Last night, Manchester’s Academy 3 played host to a spectacle that defied genre, gravity, and good sense – And thank the metal gods for that. Evil Scarecrow, Nottingham’s finest (and possibly only) metal parody band to have penned an ode to a robot, brought their full arsenal of absurdity to the stage, and not even the venue’s modest dimensions could contain them.
Before a single riff was shredded, the crowd was treated to the delightfully deranged stylings of Andrew O’Neill — self-described occult comedian and actual conjurer of laughter. With a delivery that veered between arcane and anarchic, O’Neill warmed the room with surreal observations, metalhead musings, and just enough chaos to prime the audience for what was to come. It wasn’t your typical support slot, but then again, nothing about this evening was going to be typical.
When Evil Scarecrow took the stage, they did so with the kind of theatrical commitment that would make Broadway blush. Academy 3’s compact stage was no match for their ambition – Every inch was crammed with props, and enough sci-fi detritus to suggest a post-apocalyptic car boot sale. From inflatable sea creatures to robotic appendages, the band’s visual flair was matched only by their musical madness.
Evil Scarecrow clearly decided that fun shouldn’t be rationed, throwing the “three songs and out” rule straight into the bin and leaving the photo pit open all night. It felt like a cheeky wink to photographers everywhere – An invitation to capture the madness as it unfolded, rather than cramming all the chaos into the opening 12-15 minutes. The result? A grinning Gregg, free to chase every robot dance, every theatrical flourish, and every gloriously daft moment without the usual stopwatch ticking in the background.
The setlist was a glorious parade of the bizarre and the brilliant. “Green Bin Day” turned domestic drudgery into a headbanging anthem, while “Goth Moth” spawned a brighly lit giant lantern in the middle of the crowd and a spontaneous “moth pit” formed – It was part interpretive dance, part insect exorcism, and entirely unforgettable. It even attracted a tin foil clad robot man who, despite his outfit, proceeded to “moth” with commitment and fervour equal to if not surpassing those dressed normally (for an Evil Scarecrow gig). “Shop-Mus Prime” brought Transformers to life with more groove than Michael Bay ever managed, and “Crabulon” – A long-time fan favourite – Had the audience clawing the air in synchronised crustacean worship. “Brother Pain” and “Way to Die” offered moments of genuine metal heft, proving that beneath the parody lies a band with serious chops.
No Evil Scarecrow show would be complete without their long-running “Dave Mustaine” gag – A surreal, recurring bit that’s part homage, part fever dream. Whether it’s a whispered chant, a sudden costume change, or a random interjection, the Mustaine motif weaves through the set like a ghost in the machine, delighting long-time fans and confusing newcomers in equal measure.
And speaking of fans – What a crowd. From the first note to the final bow, the audience was electric. Every joke landed, every call was answered, and every absurd moment was met with cheers, chants, and choreographed chaos. Evil Scarecrow don’t just perform to their fans -They perform with them, creating a feedback loop of joy, nonsense, and metal mayhem.
Evil Scarecrow’s show at Academy 3 was more than a gig – It was a communal act of joyful rebellion against seriousness. It was a place where robots dance, moths mosh, and bins become battle standards. In a world that often takes itself far too seriously, Evil Scarecrow remind us that metal can be heavy and hilarious – And that sometimes, the best way to fight the darkness is with a crab claw in the air and a grin on your face.
Words and Photos by Gregg Howarth
