That’s how it was with BAD OMENS
December 10, 2025, Oberhausen, Rudolf-Weber-Arena
The news arrived like a bright flash of lightning that illuminates the night and instantly captivates you with its fascination. Bad Omens announced their first tour of Europe’s major arenas in August – unexpectedly, without warning, with only the immediate certainty that something significant was about to happen. And the announcement spread like wildfire: tickets disappeared at breakneck speed and most of the dates were completely sold out. The Rudolf-Weber-Arena in Oberhausen was also seamlessly lined up – completely full, pulsating, ready for a band that was to show on this evening how profoundly it had changed in recent months.
First signs
It is the return of a band that has worked hard – forced by a shadow that lay over them long before this tour. A shadow whose contours were palpable in January 2024, when Bad Omens played at the Palladium in Cologne. I experienced a concert evening of immense power, impressive production, vocally brilliant, but accompanied by an invisible heaviness, a certain distance that was hard to grasp. The announcements between songs seemed routine, there was no direct contact with the fans, which used to be a fundamental part of their identity.
The high price of rapid success
At the end of 2022, her song “Just Pretend” went viral on TikTok. Followed by a huge run in 2023: Millions of new streams, international attention, a fanbase that exploded. A success that catapulted Bad Omens overnight into an order of magnitude where every movement is visible and every breath seems to be watched. During this phase, the band members completely withdrew from social media – especially Noah Sebastian, who had previously been extremely present there. The hype overtook the band and with it came exhaustion. What followed was a cut that shook the fans: the spontaneous cancellation of the 2024 spring tour, including their appearance at Rock am Ring and Rock im Park. This step was bitter for both sides in equal measure. And yet it was courageous and absolutely right not to ignore clearly noticeable signs of burnout, but to take them seriously. Noah listened to his own limits. His own inner turmoil, which had become torn between visions, expectations and the noise of the world, made him take a conscious step back. A step that created space – space in which he could work on himself, away from the glare of the public eye.
Between hope and awe
Since August of this year, Bad Omens have released four new songs. These songs revealed a further artistic development with a crystal-clear, emotionally sharpened intensity. Their quality set new standards – they were astonishing and left you deeply moved and overwhelmed at the same time. With these songs in my ears, the quiet expectation that I carried within me that evening in Oberhausen arose: a mixture of hope, nervousness and an almost reverent curiosity. How would Bad Omens return after this break and what aura would Noah unfold – an artist who had reorganized himself?
The prelude
When the lights went out in the Rudolf Weber Arena at 9:10 pm, this feeling floated through the air. More than 12,000 people gazed spellbound at the stage. But before the first sounds filled the room, their eyes wandered sideways to the large screens on which the intro to the new production of the show began. Five cinematic sequences, embedded in an ongoing storyline that ties in with the current music videos and the new songs, structured the concert evening – like chapters of a larger narrative that revealed itself piece by piece before our eyes.
A magical parallel world
The show began with “Specter” – the first song of the new Bad Omens era. A track that already seemed like a departure when it was released in August: the band deleted all the posts on their Instagram account beforehand, followed by three enigmatic reels – a boy in a ghostly cloak, entangled in an intense psychological conversation – and thus opened a door to the dark scene that the music video finally revealed in full force. “Specter” marked the moment when the Americans took their sound to a new level. This song now found its way onto the stage – as a manifesto! The opener began in complete silence. Noah stood alone in the glow of the light to the melancholy sounds of the piano. The ground fog covered his legs like clouds while his crystal-clear voice set in – so unearthly precise that his appearance in the haze seemed almost unreal, as if something from another world was stepping out of the shadows. Goosebumps covered my body. Cheers erupted and broke the tension in the arena. One by one, Nick Folio took his place on drums, while Nicholas Ruffilo and Joakim “Jolly” Karlsson entered the stage on bass and guitar. As the chorus began, opulent columns of fog shot up into the air, while bright daylight bathed the entire stage in a glaring, shimmering white. Along with the lines “Because I’ve kept my distance, it just made it worse / But I’ve learned to live with the way that it hurts”, Noah sank to his knees. As the sequence built up, he marked the last word of the haunting passage with a single, drawn-out scream! Embedded in the massive sound, the words hit with full force. Lost in thought, the frontman let himself be carried by the sound and spread his arms wide – an image of pure devotion that further ignited the cheers in the audience. Determined, he stepped to the edge of the stage and looked into the crowd: “Do you feel love? I know, I don’t.”
