System of a Down
Armenian-American art-metal that never stopped sounding unhinged — lurching time signatures, Serj Tankian's operatic yelp, and hooks that shouldn't work but do.
One Saturday, one speedway, and the whole nu-metal and industrial canon in a row — System of a Down and Deftones over a bill that runs to Deafheaven and Boy Harsher.
Sick New World's Texas edition is a single Saturday at Texas Motor Speedway, and it is unusually well-designed for one day: fifty acts covering essentially the entire late-90s and 2000s heavy canon, plus a genuinely modern hardcore undercard. System of a Down and Deftones headline. Slayer play a 40 Years of Reign in Blood set. Evanescence, Ministry, Marilyn Manson, Mastodon and Melvins fill the tier beneath.
What separates it from a straightforward nostalgia bill is the bottom half. Sunami, Scowl, Speed, Knocked Loose, Pain of Truth and Dying Wish are the current hardcore mainstream, and Boy Harsher, Twin Tribes and She Wants Revenge give the day a genuine darkwave strand. No day splits to worry about — it's all one Saturday, so the only real planning problem is stage clashes.
Expect alt-metal, metalcore, hardcore and nu-metal across 50 acts.
Saturday, October 24, 2026 — a single day.
Texas Motor Speedway in Fort Worth, Texas.
System of a Down and Deftones, with Slayer and Evanescence beneath them.
50 acts across one day.
No — this is the Texas edition, with its own separate lineup.
Type a few bands you already love into the search at the top of this page and you'll get ranked matches from this lineup, with reasons.
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 →Furnace Fest lineup →Shaky Knees 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 Sick New World Texas 2026? Get tickets ↗
Armenian-American art-metal that never stopped sounding unhinged — lurching time signatures, Serj Tankian's operatic yelp, and hooks that shouldn't work but do.
The band that dragged heaviness toward dream-pop — Chino Moreno's croon-to-scream over guitars tuned for atmosphere as much as impact.
Thrash's most pitiless institution — tritones, air-raid solos, and a rhythm section that never once let up, 'Raining Blood' as closing rite.
Amy Lee's piano-and-orchestra gothic metal, the sound of a whole 2000s radio format built around one voice — 'Bring Me to Life' still an event live.
Al Jourgensen's industrial-metal war machine — sampled sermons, mechanised riffing, and four decades of pure spite, still grinding forward.
Hardcore kids who became goths and then a genuinely huge rock band — Davey Havok's full-commitment melodrama riding a catalog that runs from East Bay punk to 'Miss Murder'-era anthems.
The 1990s' designated national panic — glam-industrial theatre staged with genuine pop instincts underneath, 'The Beautiful People' still a siren.
Screamo-adjacent post-hardcore with a drummer who sings the choruses — the band that made metalcore sound cavernous and searching, still restless.
Riff-and-groove lifers — Neil Fallon hollering tall tales over the most reliably heavy live band in American rock, three decades without phoning one in.

NOLA sludge supergroup — Phil Anselmo fronting molasses-slow riffs built for a room with no air conditioning, swamp-heavy doom from scene royalty.
Rave music rebuilt as a punk band — breakbeats at riot volume and a live show that still flattens festival fields.
Jae Matthews and Augustus Muller making darkwave that feels like a film score for something you shouldn't watch — throbbing synths, whispered menace, fog everywhere.
Spooky-kid nu-metal with real bounce — detuned, dressed up, and unbothered about being taken seriously, which is exactly why it holds up.
Florida metalcore that kept mutating — each record noticeably stranger and more textured than the last, a blueprint for the genre's art wing.
Deadpan Valley post-punk that wore its Joy Division debt openly and got a genuinely great single out of it — 'Tear You Apart' endures.
Clean-chorus metalcore engineered for the big room, with breakdowns placed exactly where you want them — Ocala precision, radio ambition.
German industrial-rock built on sloganeering, disco-stomp drums, and Aidan Hughes's woodcut sleeve art — self-described 'ultra-heavy beat', four decades strong.
