Chrome, Chaos, and Zero Silence, Static-X Brings the Underground Back to Life In Detroit

Sep 22

There’s something about walking into the Fillmore on a Detroit night that already feels like stepping into a movie. Maybe it’s the glow off Woodward, maybe it’s the way the lobby hums like it’s daring you to keep up. But when Static-X took the stage, that feeling went from “opening credits” to “full-on cult classic” in seconds.

No gentle fade-in. Just a hard cut to black, a surge of low-end rumble—and then the unmistakable voice of Vincent Price from the first part of Thriller slid through the speakers. His eerie monologue set the room on edge as a tall skeleton with a pumpkin head stalked across the stage, backlit in haze while bubbles began to drift over the crowd. It was equal parts haunted carnival and midnight movie, and the whole venue leaned in.

The first real left turn came during “Bled for Days.” Out of nowhere, the bubble machine hissed to life harder. Not cute, party-store bubbles, either—these were thick, glowing orbs that caught the lights and hung in the air like tiny planets. While we were all staring up, masked characters started sprinting across the stage—half horror-movie extras, half fever dream. They’d pop out of the smoke, lunge toward the crowd, disappear again. It felt like someone hit “play” on a bootleg 2000s underground flick where the club scene goes completely off the rails.

The set never coasted. Static-X has that uncanny thing where even the in-between moments feel loaded. Guitars hit like wrecking balls, the bass a low-end earthquake you feel in your teeth. The crowd moved like a single organism—pits opening, closing, arms in the air, everybody feeding the band right back.

Third from the end, they unleashed a dark surprise: the crushing track from the cult classic Queen of the Damned’s “Cold.” The riff hit like a serrated blade, the vocal a perfect mix of menace and reverence. For a few minutes the Fillmore felt like a gothic cathedral—black lights, fog, and every voice raised in unholy chorus.

And then there’s that mask. Photos don’t even get close. Up close it’s chrome and menace, sharp lines that catch every strobe flash like it’s alive. There’s a little cyberpunk in it, a little slasher-villain vibe, and somehow it’s still rock-and-roll. Every time the spotlight hit, the room collectively leaned forward just to watch it move.

By the time they barreled into “Push It” for the closer, the place was pure combustion. Bubbles still floated through the strobes, sweat dripping from the ceiling, and every voice in the room shouted the hook like it might break the rafters. It wasn’t nostalgia; it was now, alive and cracking.

Static-X didn’t just play Detroit. They built a scene, turned the Fillmore into a black-light back alley, and reminded everyone why this music still hits like a punch twenty-plus years on. Walking out into the night, ears ringing, you couldn’t help but feel like you’d just wandered out of a film that never stops playing.