Optical power
The stage itself was tapered to match the triangular aesthetic of the gigantic ceiling elements; behind it, a huge LED wall stretched across the entire rear. A multi-layered construction of LED triangles spanned above it: six massive LED elements were arranged in a 1-2-3 formation under an additional, dominant triangle high above the action – a futuristic pyramid of light and moving images. The triangles not only functioned as lighting units, but also as projection surfaces on which abstract visuals pulsated into one another. At the back of the stage, a raised platform stretched across the entire width of the stage. The drum set was enthroned in the middle – a clear architectural center that bundled the production and gave it additional impact. The visuals intensified emotions, skillfully creating atmosphere and depth – without distracting from the action on stage. A masterpiece.
Pit ahead!
As if nothing significant had just happened, Noah took the floor and indicated an abrupt change of direction: “Can you give me a fucking circle pit?” He didn’t have to ask his fans a second time. As if on command, a powerful vortex formed, which expanded with every second and visibly enraptured Noah between his shouts: “Let’s keep moving. Let’s go!” “Glass Houses”, a furious, relentless track from their 2016 debut album, burst forth – a song that deals with betrayal and false friends and yet stands for strength and self-assertion. Blasts of fire and bursts of fog alternated in time while Noah gleefully conducted the thousand voices of his metal choir.
Collective vulnerability
After the unleashed energy of “Glass Houses”, Noah turned his focus to the crowd. Again and again, he deliberately sought eye contact with his fans, mirroring their gazes instead of looking over the heads of the crowd. This kind of perception created an unexpectedly strong bond – a silent exchange that ran through the arena like an unspoken promise. “My friends, welcome to ‘The Drain’.” The song, originally written in collaboration with HEALTH and SWARM, opened another chapter of the evening: sustained, melancholic, breathy. An emotional descent that tells of exhaustion, dependency and the creeping loss of self. Live, this heaviness unfolded with an honesty that was second to none. Noah’s voice came across as almost fragile – angelic in its clarity, but at the same time infused with a deep inner exhaustion. Many fans identify strongly with the intimacy of this song, with its desperation, with the feeling of being stuck in a relationship or a situation that is slowly swallowing you up. “Make some noise, my friends.” His words didn’t sound like a simple plea, but a sincere thank you to the people before him.
Emotional quake
A concentrated calm then settled over the arena. The stage changed to a deep, pulsating red that vibrated in the room like a heartbeat. Noah was now with himself and seemed as if he had to feel the gravity of what was to follow before he released it into the arena. “The Death of Peace of Mind.” A song that means a lot to the fans. A confession. A mirror. A wound. Noah recited the first lines with a calmness of soul. He felt every moment, every syllable, as if he was reliving the weight of his own words. At first, he stood almost alone in the sound space – accompanied only by Nick, whose drums lay throbbing beneath the surface. Only later did Jolly and Nicholas join in with the riffs, and the song began to unfold its full, darkly glittering form. Noah’s voice fluctuated between tenderness and burning despair, between resignation and pleading longing. You could feel in every nuance the haunting meaning of the song about a love that simultaneously combines addiction, pain, dependency and self-destruction. The iconic lines “Love’s the death of peace of mind” permeated the arena with emotional force. Cheers broke through the silence. A stream of emotions gathered and condensed – until the drama finally reached its climax: fierce bursts of fire shot into the sky of the hall, while the breakdown rolled across the stage like a mental landslide. A moment of pure catharsis.
Association
After this emotional quake, the tension remained palpable. And that’s exactly what Bad Omens took advantage of. “It’s a new one. Oberhausen, make some noise!” As the first notes of “Dying To Love” rang out, a soundscape opened up that was touching from the very first moment. The guitars seemed more present than before, clearer, almost cutting – until Noah’s voice came in and bathed everything in a softer light. The gentleness in his voice really got to you. Tender, warm, vulnerable – and in the next breath carried by an urgency that penetrated deep into the marrow. Thousands of voices sang the chorus with passion, and it seemed as if the longing of this song ran through the arena like a common pulse. Noah absorbed this energy, almost surprised at how much the audience had already internalized the new song. You could see how much he enjoyed the fans going through this song with him. His own movements also flowed naturally – carried by an inner detachment that made this moment so special. Especially live, the meaning of this song unfolded in all its depth.
