Hersheypark Stadium felt less like a Sunday night and more like a pressure cooker—rail campers stacked shoulder to shoulder, security already eyeing the pit, coaster lights flickering beyond the grandstands like a movie set. By the time the house dimmed for the first intro roll, the place was primed to blow. First up: Sleep Theory.
With the thankless daylight slot, Sleep Theory made it feel like prime time. Tight, no filler, hook-forward. Vocals were locked, the low end actually moved air, and by the second chorus of the opener the rail was already mouthing every line. Mid-set, frontman Cullen Moore paused to dedicate “Gravity” to all the ladies in the crowd—the biggest scream of the afternoon—then snapped straight back into the heavier run. They worked the width of the deck, kept transitions crisp, and dropped the biggest singalongs exactly where they’d hit hardest. For an opener, the response was loud enough to make security look up from the barricade—exactly what you want from a young band chasing its first stadium moments.
Hollywood Undead answered with a different kind of riot—party-rap catharsis done with arena discipline. Multiple vocalists tagging lines and harmonies, DJ stabs and guitar crunch landing in the same pocket, choruses built for ten thousand voices. Mid-set they brought a nine-year-old fan onstage for “Coming In Hot,” turning the pit into a grin and giving the night its purest feel-good spike. “Savior” hit like a mass sing-along—phones up, chorus booming, the whole floor moving as one. They’re pros at pacing: bounce, chant, drop—repeat—so the crowd never had a chance to cool off. Hands-up stretches looked like a field of metronomes, and the call-and-response moments felt automatic. Big hooks, bigger reactions, and a live mix that let the guitars bite through the tracks instead of fighting them.
Slaughter To Prevail turned the field into a furnace. The Russian grizzly in America, Alex Terrible, stalked the deck like a prizefighter—flipping from subterranean lows to jet-engine highs without losing breath—and the band behind him never slipped a grip: machine-precise double-kick, sawtooth guitars, breaks that detonated on cue. The pit went from busy to biblical in about eight bars. It could’ve been chaos-for-chaos’ sake, but it wasn’t—the set breathed just enough to make the next hit feel bigger. The mask visuals read from the back rows, and the mix gave the riffs teeth instead of mud. Pure impact.
Stacked together, the undercard did exactly what a great tour package should do: expand the target without breaking the vibe. Sleep Theory pulled people in early, Hollywood Undead lit the fuse, Slaughter To Prevail kept the needle pinned—and by the time Falling In Reverse took over, Hersheypark Stadium was primed to blow.
Ronnie Radke walked out like a fuse already lit. The open set was the band at full sprint: precision playback married to a live mix that actually punched, guitars cutting through instead of getting swallowed by low end. It’s easy to forget how airtight this group is when the headlines are always about the frontman; onstage, there’s zero wobble. Riffs landed, drops were surgical, and the rhythm section kept the floorboards shaking. The screens did a lot of heavy lifting—kinetic lyric hits, horror-movie cuts, and those sly internet nods the band has made a signature—but nothing upstaged the vocals. Radke barked, rapped, and belted with the kind of power that fills a stadium without needing the audience to finish every line for him (though they happily tried).
The early run leaned hard into the modern era—“Zombified,” “God Is a Weapon,” “Trigger Warning”—cold electronics teeing up sledgehammer choruses while Hershey answered with a sea of hands and phone lights. Then, FIR slid straight into the nostalgia/melodic stretch: “I’m Not a Vampire,” “The Drug in Me Is You,” and an Escape the Fate nod with “Situations,” plus the cheeky “Bad Guy” flip that kept the bounce up. “NO FEAR” happened in the crowd, turning the aisles into a runway; “Popular Monster” and “Voices in My Head” kept the needle pinned; “Ronald” with Alex Terrible blew the lid off; and “Watch the World Burn” detonated so hard they ran the ending two extra times. A mass “We Are the Champions” singalong sent everyone out hoarse and grinning.
What separates this tour from earlier runs is how confidently it owns the scale. The God Is A Weapon framework gives the show a through-line—apocalypse-pop meets horror-rap—and the band lean into it without slipping into camp. Even the banter hit right: short, sharp, a little unhinged, and aimed at pouring gas on an already wild crowd. By the time the closing stretch arrived, the stadium felt less like a venue and more like a collective dare to get louder. “Watch the World Burn” was a controlled riot—double-time vocal runs clean, the drop absolutely cavernous—and the closer had that rare, undeniable “we just saw the thing we came to see” energy. You could feel it in the way people didn’t move when the house lights came up; everyone wanted one more hit.
No surprise that Hershey showed out—Central PA always brings it for heavy music—but Falling In Reverse justified every decibel. The band’s critics will keep critiquing. The fans in this stadium got a reminder of why they show up: a ruthless, relentlessly entertaining performance that treats a Sunday night like a title fight. Ten out of ten for execution; eleven for crowd control. If God Is A Weapon is the era, Hershey was the proof of concept.
Falling In Reverse Tour
Falling In Reverse
Slaughter To Prevail
Hollywood Undead
Sleep Theory