Two decades of straight-ahead hardcore with no ornament whatsoever — pure mosh utility, 'Keepers of the Faith' as literal job description.
Bay Area beatdown that turned meme-level swagger into a genuinely feared live act — the joke stopped being a joke fast.
Kentucky hardcore built on the meanest two-step riffs going, with Bryan Garris's shriek cutting clean over the top — heaviness that crossed over without softening.
Kat Moss fronting hardcore that keeps widening toward melody without losing the bite — Santa Cruz's fastest-rising export.
The band grunge was built on and then outlasted — King Buzzo's hair, Dale Crover's drums, and forty years of contrarian sludge.
Post-hardcore's great withholders — Daryl Palumbo's serrated delivery over grooves that lurch sideways, and records doled out a decade apart.
Sydney hardcore that went global fast — brotherhood-forward lyrics and riffs built entirely for the pile-on, community as the whole point.
San Diego's rap-metal optimists — reggae inflections and arena-sized uplift where their peers went nihilist, a genuinely durable outlier.
Concept-album sludge that grew into full prog — four players who all sing, over riffs that fold in on themselves.
Black metal's tremolo blur pointed at shoegaze bliss — screamed vocals over passages that keep resolving into something radiant, 'Sunbather' still the genre-argument that never ends.
Thick, downtuned '90s worship that a whole generation found late and adopted wholesale — 'Youngest Daughter' the unlikely viral hymn.
Teenage Ontario nu-metal that hardened into a genuinely heavy career — Morgan Lander's growl was never a novelty, and the comeback proved it.
Late-'90s funk-metal cut short by tragedy — hyperactive, punk-fast, and still fondly guarded by everyone who caught them the first time.
Synth-forward nu-metal in vinyl trousers — the New Order cover was the hit, but the originals leaned genuinely cold and chrome-plated.
Best known for turning 'Smooth Criminal' into an alt-metal hit — which undersells a Riverside band with a real ear for a chorus and more melodic instinct than their era usually rewarded.
Richard Patrick's post-NIN project — one enormous distorted single and a catalogue that swings from abrasive to sincere, 'Take a Picture' proving the range.
Crossover thrash that hardcore kids and metalheads agreed on — riffs with a pit already built into them, Riley Gale's legacy carried loud.
Border-town darkwave — reverbed baritone, chorused bass, and an unusually devoted following, Brownsville goth gone international.
Chaotic Southern metalcore — dissonant, lurching, and famously punishing to watch from the front, two decades of controlled collapse.
'90s space-rock that everyone else spent decades catching up to — heavy in texture rather than tempo, 'Fantastic Planet' the cult document.
Belgian acid-house provocateurs — filthy, funny, and built entirely for a room past midnight, '90s industrial-dance sleaze still fully operational.
Every Time I Die and Dillinger Escape Plan alumni reconvened — frantic, technical, and unusually fun for music this dense, with the swagger of veterans who have nothing to prove.
Long Island heavy hardcore with a lineage running straight back to the NYHC canon — new-school stomp, old-school allegiance.
Newer West Coast hardcore working the same fast, mean seam as its Bay Area peers — no-frills aggression built for short, violent sets.
Nu-metal revivalism from a newer solo act, leaning on the genre's bounce rather than its irony — self-made and rising.
Melody-forward modern alt-metal, R&B inflections and all, from one of the format's fastest-rising new names — Memphis soul under the drop-tuning.

Emma Boster fronting metalcore that leans hard into late-'90s heaviness with none of the nostalgia — Portland fury built for the modern pit.
Solo alt-metal built from bedroom production upward — nu-metal bounce with a genuinely modern pop ear, at the front of the scene's internet-native new wave.
Brazilian alt-rock with a rotating-instrument gimmick that turns out to be a real band underneath — everyone plays everything, arena-sized either way.
Slam played with a hip-hop swagger — gurgles, gore, and breakdowns tuned to the floor, the internet's favorite new heaviness.