Coronation in chaos
“Concrete Jungle” could not be missing from the set. Even before the song opened, Nicholas and Jolly framed Nick in the gallery and created an energetic force field. The song began sensually tender. Noah stood in the semi-darkness, his hands gently caught by the stage light: slim, elegant, covered in fine tattoos that ran across his skin like living lines with every movement. The way he used them – calmly, gracefully, almost drawing – caused audible sighs in the front rows. The intro to the song carries this hovering, latent pressure: a mixture of dark electronics, subliminal anger and modern metalcore aesthetics. In terms of content, it’s about the feeling of living in a world that wants to shape you until there’s nothing left of your own – and about escaping these expectations, whatever the cost. And it was precisely this inner conflict that caused the band to explode. The sound began to thicken; the synth pads became heavier, the guitar sounds darker and significantly heavier. Everything came together – until Noah suddenly burst forward and shattered the silence with a primal scream: “AND I’M THE FUCKING KING!” At the same moment, the guitars crashed in full force, bursts of flame shot up and the crowd went wild! Noah roared towards us full of energy: “I can’t fucking hear you!” It was an outburst for everyone, a liberation, a collective scream.
Standing still is not an option
And the energy level remained high: Noah called for more circle pits for “Nowhere to Go” – and Oberhausen delivered! The song itself, a frenzied mix of driving drums, aggressive riffs and an almost panicked urgency, infected everyone. The frenzy that the track carries in the studio – the feeling of having nowhere to go and yet still running – transformed the arena into a seething scene. Nicholas headbanged his mop around wildly while Jolly pounded the heaviest parts of the night out of his strings. Of course, Noah didn’t have to dance to the track alone: The entire hall moved like a massive, pulsating mass. “Alright – keep it moving. I like it.” His smile revealed that the crowd delivered exactly what he had in mind. Then came the moment that many had both dreaded and longed for. Noah took a step back, raised his hand and shouted: “Ok, Oberhausen, I may give you a minute to make a big fucking wall of death. But here is the deal: I want tonight to be the biggest fucking wall of death of this entire tour.
We can do that!” Within a few moments, the crowd parted as if by magic – as if an invisible rift ran through the hall. Two fronts stood waiting opposite each other, with a glint in their eyes that was somewhere between respect and anticipation. Then the bet was made. A shout. A breakaway. Bodies collided playfully, whirled, dived, pushed off again and lost themselves in the scurrying, chaotic ecstasy of the crowd. It wasn’t a fight – it was a collective surplus of adrenaline, a physical expression of pure music. A moment full of vitality.
Collective resistance
To “Limits”, the arena began to bounce in unison. At the same time, the large LED wall was divided into six screens on which the band members could be seen alternately live – fragmented and yet connected, matching the inner turmoil of the song. Noah danced exuberantly across the stage, visibly relaxed, while the track pushed forward with raw directness. “Limits” rocked hard, released endorphins and completely swept the audience away. Noah paused briefly, a smile flitting across his face. “Alright, I love this part. This is the part where I want you to sing as loud as you can.” It wasn’t just a request, but an invitation to become part of this moment. As the iconic lines rang out – “Well, everyone’s listening, and they know the difference / You’re not failing our senses / But you’re pushing my limits” – the crowd sang along even louder than before. The chorus came out with full force, carried by an intensity that took the song far beyond its studio version. Everyone was able to experience what “Limits” is about: false accusations of guilt, manipulative narratives that are used against you – and the strength to stop questioning yourself. Noah didn’t just let us sing along to this inner conflict, he let us experience it. A collective outburst, raw and honest, that showed how closely band and fans were connected in that moment.
Adrenaline rush
Once again, the frontman goaded us on: “Oberhausen, can you fucking hear me?” With “Artificial Suicide”, the energy level finally reached boiling point. The song lives live from its uncompromising directness: a mercilessly driving beat, cold, mechanical heaviness and a tension that doesn’t allow for a break. Inevitably, one’s own pulse rate skyrocketed. White, garish visuals flooded the stage and intensified the feeling of being overwhelmed and losing control, while massive columns of fog shot up in time and further fueled the scene. Everything pushed forward, everything was in motion. The crowd went wild, voices screamed freely, bodies followed the rhythm – “Artificial Suicide” acted like a valve that explosively released the pent-up pressure. “V.A.N.” sharpened the view of a dark present. Originally written for Poppy, Noah effortlessly took over the high vocals himself. The song became the voice of a system that has long since permeated mankind: learning, calculating, omnipresent. A power that promises the future, but in doing so strips away identity, emotion and humanity. The stage was now bathed in a cold, intense green. Cable-like structures stretched across the large LED wall like strands of nerves, while individual eyes peered out from the triangular screens – controlling, watchful, unsettling. Noah directed the crowd with a firm grip: thousands of hands moved up and down in sync before the audience joined in rhythmic clapping – unconsciously becoming part of a system that the song simultaneously exposes.
