There are few figures in heavy music history who can credibly claim to have changed its trajectory forever. But on a chilly Friday the 13th in Sydney, one of them stood beneath swirling lights, commanding the stage at The Factory Theatre. The dry lung vocal martyr himself, Burton C. Bell, reminded us all why his name is etched into the DNA of industrial metal.

Back in 1992, Bell and Fear Factory unleashed Soul of a New Machine, pioneering a now-ubiquitous blend of guttural screams and soaring clean vocals. That once-unthinkable duality is now a genre staple, echoed by thousands. Tonight, Burton stood not as a relic, but a revitalised force – fronting a blisteringly tight band of young, hungry musicians, with a fire that felt anything but nostalgic.

The venue buzzed with anticipation. At precisely 9:30pm, the house lights dropped and AC/DC’s Hells Bells rang out ominously. Crimson beams spun across the crowd as the band emerged. Burton followed moments later, arms raised, grinning.

“I am Burton C. Bell… and I told you I’d be back.”

The crowd cheered as they tore into the opening track, Anti Droid – heavy, groovy, dark and moody with his signature aggression, setting the tone for a night steeped in legacy and rebirth.

He didn’t waste time honouring the past, diving straight into Dog Day Sunrise, the Head of David cover immortalised on Demanufacture (1995). Many fans wearing vintage FF merch, grinned as they shouted every word back at him. Then came a curveball: Drive Boy, Shooting, from Plastic Planet, the 1995 album by Black Sabbath’s Geezer Butler, which featured Bell on vocals. Multiple leather jacket clad metal heads pushed through to the front of the stage with fists in the sky.

Bell’s new project is still unfolding but Technical Exorcism, the first song written by this lineup, sounded like a manifesto. His vocals were razor sharp, every growl and note perfectly controlled. During one especially guttural passage, I turned in awe to my partner… only to find everyone else wearing the same wide-eyed expression. It was that powerful.

One of the most unexpected and thrilling moments came when he dipped into his City of Fire catalogue, his underrated heavy rock outfit that released two criminally slept-on records. When he introduced Hanya with a grin “This one’s for the five chicks in the crowd!”, I genuinely couldn’t believe I was finally hearing those songs live.

The set’s emotional high point came with Descent, a soaring, melodic anthem that had the entire room singing in unison. The band soaked in the moment, smiling through every note. Bell kneeled in at the front of the stage, getting in fans faces creating life long memories and connection. That camaraderie between crowd and stage never wavered, even as the show grew darker and heavier. Burton’s wife stood in the middle of the pit as he dedicated Ghost Heart to her, a haunting, atmospheric track from his Ascension of the Watchers project, formed with Ministry’s John Bechdel.

Then came a jolt of adrenaline:
“Sprechen Sie Deutsch?” Bell grinned.
I may have a 1,000+day DuoLingo streak, but all I could muster was a gleeful “Ja!” as the band launched into an absolutely thunderous cover of Rammstein’s Du Hast. The Factory turned into a German industrial rave for three glorious minutes.

His newest single Savages followed, pure 90s Sepultura riff-worship, unapologetically crushing. It was clear this band isn’t just backing a legend, they’re forging something genuinely fresh. The unreleased track Cold Lazarus hinted at what’s coming next: moody, dense, and layered. If this is the direction, we’re in for something special.

Of course, no Burton C. Bell set would be complete without Replica – the Fear Factory anthem that needs no introduction. One signature “HA!” and the room detonated. The floor began to bounce, the air vibrated, and the man who co-wrote the soundtrack to so many lives once again proved he was and still is the soul of the machine.
Often imitated. Never replicated.

The night closed with Scapegoat, a throwback to Fear Factory’s earliest days. The diehards rushed the front of the barricade-less stage to high five and fist bump their hero. It felt more like a family reunion than a rock show.

When you leave a massive band, you start from scratch. Burton knows this better than anyone. But tonight, he didn’t just hold the stage – he owned it. The band is tight. The songs are vital. And the future? Blinding.

After the lights came up, Bell spent hours at the merch desk – shaking hands, taking photos, and listening intently to fans share how his music changed their lives. A pioneer, a professional, and still one of the best to ever do it.