The big review: Damnation 2025

‘If you build it, they will come.’ Rarely has that mantra proved truer than for Damnation Festival.

Twenty years since a rag-tag group of metal maniacs were united by the vision of a gathering for fans of all things extreme, their brainchild has expanded into the biggest indoor heavy music festival in the world. Back then, booking Raging Speedhorn and Entombed for the 1,300-cap Jilly’s Rockworld in Manchester felt unbelievably renegade, both in terms of outsider vision and their defiantly DIY execution. Having travelled up the M62 to Leeds University, then back again to expand into the cavernous Bowlers Exhibition Centre out in Stretford in the interim, we are a long way from those humble beginnings. But the mission to deliver an event that’s weird and heavy – curated on its own terms by the fans, for the fans – is every bit as vital and urgent in this moment as it ever was.

Anniversary celebrations mean an expansion across two days in 2025. Well, three if you count Friday’s ‘A Night Of Salvation’ pre-show over at The Bread Shed, which sold out immediately without even announcing that festival favourites Deadguy, Stampin’ Ground, Conjurer and Speedhorn would be on hand to deliver special full-album sets. Saturday is dedicated to newcomers playing the festival for the first time. Then Sunday is built around a host of veterans representing and celebrating the long journey up to this point.

Wrapping our mitts around a double-pint of lager and headbanging into oblivion, we bring you all the highlights from the heaviest birthday bash ever…

There are many ways to fire the starting gun on Damnation. Derby diabolists Devastator choose to do it by arriving onstage wielding an enormous scythe and launching into a blasphemous thrash assault. "Do you motherfuckers like it fast, or do you like it slow?" asks singer/bassist Tom Collings, returning the unsurprising result: "The fasts have it." And they're very, very good at fast, a Nifelheim-like mix of speed, evil and shout-along melody. At noon, we're as far from the actual witching hour as it's possible to get, but as an impressed George Clarke from Deafheaven looks on as the band look like they're playing in Hell under the red lights, they prove it's never too early to do Lucifer's work. Delightfully devilish, Devastator. (NR)

Damnation isn’t just a metal festival these days. It’s a point underlined by having Irish instrumentalists Overhead, The Albatross open the massive main stage. There’s room within these walls for everything from trippy prog to expansive post-rock as long as it resonates, and songs like Your Last Breath, I’ve Got A Few Years Left and Paul Lynch are overwhelming in their poignancy and intensity even before lunchtime, backed by massive audio-visual production, and performed by some of the most impassioned players you’ll ever meet. Just a few months since unexpected passing of beloved festival organiser Brian Fitzpatrick, it reminds us to cherish memories of those we hold dear. (SL)

Looking like an ’80s kids cartoon come to life, and sounding like a more theatrical Sabbath, Castle Rat are one of the weekend’s most eagerly-awaited turns. They are, our Rat Queen Riley Pinkerton informs the enormous crowd, “On a mission to expand and defend our realm from those who wish to destroy it,” and their “arch nemesis has pursued us across time and space”. Quite why they’d want to destroy the Brooklyn quartet is a mystery, as DRAGON and WIZARD from their recent The Bestiary album are killer classic metal where there’s no amount of hamminess that’s too much. And anyway, it’s not every day you see a band decked out in plague masks and horns. Or, indeed, attacked onstage by an enormous Rat Reaperess. Silly? Absolutely. But even their knowingly ramshackle antics can’t overshadow their riffs when they hit full power. (NR)

Deadguy looked like they’d emptied the tanks on Friday night with a run-through of excellent new album Near-Death Travel Services at A Night of Salvation. Not so, apparently. Spooling back three decades, they find plenty more sonic chaos for their main festival set. Manchester might be 3,000 miles from New Jersey, but an absolutely rammed stage makes Tim Singer and the boys feel mightily at home. Cuts like Doom Patrol or Pins & Needles from 1995's classic Fixation On A Co-Worker felt absolutely unhinged on first release, but the adulation pulsating through this afternoon proves their fire is burning even brighter 30 years down the line. (SL)

