A Day To Remember
The band that made whiplash between gang-vocal breakdowns and stadium-sized pop choruses feel inevitable — two decades on, still the template.
Two days of hardcore, metalcore and 2000s scene reunions inside a decommissioned Birmingham ironworks.
Furnace Fest takes place inside a dead ironworks: Sloss Furnaces in Birmingham, a preserved 19th-century blast-furnace site of rusted pipework and brick sheds, which is either the best or the worst possible place to put 62 hardcore and metalcore bands for two October days. The 2026 edition leans on the full-album set — Underoath performing Define the Great Line in its entirety, and Bring Me The Horizon closing Sunday with their debut Count Your Blessings front to back for its twentieth birthday — then surrounds them with the reunions this festival has built its reputation on: Chiodos, Poison the Well, Eighteen Visions, Cartel, The Tony Danza Tapdance Extravaganza. A Day To Remember tops Saturday. Everything else is 2000s scene history and the current hardcore wave sharing the same slag heap.
Expect post-hardcore, metalcore, hardcore and deathcore across 62 acts.
October 10–11, 2026 — Saturday and Sunday.
Sloss Furnaces in Birmingham, Alabama — a decommissioned ironworks, now a museum and National Historic Landmark.
A Day To Remember (Saturday) and Bring Me The Horizon (Sunday), with Bring Me The Horizon playing their debut Count Your Blessings in full for its twentieth anniversary.
Underoath performs Define the Great Line in its entirety on Saturday.
62 acts across two days.
Every act's day is already on this page — expand the full lineup below or check the day-by-day breakdown. Stage times usually land closer to the festival.
Tell the finder at the top of this page a few bands you love — it'll match you with your must-see sets, with reasons why.
Lollapalooza lineup →Hopscotch lineup →The Fest lineup →Rebellion lineup →III Points lineup →Lost Lands lineup →Louder Than Life lineup →All Points East lineup →Aftershock lineup →End of the Road lineup →ARC lineup →Warped Tour Orlando lineup →Austin City Limits lineup →Reading & Leeds lineup →EDC Orlando lineup →Bourbon & Beyond lineup →Riot Fest lineup →Outside Lands lineup →Green Man lineup →HARD Summer lineup →Osheaga lineup →Bass Canyon lineup →Hulaween lineup →Honcho Campout lineup →Portola lineup →Shaky Knees lineup →Sick New World Texas lineup →Hinterland lineup →All Things Go DMV lineup →Raleigh Wide Open lineup →Oceans Calling lineup →Darker Waves lineup →Bumbershoot lineup →Ohana lineup →Sea.Hear.Now lineup →Iron Blossom lineup →All Things Go NYC lineup →
Going to Furnace Fest 2026? Get tickets ↗
The band that made whiplash between gang-vocal breakdowns and stadium-sized pop choruses feel inevitable — two decades on, still the template.
Anthony Green's helium-high tenor floating over restless, chiming guitar work that never quite resolves where you expect — prog instincts wearing post-hardcore clothes.
Performing Define the Great Line in full — the screamed-and-sung record that dragged the era's scene toward genuine dissonance and ambition.
Piano-laced, theatrical post-hardcore with Craig Owens's unmistakable yelp lurching between croon and shriek — scene-era maximalism played with total commitment.
Melodic metalcore that leans hard on the clean-sung hook, carrying a decade-plus of hard-won catharsis — brotherhood themes made literal.
Thirty years of blunt-force positivity — Jamey Jasta shouting self-reliance over riffs engineered to move a room sideways, hardcore's most dependable motivational speaker.
South Florida's awkward, arty metalcore pioneers — dissonant and abrupt where their peers went polished, and more influential for it.
Sunny, hook-first pop-punk from the Chroma era, back when a big chorus was the entire argument — and theirs were bigger than most.
A drummer-vocalist fronting frantic, jazz-inflected post-hardcore that changes direction every eight bars — Chico's contribution to the Swancore canon.
Dual-vocal post-hardcore built on the tension between two singers arguing across the same melody — Tooth & Nail-era craft that aged unusually well.
Aaron Gillespie stepping out from behind the kit for scrappier, southern-tinged rock songs with the grit left in — Underoath's drummer, unplugged from the chaos.
A two-piece making absurdly dense, tapping-heavy emo that sounds like four people having the best day of their lives — Gami gang, assemble.
Bay Area deathcore with a bottomless low end and breakdowns that arrive like a door being kicked in — no melody, no mercy.
Melodic hardcore with a conscience — sermons about solidarity delivered at full sprint, Orange County conviction two decades deep.

