Big Tops And Big Riffs: QOTSA Take Rock’n’Roll To The Circus

★★★★★ (5/5)

**QUEENS OF THE STONE AGE HEADLINING SHEFFIELD’S ROCK ‘N’ ROLL CIRCUS FOR TWO NIGHTS AT DON VALLEY BOWL**
**PHOTOCREDIT:** **JOHN HAYHURST**

Sheffield’s Don Valley Bowl became a carnival of noise, colour, and spectacle on Thursday night as Rock’n’Roll Circus rolled back into town for another year. With its mix of heavyweight acts and rising names, paired with high-wire, jugglers and flame throwers between sets, it felt part music festival, part fever dream. The warm late-summer air clung heavy over the Big Top arena, sudden bursts of rain never dampening spirits. It was the kind of night where the boundaries between gig and theatre blurred, where guitars and acrobatics shared the same stage light.

It was Big Freedia who flung the doors of the Big Top open, and in truth, nothing could have prepared the crowd for her tidal wave of bounce. The beats and her rap hit like cannon fire, sparking a frenzy of movement that spread in seconds. Every shout-back and dance-move seemed amplified by her infectious command, setting an irrepressibly joyful tone for the evening. Two dancers by her side she controlled the early movers with ease and by the time she strutted off, the big top felt transformed—less a stage, more a sweat-drenched dancefloor.

Early in the day, the Carousel stage felt strangely small for Circa Waves, a band more used to late-afternoon main stages and sun-drenched festival slots. Yet the intimacy worked in their favour. Thrown on unusually early, they played with a chip on their shoulder, cranking up the volume and tearing through their set with rawer edges than usual. The smaller crowd was packed tight and buzzing, a lucky few getting the kind of up-close blast that bigger stages rarely allow.

By the time they hit their closer, “T-Shirt Weather,” the area was already bouncing like it was headline hour. Voices carried every word, arms were flung skyward, and for a few minutes the Carousel stage felt like the beating heart of the entire festival.

A short walk around the Big Top and a downward shift in energy led to the BBC Introducing stage, where Let Man Loose kept things grounded in raw rock grit. Their set carried the urgency of a band with something to prove, guitars growling over heavy rhythms while the small crowd drew in close. It was a performance brimming with potential—confident, loud, and intimate enough that you could feel every note in your ribcage.

Back at the Big Top, The Murder Capital changed the temperature entirely. Dark, searing, and full of menace, their set was a storm unfurling, and during it one did outside the canvas. Each track was delivered with razor-wire precision, opening with The Fall charismatic frontman James McGovern is front and centre, conducting the ferocious energy of the band around him. However it isn’t all noise, there are key moments of vulnerability and deep emotional resonance. A powerful version of Don’t Cling To Life is followed by an impassioned plea for us all to get behind the support of Palestine and ‘Love of Country’ was the perfect scene setter for that message, it seamlessly flows into the poetry opening of ‘Feeling Fades’ and when the pit finally broke loose during the chorus, it felt both inevitable and cathartic, the violence of the sound mirrored by the frenzy of bodies colliding below. ‘Ethel’ is now greeted as a classic in their set, McGovern requesting people on shoulders so that he could see the whites of our eyes, ironic as he was wearing shades throughout. Words Lost Meaning brought their incendiary set to a close.

If The Murder Capital’s set was a storm, Jehnny Beth on the Electric Carousel was a haunting wailing banshee. Clad in black and with those beautiful staring eyes, she tore through “I’m the Man” with a voice that demands your full attention. It was a performance as much about presence as sound, drawing the audience into her orbit, she climbed on to the shoulders of the front row and then jumped in the crowd. The Carousel stage witnessed more than they bargained for as the former Savages lead gave a confrontational yet vulnerable performance after the heavy rain earlier.

Back at BBC Introducing and in combat with Jehnny Beth were So Good, who were more brat pop than punk but a surprisingly great fit for the day. Fronted by a sharp, magnetic lead singer called Sophie Bokor-Ingram, she was flanked by two backing singers who doubled up as dancers, the trio spun through tightly choreographed routines, gyrating and moving in time with every beat. Their energy was infectious, and behind them, a masked three-piece band in hoodies laid down taut rock rhythms—anonymous figures providing the grit while the front line brought the glamour.

Energy spiked further with Viagra Boys, who swaggered onto the Big Top stage like chaos incarnate. Sebastian Murphy wears his tattooed beer belly with extreme pride. Their set was part punk gig, part surreal satire, and wholly irresistible. The climax being “Sports” which turned into a raucous sing-along, beer flying through the air as the crowd bellowed every absurd lyric back at them. Murphy manages 3 press ups before collapsing in a drunken heap. It was grimy, it was unhinged, and it was exactly what the night needed.

Shame brought a different flavour back at the Carousel. Intense, fractured, but fiercely human, they burned through tracks with restless urgency. Frontman Charlie Steen, clad in a white priest’s dog collar and dark shades, prowled like a man possessed. Within minutes he was balanced on the speaker stack, then teetering on the barrier, screaming into the faces of the front row as if daring them to scream louder back. Behind him, the band tore into each song with relentless force, one guitarist was a blur of motion, sprinting laps across the stage before launching himself airborne with each jagged riff.

Their set closed with “One Rizla,” the band’s defining anthem, and the place erupted. The chorus rang out like a mantra, every voice rising to meet Steen as he thrust the mic toward the crowd, sweat and feedback spilling into one fevered crescendo. It was raw, chaotic, and utterly gripping.

The final act on BBC Intro was Demob Happy, a three-piece who wasted no time in laying down thick, fuzz-soaked grooves. Despite the modest size of the stage, they played like they were headlining, locking into heavy riffs that rattled through their set. There was a cool swagger to their delivery, every note stretched with intent, the kind of sound that made passers-by stop and edge closer.

Their set leaned on standout tracks, with Less Is More spiralling into a hypnotic jam that drew the crowd deeper, also a punchy rendition of ‘Be Your Man’. There are distinct comparisons between lead singer and bassist Matthew Marcantonio and a young Josh Homme, with his equally laid-back yet powerful vocals echoing throughout the place. They are perhaps the perfect support band for QOTSA. It was raw, sweaty, and fiercely confident.

Finally, Queens of the Stone Age closed the night with the swagger only a band of their stature can summon. This was their last night in Europe, Josh Homme reminded us about that early on, and they played like a band intent on leaving nothing behind. After opening with Regular John they hit hard from the second track with No One Knows the crowd’s roar almost swallowing the guitars as thousands sang every word back. Later Paper Machete followed with venom, Homme grinning through clenched riffs, his voice like a sneer set to melody.

Before I Sat By The Ocean it gave Homme a chance to introduce the band. He is ever the mischief-maker, and after introducing everyone else, quipped that he was in fact “Alex Turner,” nodding towards the Arctic Monkeys frontman who was apparently watching from the wings. The Sheffield crowd lapped it all up, and the warmth of that in-joke seemed to ripple through the tent. Then came Feel Good Hit of the Summer its infamous refrain shouted louder than any other today—pure hedonistic catharsis.

The set grew looser, more playful. Make It Wit Chu funked effortlessly into The Rolling Stones’ “Miss You,” a sultry, swaggering moment that had couples swaying as hard as others moshed. But the night wasn’t without its sobering moments. During “A Song for the Dead,” the music ground to a halt when someone in the crowd suffered a seizure and had to be carried out. Homme didn’t let the moment pass silently—he cracked terrible dad jokes, asked the crowd to boo louder, and, crucially, ensured the fan was safe before resuming. “We look after our own – right?”. It was a reminder of his strange mix of dark showman and shepherd, always in control even when things tilt sideways.

They signed off with “Mexicola,” folding back into a reprise of “A Song for the Dead,” a closing one-two that shook the Big Top to its foundations. Rain tapped against the canvas outside, but inside the tent, sweat, dust, and thunderous noise collided into one final, unrelenting wall of sound. It felt like something raw, communal, and historic for everyone who crammed beneath that canvas.

What struck me most about Rock’n’Roll Circus at Don Valley Bowl was how complete the set-up felt. With just three stages, it never sprawled or overwhelmed, but each one was packed with enough talent to keep you moving all day, darting between big names, cult favourites, and the thrill of discovering something new. The circus acts drifting in and out between sets gave the whole thing its own surreal rhythm—tightrope walkers, aerialists and acrobats turning what might have been downtime into a spectacle all its own.

Even the practicalities had a kind of charm. The food stalls ticked every box you’d want from a festival—greasy, indulgent, comforting—and in VIP they’d even tucked a Greggs away, a detail that felt perfectly Sheffield. For a first experience, it was everything I’d hoped and more: brilliantly programmed, easy to navigate, and full of moments that linger long after the music fades. Next year I’ll be back, but this time for more than one night—because if this was just a taste, I want the full feast.