Even Irish rap-punk Meryl Streek knows he's not the usual Damnation fare, being "a dickhead with a backing track". This isn't a problem for him, though, because "this project is about what I'm saying". And he has an awful lot to speak about. In between samples of news reports, he gives out about inequality, the Catholic church, bastard landlords and plenty else, as well as his usual heartwarming tribute to his Uncle Paddy. Out of step as he might seem on this line-up, he's charming and abrasive in equal measure, and his visceral anger, shouty charisma and the way he so clearly means every word are enough to endear, even getting a wall of death at the end. A surprise, to be sure, but a welcome one. (NR)

Messa are an awkward fit for Saturday afternoon’s main stage. The Italian doomsters are fixated quite firmly on destiny and, ahem, damnation. They’re rising fast, too, still riding the wave of adulation triggered on their recent support run with the mighty Paradise Lost. On the other hand, though, their music is inherently weird and unwieldy, demanding patience and chin-stroking attention rather than the restless gaze of a crowd still getting the beers in. The knotty majesty of Fire On The Roof and Thicker Blood – switching between glassy beauty and gut-wrenching heft – is in no doubt, but it’s better suited to three in the morning than three in the afternoon. (SL)

Inhabiting the arty, straight-faced outer reaches of modern extreme metal, Portrayal Of Guilt are not accustomed to rooms the size of Damnation’s gaping second stage. You wouldn’t guess it, though, as the Texas grindcore crew crank the volume and set about sonically scouring thousands of faces off. The infernal promise they wield with The Sixth Circle, Burning Hand and devil music is translated impressively onstage, transforming a relatively sterile warehouse into a scene of magnificent modern gothic. Meanwhile, a legion of devotees happily hand themselves over to the fire. (SL)

Arriving in the middle of a massive European tour, Damnation feels less of big deal for Orbit Culture than many of the bands around them today. Still, the Swedes’ performance chimes loudly with the festival’s vision of putting legitimately gnarly music on the biggest platform possible. Given the host of killer music videos they made for this year’s excellent fifth album Death Above Life, it’s a little disappointing that they don’t take advantage of the huge visual production on offer, instead opting for a dark, futuristic lighting option. But the impact of Bloodhound and Hydra is still absolutely huge. (SL)

Named after an obscure form of torture from the middle ages – basically crushing the recipients legs to a bloody mush – it’s unsurprising that Tennessee death metallers Brodequin do not stint on the brutality. Even so, the tide of absolutely relentless blastbeats unleashed by drummer Brennan Shackelford is awesome to behold, pulverising a rammed Holy Goat Brewing Stage for the best part of an hour. Claiming victory by sheer force, bludgeoning nuggets Trial By Ordeal and Spinning In Agony are indeed aptly-titled, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be the soundtrack to a bloody good time. (SL)

At a festival built predominantly on riffs, High On Fire still stand in a field of one. The sight of Matt Pike's massive amps is by now a familiar one, but it's lost none of its ability to excite. Indeed, other than perhaps Hellripper bloke James McBain, nobody here this weekend visibly has as much fun with his axe as the bare-chested frontman. Nobody else has quite the same Beavis And Butt-Head level of understanding of what a riff should be, either. The hammering Fury Whip and Rumors Of War (a song with the same power as two Motörheads playing next to one another) are immensely heavy tonight, like a volcanic eruption through a fuzz pedal, given extra beef by having Converge's Ben Koller behind the drum kit. Matt says little beyond bellowing the next song's name, and there's no Devilution, but the searing leads of Snakes For The Divine are treat enough, doing the talking for him. He remains one of metal's most sweatily unreconstructed presences as well, dripping perspiration into his enormous handlebar ’tache, before firing out a pair of snot-rockets. More time would have been nice, but when they're on form like this, that's greedy. (NR)

Scheduled for 45 minutes, GosT actually perform for a little under 30, but they’ve got the good grace to make sure anything they lack in quantity is more than made up for in body-bumping quality. Last time the American darkwave supremo and his instrumental assistants rocked up at Damnation was for the late-night aftershow in 2019, and there is an argument that cuts like Maleficarium and Digital Death would be better deployed after midnight again here. But with a massive, immaculate sound system and the black-clad legions itching to throw shapes, it’s always a good time for them to bring the beats. (SL)

Deafheaven are old hands at the BEC, having played here a couple of times at Outbreak. They go down even better at Damnation, with the biggest crowd of the festival in 2025 packing the main room to soak in the scourging blackgaze and unsettling intimacy of outstanding sixth album Lonely People With Power. Once a cold, distanced performer, George Clarke is visibly warmer and more connected to his audience this afternoon, goading everyone into action from the stage. Even better, the power of Doberman, Magnolia and spectacular closer Winona suggests the Californians’ return here as headliners can’t be far away. (SL)

