takeover was a brutal reminder of why they remain one of the most unrelenting forces in the genre. Their lineup remains a tight-knit thrash machine, with Tony Foresta as the chaotic ringleader, Ryan Waste and Nick Poulos delivering razor-sharp riffage, Philip "LandPhil" Hall rumbling on bass with punishing low-end fury, and Dave Witte behind the kit, drumming with the precision of a nuclear warhead detonator.

No MUNICIPAL WASTE show is complete without a final, beer-drenched anthem. As the first notes of "Born To Party" rang out, the Buckhead Theatre erupted into one last, glorious frenzy fists in the air, voices screaming along, bodies still diving into the pit, despite already being bruised and broken. By the time the last note rang out, the venue looked like a wasteland: sweat-drenched, beer-soaked, and utterly contaminated. With Kerry King up next, MUNICIPAL WASTE had already scorched the earth.

Their message was clear:
"MUNICIPAL WASTE IS GONNA F* YOU UP."

Setlist:

• "Garbage Stomp"
• "Sadistic Magician"
• "Slime and Punishment"
• "Breathe Grease"
• "Grave Dive"
• "You're Cut Off"
• "The Thrashin' of the Christ"
• "Poison the Preacher"
• "Wave of Death"
• "High Speed Steel"
• "Restless and Wicked"
• "Pre-Game"
• "The Art of Partying"
• "Demoralizer"
• "Born to Party"

Were you really even there?
One thing is for sure:
Atlanta has officially been contaminated.
THRASH. NEVER. DIES.
KERRY. FUCKING. KING.

The wasteland left behind by MUNICIPAL WASTE still reeked of sweat, beer, and unfiltered thrash chaos, but something darker was creeping in. The energy had shifted. The pit wasn't just violent, it was restless, like the crowd could sense what was coming next. The inferno gates had been opened.

The lights went black.

For a few agonizing seconds, the only sound was the distant hum of amplifiers waiting to explode. Then, a chilling, almost ritualistic sound crawled out from the void "Diablo". The ominous intro tape slithered through the venue, its low, droning tones filling every dark corner of the room. The blood-red glow of the inverted crosses returned, now pulsating, casting long, eerie shadows across the stage. They flickered, almost alive, as if they were breathing with the music, marking the moment when Atlanta was no longer standing on safe ground.

Then detonation.

The KK logo burned between them, and without a second of hesitation, Kerry Fucking King stormed the stage, tearing straight into "Where I Reign". The chainsaw riffs ripped through the venue like a steel blade through flesh, and the room erupted.

This wasn't just thrash, this was war.

King's guitar tone was razor-sharp, each note delivered with surgical precision and murderous intent. His solos weren't just fast, they were eerie, haunting, unsettling, the kind of leads that sounded like they were being played from inside the abyss. Every bend shrieked, every dive bomb felt like a sonic descent into madness, every pick scrape clawed against your ears. It wasn't just speed-it was pure evil made audible.

Backing him was a wrecking crew built for destruction. Paul Bostaph was a relentless machine on drums, every kick a gunshot, every fill a landslide. Phil Demmel shredded with a precision that felt more like a surgical strike than a guitar performance, while Mark Osegueda (DEATH ANGEL) roared into the mic with the fury of a mad preacher summoning the damned. Holding it all down, Kyle Sanders (HELLYEAH) let his basslines quake through the floor, anchoring the assault.

The setlist was nothing short of merciless. King pulled no punches, delivering a devastating mix of From Hell I Rise brutality and SLAYER anthems forged in blood.

Setlist: