Some bands just aren’t as big as they deserve to be. It’s a strange fact of music that, regardless of the quality of their albums and the energy of their songs, certain acts never quite step out into mainstream awareness. Instead, they remain slightly obscured—a hidden treasure for those lucky enough to have discovered them, and a secret worth sharing. Black Spiders are undoubtedly one of those bands.
My journey with them began all the way back in 2014 at the Winter Rocks Festival, coincidentally held in the very same venue where I’d get to relive the magic tonight. That connection brings with it a genuine sense of nostalgia and excitement. After all, Sheffield is where Black Spiders first came together, forging their sound in the heart of the steel city in 2008. Returning here to see them again feels like a triumphant homecoming, not just for the band, but for fans like me who’ve been there since the early days.
Since that first encounter, I was lucky enough to catch Black Spiders a couple more times at various festivals, each time leaving with the biggest grin plastered across my face. Their apparent swan song in 2017—after they announced their disbandment the year before—left me resigned to the idea that this underrated gem would quietly fade away. But, as if determined to prove their resilience, Black Spiders stormed back in 2020, releasing new music and hitting the road on extensive tours. Tonight marked my long-awaited opportunity to see them again, and anticipation was running high.
Arriving at the Corporation a little later than planned, I could already hear the opening act kicking things off. Navigating through the bustling crowd, I grabbed the obligatory expensive-but-worth-it pint of Roadcrew and made my way into the thick of it. The support for the evening came from Santiago Kings—a local band that has been making waves in Sheffield’s underground rock scene, though I’d never caught a set myself until now.
Santiago Kings delivered what can only be described as one of the finest pub band sets I’ve witnessed, and I mean that in the best way possible. Their onstage camaraderie, playful banter between songs, and an infectious mix of blues, rock, and even a touch of bluegrass set the perfect tone for the night. Their genuine enjoyment radiated out into the packed crowd, earning hearty applause after each energetic track and a well-deserved cheer as they wrapped up.
But of course, this was just the warm-up act. As the room became even more crowded, the atmosphere was electric with anticipation for the main event—one that was sure to be raucous and sweaty. Looking around, I noticed the audience was largely made up of seasoned music fans, with a smattering of younger faces. Experience tells me this sort of crowd is discerning; Black Spiders would have to earn their full-throated approval.
The band took to the stage in a low-key fashion—lights fading and a simple song playing over the speakers. The response from the crowd was understated: polite applause, a few enthusiastic shouts, but little else. The tension in the room was tangible; this was an audience that needed winning over. Black Spiders knew this, launching into their set with several tracks from their newer material—“Never Enough,” “Tom Petty’s Lips,” and “Up All Night.” These tracks coaxed some tentative sing-alongs and the odd nodding head, but the crowd reserved their real excitement.
That all changed when the band unleashed “Balls” from their phenomenal ‘This Savage Land’ album. Suddenly, everything shifted. A small pit erupted near the front, eliciting some grumbles from older fans but igniting the contagious energy that makes a Black Spiders gig truly special. With that, the ice was broken; the band and the audience were united in celebration.
From here, the night hit its stride. The band dipped into a catalogue of fan favourites, their chemistry and charisma growing with every song. The highlight for me—and, I suspect, for many in attendance—was “Stay Down.” Before launching into its infamous outro, frontman Pete Spiby paused to give newcomers a crash course in band tradition. Seasoned veterans and curious newbies alike raised their middle fingers in the air for the irreverent “fuck you Black Spiders!” chant. The entire room exploded in a chorus of shouts and laughter, the kind of communal moment that makes live music unforgettable.
As the set powered on, it became clear why Black Spiders inspire such loyalty. The sound was tight, the energy relentless, and the banter between songs was genuinely entertaining without feeling rehearsed. Spiby’s gravelled vocals cut through the wall of guitars with the right balance of menace and warmth, while the rest of the band drove every riff and breakdown home with gusto. There was a sense of genuine gratitude from the stage, as if the band themselves couldn’t quite believe the amount of love filling the room.
By the time the last notes rang out, sweat was dripping from both band and crowd. There were broad smiles, aching throats, and a palpable sense of satisfaction. For those of us familiar with Black Spiders, it was a welcome affirmation that some bands don’t need mainstream approval to be great—they just need moments like this, where the music connects and everyone is part of something special. For newcomers, it was, I hope, an introduction to one of rock’s best-kept secrets.
Ultimately, the night was a testament to the enduring power of live music, especially when presented by a band that gives everything they have, no matter the size of the spotlight. Black Spiders may forever reside in the category of underappreciated legends, but for those packed into Sheffield Corporation, they were nothing short of headliners in every sense. If you get a chance to see them, seize it. You won’t just witness a gig; you’ll join a family.