It's a scrum to get into the room housing the Holy Goat Brewing Stage for Wormrot. It's entirely deserved. Not only are the Singaporean grinders experts in their field, they're back with vocalist Arif Rot and drummer Fitri, making this UK return double special. Arif jokes that Pig Destroyer watching in the wings are "judging us", but it's more likely they're getting worried by just how hard they'll have to go to keep up themselves. No One Gives A Shit, The Darkest Burden and Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Grind are monstrous, with a sound that turns them into something from a nuclear test site (with blastbeats). It's like being caught in a boiling kettle. "You wanna relax? Calm down?" Absolutely not. Fortunately, both are impossible if Wormrot have anything to do with it. Good. (NR)

Gothenburg post-rock veterans EF offer a little respite late in the day, threading lines of cello through expansive instrumentals drenched in feeling and nostalgia. Layer after layer of texture and emotion build into soundscapes as detailed and poignant as Moments Of Momentum and Bells Bleed & Bloom. True, real aficionados of the genre struggle to find elements they’ve not seen before, from the emotive vintage home film roll playing out on the screens to so many climactic crescendos tugging at the heartstrings. But more than two decades into their journey it would be harsh to criticise genre tropes this band helped shape. (SL)

And now, time to dance. Which is expected, but the speed with which French synthwave terror Perturbator has the BEC getting down is quite something. The futuristic sci-fi synths of Neo Tokyo set the tone, backed by a massive lights and visuals show that moves you from autumnal Manchester to a neon cyberworld. With just main-brain James Kent behind a bank of keyboards, and drummer XXXX onstage, held in place by necessity, it could feel sparse. Then their individual risers start sliding across the stage. New cuts like the Ulver-voiced Apocalypse Now and irresistibly bass-heavy The Art Of War from brilliant recent album Age Of Aquarius sound immense, while the throbbing post-punk of Excess is about as raw as this stuff could ever get. Venger, meanwhile, takes things into pure dance territory, with its seductive bass and sultry vocals. All the while, arses are shaking, caught up in Perturbator's futuristic magic. It's quite the comedown when the lights come back up. (NR)

Meme lords online have started sharing photoshops of Gaerea’s swirly, circular sigil swapped out for the Pizza Express logo, but the Portuguese terrors more than match the banter with a set to really get your teeth into. An outfit from the underground with sights set firmly on heavy music’s grandest stages, they relish the production laid out for them, with split screens, haunting visuals and massive sound complementing their regulation head-bags and black body paint. Coupled with the devilish power of bangers like Hellbound and Mirage, they have the already power and self-belief to become one of black metal’s biggest-ever bands. (SL)

There is a certain genius in booking Corrosion Of Conformity to headline. This being a European one-off for the Raleigh riff lords is a treat, for sure, but the main thing is that as the hour hand reaches 11pm at the end of a day featuring every shade of heaviness and (for most) an awful lot of lager, seeing them busting out Vote With A Bullet and Clean My Wounds is just the job. True, plenty of folk drift off into the night as the show goes on, but it changes nothing. "You motherfuckers like heavy shit?" bellows Pepper Keenan. Duh. Their languid grooves and delicious guitar tones set the mood brilliantly, particularly during My Grain and Who's Got The Fire?, while Pepper himself is a vibe, all slacker charm and southern drawl, riffing away like it ain't no thing. "This shit's rippin'!" he declares, noting the difference 240 lovely British volts make to his amp as he pulls out the rolling riff to Albatross, before a nod to Judas Priest's Victim Of Changes. Same goes, sir. (NR)

Perpetually pestering festival organisers on the Facebook forum, there was a time when it felt like a running joke that Hidden Mothers mainman Liam Knowles had never managed to get onstage at Damnation. Their awesome opening set on Sunday isn’t long in smacking any last smirks off doubters’ faces. Hinging on the interplay between Liam and guitarist/vocalist Luke Scrivens, the meld of black metal, post-rock and emo in Defanged, Still Sickness and Death Curl is a gorgeous, moving way to ease through the bangovers into a stacked final day. Always a band worth seeking out. (SL)

Fair play, Conjurer. There aren’t many acts who could absolutely level the Friday night pre-show with a crushing playthrough of their beloved Mire debut, then somehow better it early-doors on Sunday. Still, with a stack of fresh cuts from excellent third album Unself and captivating video production that feels like a cross between a lava lamp and an endoscopy, Brady Deeprose and the gang absolutely knock it out of the park. Special mention to a gut-churning Hang Them In Your Head for threatening to make the more fragile in attendance involuntarily empty their bowels. Such good shit! (SL)

Amongst the UK’s alternative’s most underrated, Din Of Celestial Birds pick up where Hidden Mothers left off, then explore even deeper levels of anguish and enchantment. Somewhat softer and more cerebral than many of their contemporaries, it’s remarkable how quickly and closely they connect with an audience whose heads are still spinning from yesterday’s chaos. And while a smattering of new material suggests rich seams of inspiration still to be mined, the easy power of Downpour and I Love You But It’s Killing Me win the day. (SL)

Playing his first full show with Onslaught in over six years, the Bristol brutalists' definitive frontman Sy Keeler could be forgiven for easing himself back in at Damnation. Of course, that was never really going to be an option. Grabbing this year’s classic thrash slot (slaught?) by the collar and duly kicking the shit out of everyone in attendance, Metal Forces, Thermonuclear Devastation and Angels Of Death get a non-stop circle-pit revving and crowdsurfers being hurled right over the heads of the front rows. A cover of Motörhead’s Iron Fist might just be the most old-school fan-service of the whole festival, but as they mark 40 years since their own debut with an overload of Power From Hell, absolutely no-one here begrudges them harking back to their brutal beginnings. Superb. (SL)

"The name of the game," explains Adam Frakes-Sime, "is to see how many teeth the cleaning staff have to pick up afterwards." Watching Stampin’ Ground has always been a contact sport, but the return of the UKHC heroes almost 20 years since they first called it quits, and their sets at Damnation and Friday's Night Of Salvation coming over a decade since their last couple of reunion gigs, means today is an even more gloriously rough and tumble affair than usual. Nostalgia is a hell of a drug, but there's not a whiff of it anywhere, as Mid Death Crisis, Outside Looking In and a venomous Everybody Owes A Death land their punches with fresh, fierce, timeless aggression. Festival big boss Gav McInally is grinning his face off in the wings, possibly more than a man liable for a wall of death that stretches all the way to the sound desk might. But it's also the only reasonable reaction to a song so perfect for it as Officer Down. Great to have them back, but don't think they've got softer with age. (NR)

From the mindblowing mix-up of hardcore, punk and ecstatic noise-rock, to taking a moment to lament the fact that some of their Swiss countrymen are shareholders in the corporate machines that have made the modern world into an unfolding disaster, Coilguns are quite unlike anyone else at Damnation. Or any other festival. Marking a year of brilliant fourth album Odd Love with a concussive Venetian Blinds and claustrophobic Bunker Vaults, the band who started as an offshoot from parish favourites The Ocean now feel essential on their own off-kilter terms. Fire away. (SL)

Ten years since they last graced Damnation's stage, the return of Irish underground metal legends Primordial is cause for celebration. The screens may give the impression that someone called 'Ordia' are playing, but there's no mistaking corpsepainted frontman AA Nemtheanga as he arrives and leads his brethren into the epic, cautionary As Rome Burns. Always a charismatic presence, he's on particularly fiery form today, gesticulating his way through Gods To The Godless like a frenzied preacher. A song as solemn as The Coffin Ships is perhaps not the first thought for a room this size, but the burning emotion at its heart carries it brilliantly. And if its more direct metal you want, there's always thunderous closer Empire Falls to bring things to a headbanging close. "Are you with us?" demands Nemtheanga more than once. Always. (NR)

Another Damnation participant of very long standing, Raging Speedhorn bring a mid-afternoon dose of knuckle-sandwich riffs and party aggro to proceedings, as ever. It's actually easy to forget what a precise wrecking machine the Corby bruisers can be. Then again, they've destroyed the joint so many times they'd naturally have become quite good at it. From the moment they open with the Black Flag-via-Northamptonshire thump of The Hate Song, the pit turns into a fight club, as Speedhorn deliver a truly enjoyable kicking. While Frank Regan is enough of an imposing presence, it's his counterpart Daniel Cook who's the loose cannon, running across the stage before chucking himself into the pandemonium out front. Superscud's one-two riff is still a superb example of how damaging a simple groove can be, while the speedy ending of The Gush is gloriously violent. It can be easy to forget how good Speedhorn can be. Maybe it's the concussion… (NR)

