The Whisky-a-Go-Go on the world-famous Sunset Strip in Hollywood, CA has seen its share of legends… Jim Morrison prowling the stage, Van Halen igniting the Sunset Strip, countless nights where the walls themselves seemed to sweat history. But November 6th, 2025, was something else entirely. Regiment came to play a show, but they were also going to conscript the room. The floorboards became a recruitment center, the amps blared a call to arms, and every riff a battle cry against the looming threat.

Their latest album already painted Los Angeles as a scorched wasteland, a city staggering through post-apocalyptic ruin. But live, the vision sharpened: surviving the fallout among the ruins against the rise of the machines is the primary mission. Regiment leaned into the mythology with tenacity, turning the crowd into a war council where fans became soldiers drafted into the fight against the coming wave of robots and AI. Among the cheers, “kill the clankers” and “no to AI” were being chanted with visceral fervor.

And yet, amid the theatrics, the music roared with the kind of majesty that makes you believe, if only for a night, that guitars really could hold back the apocalypse.

The night opened like a war council assembling its champions. The recruitment drive for a rising metal militia was in full force, and each band sharpening its weapons and stepping forward to claim its place in the coming onslaught.

Mortal Dissolution lit the fuse. Their collision of thrash, punk, and outlaw rock ’n’ roll hit the room like a renegade artillery blast. This was the first roar of a beast waking up, a signal flare announcing that the battlefield was officially live.

From there, HILLSICK of Humboldt County surged in, dragging a storm behind them. Their brand of thrash was fast, feral, and gloriously unhinged. Their sound is the kind that rattles rib cages and shakes loose the last bit of hesitation from a crowd. With every riff, the room swelled, the energy rising like a tide preparing to break.

Then Headhunter charged the stage with zero interest in diplomacy. They came in swinging, delivering a merciless barrage of metal that felt like a siege engine battering down a fortress gate. No prisoners, no pauses… just pure, unrelenting force. All they left was a smoking battlefield and ruins to clean up.

Labyrinth, hailing from the scorched metal territories of Houston, TX, wasted no time announcing their presence. They hit the stage like a precision strike team, letting their hard‑hitting thrash do every ounce of the talking. No theatrics, no hesitation… just pure, unfiltered aggression delivered with the efficiency of veterans who know exactly how to level a room. Their set carved a straight path through the chaos, a reminder that in the wasteland, clarity and force are sometimes the sharpest weapons of all.

When 12 Gauge Trixie took command, the night detonated into a new stratosphere. Violet Howitt’s vocals cut through the air like a blade forged in fire. Powerful, soaring, and impossible to ignore. She delivered a performance worthy of the Whisky stage on the Sunset Strip, commanding the room with the confidence of a seasoned warrior queen. Behind her, Art Rodriguez (lead guitar), Mia Baenziger (rhythm guitar), and Paloma Bareno (bass) unleashed a synchronized assault that was nothing short of awe-inspiring. Their set was a highlight, and it was a assertion of their dominance.

By now, the venue was packed shoulder-to-shoulder, the crowd humming with anticipation. And then the legends arrived.

Intranced stepped into the lights like veterans returning to the front lines. With NWOTHM titans James‑Paul Luna at the helm and Fili Bibiano wielding the axe like a weapon of myth, the promise of epic metal was immediate. On the back line, Ben Richardson and the heroic bass-god locked in with a thunderous precision that shook the room’s foundations. Together, they delivered a feverish set of soaring vocals, mind‑melting riffs, and chest‑crushing rhythm. It was a masterclass in power and presence. Their performance didn’t just raise the stakes; it forged the final edge of anticipation before the headliner’s arrival.

Finally, the moment the room had been bracing for arrived. Regiment assembled like a battle‑hardened strike force, gathering their weapons, armor, and ironclad fury for the coming assault. In the wastelands, only the ruthless endure and Regiment sits at the top of that brutal food chain for a reason.

Andy Panik stepped into the lights and unleashed a riff that screamed across the venue like an air‑raid siren, a warning to all who dared stand in their path. Dylan Segatore gripped his bass with the calm precision of a heavy‑machine‑gun operator, waiting for the perfect moment to unleash hell. Behind them, Giovanni Loyola manned his drum kit like the commander of an armored tank division, every strike a shell hitting its mark. Regiment was there to execute a mission with cold precision and molten fury. Kings of the wasteland, marching forward to recruit the willing and crush the enemy beneath their boots.

Then came the moment of truth.

Tyler “Heathen Hammer” Heath hit the stage with the authority of a four‑star general surveying the battlefield. His carved features and lean, battle‑ready frame spoke volumes before he even opened his mouth. His presence bent the room around him, a gravitational force pulling every eye, every breath, every heartbeat into his orbit. The crowd detonated as the band tore straight into Acid Lord, and Tyler’s voice (raw, commanding, electric) whipped the near‑capacity room into a frenzy. After a performance like this, the legions of Regiment were destined to multiply tenfold. In that instant, it was clear why Heath holds rank: the Metal Gods themselves have armed him with a voice forged for the lofty halls of Metal Valhalla, a weapon equal parts fury and glory.

The apex of their recruitment campaign against the robot scourge arrived with Cyborg Holocaust. This is the symbolic declaration of war against the cold robot scourge. Earlier in the night, a cyborg infiltrator had been discovered attempting to slip into the event and spy on the resistance. Disarmed and exposed, the mechanical traitor was hurled into the crowd, where it was torn apart with righteous fury. From the twisted circuits and shattered plating, Regiment intel was recovered. I managed to secure the CD, while others unearthed stickers and shirts from the wreckage. Sneaky robots never learn. The corpse of the clanker was reduced to scattered bits to serve as trophies for the new blood. Regiment smiled in unison, knowing that they’d done well.

Over the course of their 12‑song offensive, the room began to overflow with with new recruits eager to enlist in the resistance. Regiment’s campaign was a resounding victory! It was a night of fire, steel, and unbreakable allegiance forged in the heat of battle.

In the end, the night stood as a triumphant victory for every warrior who stepped into that room. Band after band forged their legacy in fire and volume, and Regiment sealed the evening with a campaign worthy of legend. The robot scourge had attempted to infiltrate the gathering, but their lone spy was exposed, dismantled, and stripped of its stolen intel before it could slither back to its metallic overlords. The message was clear: the resistance is awake, armed, and unbreakable. No machine, no matter how cunning, can breach a force this united.

As the dust settled and the last echoes of battle drifted into the night, one truth remained carved into the concrete: the wasteland is no place for the weak. Those who hesitate are already lost. Regiment’s ranks swelled with new recruits, each one ready to take up arms against the encroaching mechanical horde. If you value survival, glory, or even the simple thrill of standing shoulder‑to‑shoulder with the fiercest fighters in the territory, now is the time to enlist. The war is coming, and only the strong will walk out of the ruins.

With appreciation to Tyler Heath of Regiment, James-Paul Luna of Intranced, and Dream of Mirrors Photography.