With the sun still throwing shadows across the castle walls, High Vis stormed the stage ready to get the crowd amped ahead of Fontaines D.C.'s arrival in the capital city. Clad in their signature aesthetic - part terrace culture, part punk abrasion, the London-based outfit wasted no time announcing their intent. From the very first kick-drum snap, the band sounded feral, focused, and absolutely vital.

Their brand of punk isn’t nostalgia - it’s lived-in, furious, and working-class in the most contemporary sense. Tracks like Trauma Bonds and Walking Wires bristled with urgency, combining chugging guitars, stomping rhythms, and Graham Sayle’s brazen vocals, which somehow manage to sound both spat out and sung with love. His presence undeniable as he marched from side to side, eyes closed, fists clenched, neck veins stretched like guitar strings. 

The crowd, many of whom were still filtering in with drinks in hand, were visibly caught off guard in the best way. And as the mosh pits readily opened, the band left the stage to roars that suggested they'd won more than a few new converts in S. Wales.

Next, Kae Tempest delivered a moving counterpoint. Where High Vis came charging with raw energy, Tempest calmed the atmosphere then cracked hearts open. As golden hour settled over the castle, their set ushered in a change in temperature: quieter, more contemplative, but no less powerful. Accompanied by minimalist beats and atmospheric synths that echoed hauntingly off the ancient walls, Tempest channelled something spiritual - grounded in rhythm, language, and radical honesty. 

Drawing from 'The Line Is a Curve' and their recently released ‘Self Titled’ album, Tempest’s presence was quiet yet understated. No pyro, no light show, or grandeur set design. Just honest, raw lyrics that packed a punch, wrought with openness. 

From the plinking melodic fragility of Diagnoses to the expansive synth textures of Salt Coast, they painted sonic landscapes, blending poetry and production into something visceral and deeply connective. Every moment of the set seemed crafted with one clear purpose, to bring people together.

That’s what makes them such a singular presence. As their words tumbled out in a rhythmic cadence, in equal parts poetry, rap, and dramatic monologue, Tempest’s voice became a juxtaposition: tender and biting, worn yet resilient. And live, it held even more weight in the crowd's stillness, the collective breath being held between lines in tangible form. 

Tempest’s control of this silence was as potent as its delivery. They let space do the work with pauses between verses that hovered in the courtyard like a mist. Expertly demonstrated on Till Morning where spoken-words gave way to soaring backing vocals, lifting the track into something transcendent. This mastery of pacing and tone allowed the deeper themes through identity, resilience, and systemic struggle to land with a new intimacy. As thousands stood together in a moment so fragile, Tempest reminded us that words, when wielded with such precision and care, can still be the most powerful instrument on stage.

Tracks from their newly released LP landed with strong significance. Know Yourself, in particular, with its vulnerabilities laid bare in unflinching detail, each syllable punctuating the crowd who clung on to the razor sharp delivery. These songs are built for the live setting, not in spite of their introspection, but because of it.

To follow High Vis’s bristling punk and precede Fontaines D.C.’s commanding romanticism, Tempest's grounding presence was a profound and moving sentiment. And in the midst of a bill soaked in distortion and release, their set offered the sharpest kind of catharsis: the quiet kind that lodges in your ribs and stays there.

By the time Fontaines D.C. took the stage, night had fully fallen, and the towering battlements of Cardiff Castle formed a jagged silhouette. A crowd already swelled by the bruised beauty of Kae Tempest and the righteous punk urgency of High Vis now surged forward with anticipation as an uproar signified the band's arrival.

Towering and tightly wound, they moved like a single organism. Grian Chatten, twitching and prowling as if permanently caught between a whisper and a howl, showcasing why he's one of the most compelling frontmen of this generation. His voice, darker and more measured than in the days of Dogrel, which now carries weight rather than just volume.

One might mistake him for a Liam Gallagher imitation, decked out in a trench coat and sunglasses, tambourine in hand. But there's no cocky arrogance here. The band behind him is a machine now. Carlos O’Connell and Conor Curley weave shimmering, angular guitars with quiet precision. Conor Deegan III keeps everything grounded with that ever-melodic bass style, and Tom Coll remains forever disciplined, dynamic, and surgically sharp.  

Their setlist, whilst pulled across the full arc of their back catalogue, leaned heavily into the experimental textures of 2024’s Romance. Songs like Favourite, Starburster, and In The Modern World brought with them a sense of unease and tension in an almost ritualistic ablution. Gone is the straight-ahead punk propulsion and in its place, groove, atmosphere, and the dread-laced beauty of repetition. The title track, in particular, was a standout with its mechanical pulse beating like a panic attack in real time, whilst Chatten delivered vocals like fragmented thoughts spliced together with haunting nuances. 

Rattling out the gates, the old favourites soon came thick and fast. Jackie Down the Line was quickly followed by Boys in the Better Land and Televised Mind leaving no room to breath as fans frantically jumped around in a frenzy. 

What’s striking is how little they pander. There’s no need to win the crowd over. Fontaines trust their craft, and their evolution and there's very little interaction from Grian except for a thanks to show appreciation. It's subtle but the adoration is there.  

Fontaines D.C. aren’t interested in spectacle. There are no tricks, no cheap highs. Their live presence is about mood, tone, and control. And it works. Cardiff Castle’s no easy venue to command, but the band reshaped it to their own in brilliant fashion. 

This wasn’t just a band playing to their past or coasting on momentum. But a group stepping into a larger frame, grander, more cinematic, still gripping the same emotional thread that brought them here.