“I’m glad you’re making these security guys earn their pay cheques,” grins Pig Destroyer frontman J.R. Hayes as the Virginia grindcore stalwarts send the audience over the top on Sunday afternoon. Now on their second stop at Bowlers’ colossal main stage, a little of the novelty of seeing 5,000 lunatics losing their shit for such an unequivocally underground band might have worn off, but the visceral experience of being battered in the middle of it all is perhaps even more intense. From unsettling computerised spoken-word, to the unrivalled skin-ripping intensity of Cheerleader Corpses, Satology Homework and Junkyard God, it’s strong stuff. But there’s plenty to cast a wry smile at, too, like the surreally long queue for the hog roast van afterwards. (SL)

Before Hellripper have properly started their first song, frontman James McBain is down at the barrier, guitar in hand, smashing a beer against his head. Somehow, brilliant as this is, it isn't the most thrash thing that happens. With an obsession with speed and goats, the Scottish quartet's stripe of metal is diabolically brilliant anyway, but the mayhem that greets them today is ramped up even higher than normal. "Are you ready for some rock’n’roll?" he asks, turning up the Motörhead for Hell's Rock’N’Roll, which is an unnecessary question to an audience that's just thrown up a crowdsurfing goat. All Hail The Goat proves aptly named, while the thrashing mania of the excellently-named Blood Orgy Of The She-Devils, Goat Vomit Nightmare and Bastard Of Hades incites complete pandemonium. Going to Hell probably isn't that fun, but Hellripper make it sound like a right laugh. As they close with a frankly bananas number of crowdsurfers going over the barrier, you realise you'd probably follow them there to find out. Be a great night out, either way. (NR)

A full two days of Damnation will take it out of you. So it is that as festival regulars Anaal Nathrakh hit the stage at dinner time, a weary madness is starting to set in for some. This survives all of about three seconds, as the Birmingham grind extraordinaires give an almighty kick up the arse that's as invigorating as waking up to find your duvet ablaze. More Of Fire And Blood and In The Constellation Of The Black Widow are exhibit A and B for how weirdly, joyously cathartic such aggressive and unapologetically horrible music can be, while jolly frontman Dave Hunt's dedication of Obscene As Cancer to late At The Gates singer Tomas Lindberg is oddly touching. Elsewhere, his bellow of 'It'll all be over by Christmas' during the horrific World War I snapshot of Forward! is particularly chilling on Remembrance Sunday. Mostly, though, they are a scalding blast of euphoric metal that leaves you feeling strangely cleansed. Two decades ago, they reckoned they'd never play live. Once again, it's a very good thing that turned out to be a load of balls. (NR)

If GosT and Perturbator raised the bar in terms of the sheer fun of electronic sets at Damnation on Saturday, Author & Punisher sets a new standard for sheer intensity on Sunday evening. Mechanical engineer and groundbreaking artist Tristan Shone might just be one man up on the stage, but wrapped in one-of-a-kind equipment to meld the biological, mechanical and electrical, he wields almost elemental power. Seriously, the steps are shuddering under fans feet as more and more give in to the gravitational pull of Nihil Strength and Terrorbird. And even after the set has finished, the vibrations rattle on through eardrums and down into the darkest corners of the soul. (SL)

As they approach their 30th anniversary, despite a fluid approach to line-ups, The Haunted are still a precision-tooled arse-kicking machine. And being veterans of the second ever Damnation bash in 2006 at Jilly's Rockworld, they bring with them a bit of fest history as well. Marco Aro both looks and sounds like he's trying to burst his head open as he stresses and strains through 99 and D.O.A., while stuff from 2000's never-bettered The Haunted Made Me Do It like Trespass and a the vacuum-packed tightness of Bury Your Dead are a fist-shaped reminder of just what a massive footprint they've left. Signing off with a furious Hate Song, it's a final black eye from a band still capable of delivering a knockout blow. (NR)