Untouchable
“What about another new one? This is ‘Left For Good’.” Live, the brilliant newcomer seemed like the logical continuation of everything Bad Omens had hinted at in recent months: vulnerable and powerful at the same time, carried by an intensity that burrowed deep under the skin. Noah lived this song in every second. Usually right at the edge of the stage, his gaze constantly directed towards the audience, he allowed the vocals and screams to merge almost seamlessly – a transition that was extremely impressive in its precision and emotional control. His voice moved between warm fragility and menacing sharpness, as if the song was constantly oscillating between retreat and outburst. This is precisely where its power lies. “Left for Good” is not a clear farewell, but a struggle – between the desire to leave something behind and the realization that pain has long since become part of one’s own identity. This tension was palpable live. Loud cheers erupted from the crowd. Unrelenting bursts of fire heated our faces while Noah spun on his own axis, growled and let go. Their latest single impressively showed where Bad Omens currently stand: uncompromisingly honest, emotionally exposed – and at the same time stronger than ever.
Noticeable lightness
With “Anything > Human”, the quartet opened the room for a special guest moment. “Make some noise for The Ghost Inside. Make some noise for Jonathan Vigil.” In the course of the song, Noah received vocal support from his long-time friend and companion, the singer of the supporting band. Jonathan’s distinctive growls fit seamlessly into the song and gave it additional power. The visible bond between the two was remarkable: Noah matched his movements, mirroring Jonathan’s presence as if they had been on this stage together for years. “Oberhausen, do you wanna dance with us?” The focus shifted to “What Do You Want from Me?”. While Noah sat down casually in the gallery and watched the action while singing with relish, Jolly and Nicholas moved to the edge of the stage together. Live, the song lives from its smooth dynamics: danceable, driving, with a lightness that is immediately translated into movement. The guitar lines interlocked, pulsating and clear, while the crowd picked up the rhythm and let themselves be carried along.
How it all began
“What It Cost” created a deceptive calm in the arena. The melody flowed in Noah’s hips. With calm gestures, he played around the microphone stand while the strings cast a warm, soothing veil over the moment. But the silence didn’t last long. “Bang those fucking heads!” Noah shouted at the crowd – and “Like a Villain” broke out. The song that once drew me to Bad Omens unleashed its pure power live. A red-orange setting bathed the stage in flickering light, lava-like pulsating visuals criss-crossed the screens. Bursts of fire shot up to accompany the furious passages and the pits raged. But this outburst was not without consequences …
Safety First
After the song, the show was interrupted for a few minutes. Noah asked for the lights to be switched on inside. “Some kind of emergency.” He then left the stage and announced that the show could only continue once the situation had been resolved. When he returned, the situation was not yet fully under control. Noah kept a watchful eye on the scene and realized: “Even another flashlight going up here. It’s very confusing up here. Flashlights mean an emergency in this situation, so please don’t do that unless you need help.” Apparently, however, someone else in the audience still needed help. Noah called for another security guard and left the stage again until everyone involved was taken care of. As an artist, being pulled out of your own tunnel in a situation like this is anything but easy. However, Noah mastered this moment calmly, decisively and in an exemplary manner – with a clear focus on safety and responsibility towards his fans.
Cutest Moment
When the situation was fully clarified, Noah lightened the mood: “Any more emergencies before we continue the show? Anyone has to pee or anything? Smoke a cigarette? This is the part where we read all the signs. How are you feeling, my friends? We were Bad Omens. Good to be back. Every time we come to Germany, you go fucking hard – and I love that.” What followed was probably the most charming moment of the evening – and would later make waves on social media. Noah spotted a cell phone wallpaper in the audience and had the phone handed to him. “You guys gotta stop with this shit!” he protested with a laugh. “That is not me!” He held the picture up to the camera so that everyone on the screens could see it: a rubber duck with Noah’s unmistakable brown haircut. The background to this scene: Noah had once used this exact picture himself as his profile picture on Instagram – and fans still love it to this day. Not least because Noah likes to show a wonderfully exaggerated facial expression at certain moments, which comes amazingly close to that little rubber duck. Laughing, he added: “Does this look like me? Get the fuck at home!” The arena erupted in highly amused laughter. An unplanned moment full of self-irony – and further proof of how approachable Noah seemed that evening.
Let there be light
Amidst the crowd, Noah discovered a Christmas-themed sign, decorated with a small string of lights, which he clearly liked. At the same time, he spoke openly about the new dimension of this tour: “It’s our first touring in rooms this size and it does feel new being so far away.” He looked reverently at the upper tiers and asked whether everyone was really comfortable. Then the show picked up speed again. Noah turned to the audience again, invited them to sing along and announced with a quiet smile: “You might know this one.” With “Just Pretend”, a huge sea of lights emerged as if of its own accord, which gently spread through the arena. Thousands of displays lit up out of a shared impulse. Carried by voices that knew every line and sang them with a grace that moved. Noah gave the voices enough space. “Just Pretend” was a collective pause – a song that draws its power from closeness, even in an arena of this size.