Alabama's own, having swapped melodic metalcore for something meaner and nu-metal-adjacent — with the heaviness to justify the trade.
Long Island heavy hardcore riding the current wave — stomping, unfussy, built entirely for the pit, posse cuts included.
A joke name attached to genuinely punishing mathcore — time signatures as a form of assault, reunited for the brave.
Long Island kids threading '90s melodic hardcore through big, wistful hooks that stick immediately — scene-lifer pedigree with real pop instincts.
Hometown heavy hardcore — ugly, fast, and unmistakably Alabaman, pit music with a chip on its shoulder.
Fifth-wave emo at its most frantic — tapped riffs and throat-shredding payoffs in equal measure, from a band that treats catharsis as a competitive sport.

Playing debut Count Your Blessings front to back for its 20th — a return to the feral deathcore they spent the next two decades outgrowing.
Horror-movie theatrics welded to industrial-tinged metalcore — corpse paint, synths, and choruses built for an arena singalong, Halloween as a year-round genre.
Alex Terrible's subterranean roar over deathcore built like siege machinery — as much spectacle as band, and heavier than both.
Texan beatdown with Matt Honeycutt barking working-class grievance over riffs like falling masonry — heavy in subject and in tuning.
Moody, bass-heavy alt-metal that trades breakdowns for slow-building dread and falsetto — 'FEEL NOTHING' the crossover moment.
Georgia's chaotic metalcore lifers — dissonant, lurching, and allergic to a clean resolution, still finding new ways to fall apart on purpose.
The band that made deathcore a genre with a fanbase, still trading in pure blunt trauma — 'The Cleansing'-era canon intact.

Sermonizing metallic hardcore delivered less like a set than a revival meeting — altar calls between breakdowns.
Keyboard-shadowed, black-metal-tinged metalcore from the peak of the Orange County scene — symphonic menace layered over mosh-part brutality.
Swedish hardcore channelling panic-attack lyricism into riffs that feel physically claustrophobic — short songs, total impact.
Divisive by design — nu-metal bounce, deathcore weight, and Frankie Palmeri saying the unsayable, engineered to start arguments and pits alike.
Utah deathcore that keeps finding new floors beneath the floor — a decade-plus of low-tuned punishment that only got nastier with time.
Blackened deathcore with a genuine sense of atmosphere under all the tremolo and blastbeats — grim, symphonic weight that outlasts the genre's shock tactics.
The band that put the fashion in fashioncore — hair, hooks, and a metallic swagger nobody else pulled off, Orange County scene history reactivated.
Florida beatdown with no interest in subtlety — grief and rage compressed into two-minute assaults, as heavy emotionally as it is sonically.
Hardcore veterans making sunny, ramshackle power-pop with the energy of a band that has nothing to prove — Turnstile and Trapped Under Ice pedigree, zero tough-guy posture.
Atlanta's grungiest emo export — quiet, bitter verses that detonate without warning, catharsis engineered with a slow fuse.
Symphonic deathcore that never abandoned the orchestral bombast, whatever the trends did — keyboards and breakdowns in full armor.
Twinkly, self-lacerating emo about mental health, sung like it's being confessed rather than performed — catharsis with a Nashville accent.
Whiplash mathcore that lurches from jazz interlude to blast beat mid-phrase and dares you to follow — Jersey chaos, precision-built.
Post-hardcore that leans into the ache — glossy production over genuinely raw heartbreak, built for night drives after the show.

Philly emo with a comedian's timing — sprawling, funny songs that turn genuinely bleak without warning, from a band whose whole name is an iCarly bit played straight.