For Quebecois aristocratic black metallers Spectral Wound, times are currently very good indeed. Earlier this year they delivered a masterclass in high-minded blasphemy when they appeared at London's Incineration. Tonight, with an air of what might be called arrogance were it possible for that to be a virtue, they underline exactly why they're the talk of the underground. Frontman Jonah Campbell has still not quenched his Diabolic Thirst, slugging heartily at an array of bottles and cans when not called on to scream, adding to the decadent vibe of the music. They are a relentless surge of thrilling darkness, perfectly balancing an intelligent, imposing skill and artistic flair with absolute violence and animalistic emotion, fittingly using barbed-wire melody as a way into their aggressive world. May your thirst never be sated. Not if it keeps you like this. (NR)

Anyone needing proof that Belgian post-metal legends Amenra merit this year’s main stage subheadline slot need only look at the insane queue as their merch is unpacked earlier in the day. Such fanaticism is understandable. Twenty years since their first full studio album, and 25 since they got going in the first place, the West Flanders collective have benchmarked a sonic darkness that envelops and overwhelms. The long shadows of Salve Mater, A Solitary Reign and Am Kreuz scratch and tug at the soul on record, but there’s something transcendental about taking them in as part of a crowd of this size: the sense that like their Egyptian sort-of namesake Amun-Ra, they have become supreme gods of their particular congregation. Bow down. (SL)

If you ever want to feel really, really sad, Watching From A Distance by Warning is just the ticket. Or it would be if the deep, aching melancholy and longing at the heart of the British doom legends' magnum opus didn't translate so gloriously live. The emotional weight of the title-track and Bridges makes it still some of the most utterly bereft music ever written, and softly-spoken frontman Patrick Walker still sounds like a man who couldn't be more isolated if he were on the moon, but singing along becomes surprisingly and intensely uplifting. If it's possible for a riff to sound upset, then the gorgeous and haunting heavy melodies that make up Bridges are it, particularly when Patrick mournfully laments that 'I wish that you were with me tonight'. Endearingly, he gives his heartfelt appreciation that music can endure in this way even after such a long time, and it truly is a wonderful thing that music this brilliantly realised can be celebrated like this. There are tears from some, but there are drunken sing-alongs from just as many. Both are equally valid. What an album, what a band, what a pleasure. (NR)

It’s already been a long, punishing weekend as clocks swing toward 10pm, but Damnation 2025 has a hell of a sting in its tail. Taking their name from the Dutch for Sudden Infant Death Syndrome and playing their De Doden Hebben Het Goed (‘The Dead Have It Good’) trilogy in its two hour entirety, Wiegedood are the sort of demons who always hit like a steamroller and burn like fire. As much as it would be a stretch to call their marathon assault ‘enjoyable’ in any traditional sense, it is invigorating and unforgettable on its own unrepentant terms, destined to live long in festival legend. (SL)

On paper, with 5,000-odd tickets shifted, Napalm Death’s appearance is their biggest-ever headline show. In reality, splitting their crowd with Weigedood and losing a hefty portion of fatigued audience members to the lure of their beds mean they’re not quite playing the full house that some had expected. For tireless frontman Barney Greenway – looking leaner and meaner than we’ve seen him in years – counting footfall through the door is nowhere near as important as making sure that every last person who does turn out is pummelled into submission. And even with iconic bassist Shane Embury absent, that’s what they do. Everything from Multinational Corporations and Silence Is Deafening, to Suffer The Children and Prison Without Walls is on point this evening, ripping faces off left, right and centre.

In a world where fewer and fewer bands seem willing to speak their minds for fear of backlash, it’s thrilling to see Nazi Punks Fuck Off delivered with full-bore righteousness. And the sheer fury of cataclysmic closer Contagion isn’t just a jolt for this knackered room. It’s a promise that Napalm Death will keep grinding away and tirelessly fighting the good fight until the wheels fall off.

Likewise, having lived up to promises of a bigger, bolder, more balls-out iteration than ever before, Damnation 2025 is proof that this festival has what it takes to keep expanding and breaking new ground for extreme music on the world stage. The dates for 2026 are set. So grab a ticket and strap in for a trip into the heart of darkness. As always, we’ll be there, banging heads down the front. (SL)

Damnation Festival will return to Manchester’s BEC on November 7 – 8, 2026.

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