The return
“Impose” provided the most introspective part of the evening. The stage was bathed in dark blue, Noah was only dimly visible. The new song seemed like an inner monologue – carried by electronic coldness, a driving, drum’n’bass-like pulse, which he completely surrendered to until the tension became more and more intense. In terms of content, “Impose” condenses into a painful core: the feeling of being a burden to others, of perceiving oneself as a disruptive factor and pushing people away from oneself as a precaution. “I push everyone away” – Noah seemed introverted, as if he was singing against his own thoughts. But then the moment broke open. “Make some fucking noise for Gabi Rose!” The saxophonist from the support band Bilmuri entered the stage and set a completely unexpected accent with her instrument. At the same time, columns of fog appeared while shiny blue and white tinsel rain shot up over the crowd. Fans looked up in surprise, catching snippets to take home as little treasures of memories – like little pieces of evidence that this moment was real. In the middle of the action, Noah suddenly left the stage. He appeared in the pit directly (!) in front of the fans, moved through the shower of tinsel and sought Closeness. Contrary to the album version, he broke out into raw screams, blurting out the line “Do I Impose?”. As he strode along people, he grabbed hands and held eye contact. Excited screams mingled with the music, the distance between artist and audience completely dissolved. And then … then there was silence. The official part of the set was over. And this moment had to be processed first anyway.
In the inferno
Sustained cheers brought Bad Omens back for their final song. Noah, who had previously worn a high-necked black shirt, now reappeared with sweaty hair in a black tank top. Full of passion, the familiar interplay between crowd and singer began immediately. Spurred on, Noah and the audience shouted the words “Concrete” and “Jungle” back and forth. But that wasn’t enough for the frontman.
“Louder! I said louder! Sing it with your chest! This is ‘Dethrone’.” As the stage was once again bathed in deep red tones for the closer, it was already clear what was to follow: the final demolition par excellence. To the sound of guitars weighing tons, Noah dropped to the floor with one knee, stretched his head back and growled everything to rubble with full physical exertion. Fog and fire combined as the arena erupted into complete escalation. Together they screamed the iconic lines: “Here am I, take me to the pearly gates / So I can look you in the eye when I spit in your face.” “Make some fucking noise!”
Completely euphoric, the band finally left us after 90 minutes with Noah’s final words: “I’m the fucking king!” Whoa. That did it!
Fall of the Wall
The musicians returned one last time to throw goodies into the crowd. But it didn’t stop there. Noah returned to the pit. With a beaming smile, he clapped countless hands and took the time to sign autographs on arms. You could see how comfortable he felt, how much he enjoyed being back among the people to whom the art of his band means so much. Could this evening end any better?
Noah’s aura resonated over everything – unreal, absolutely sincere and carried by an intensity that was almost impossible to grasp and yet permeated everything. Bad Omens sparked something that is difficult to name and yet has a profound effect: As if by magic, a cleansing feeling set in – quietly, insidiously, as if something was being exposed that you didn’t even know was slumbering beneath the surface before. Many fans left the arena not simply moved. They seemed liberated. And even days later, this evening continued to reverberate. Bad Omens are back – like a phoenix from the ashes! Purified, grown, with new clarity. The thunderstorm was followed by a warm sunrise. Eyes light up, hearts shine. And we are already looking longingly towards June 2026: with two more German concerts in Düsseldorf and Leipzig as well as appearances at Rock am Ring and Rock im Park – the band is returning to us as the top act on the second stage. The tour title posed the question: “Do You Feel Love?” This line from the song “Specter” keeps buzzing through my head. After this evening, the answer is clear. Oh yes, you can feel it – stronger than ever! In the music, in the regained closeness, in the authenticity of the band. And sometimes exactly where you didn’t know you needed it.
Setlist:
“Specter” – “Glass Houses” – “The Drain” – “The Death of Piece of Mind” – “Dying to Love” – “Concrete Jungle” – “Nowhere to Go” – “Limits” – “Artificial Suicide” – “V.A.N.” – “Left For Good” – “Anything > Human” – “What Do You Want from Me?” – “What It Cost” – “Like a Villain” – “Just Pretend” – “Impose” — “Dethrone”
Text: Nadine Kloppert
Photos: Bryan Kirks
