Miss May I
Tour 2026

Be prepared for a massive explosion in sound when The Miss May I is set to storm into 2026 with an experience that reimagines the intensity. With bone-crushing breakdowns with a relentless drum beat, and vocals that are roaring with passion The band is ready to ignite the fires of contemporary metalcore across stages around the world. This isn't just a gig, it's an entire body, soul-shaking journey made for people who are awed by metalcore. It doesn't matter if you're jumping deep into the pit, or screaming every word in fans, May's 2026 tour is slated to bring fans together through a shared passion for chaos as well as catharsis and pure sound power.

Tour Dates

How Miss May I Ignites the Stage From the First Breakdown

From the moment Miss May I hits the stage, the energy is exploding. There's no gradual build up. There was no polite warm-up. One massive breakdown and a mass of bodies reacted as if an explosion took place. The band isn't slowing down; they explode. It's a clear reminding us that it's metalcore at its best and refined.

Levi Benton commands the front with a snarl, and an acceleration, propelling the crowd into motion by a single shout. The guitars break like sirens. The drums are like a battle. The lighting is synced so precisely that it's like every note is pulsing. It's not just music, it's also both elevation and assault simultaneously.

It's evident that it's aggressive It's not like it's out of hand. It's sharpened, honed, like blades that have been tested night and night. They're not only heavy, they're exact. The first drop doesn't make the pit move, it brings everyone on the ride and makes everyone shout, swing together by the sound.

The momentum never stops. Every song is a hit, and the changes are smooth, and the energy rises. The band is one unit, tight and responsive, but also unstoppable. There's nothing to fill in, and no wasting motion. Every moment on stage feels intentional, each hit is an attack to the center and soul of the crowd.

When the crowd is up in the air exhausted and breathless, already bruised They have one thing they know for certain that this won't be a non-stop show. It's going be an epic battle with the Miss May she is in the lead.

The Bond Between the Band Members and How It Powers the Performance

Being a part of Miss May I on stage is like watching a brotherhood moving. The chemistry doesn't come from a factory, it's earned through years of touring working, and surviving. It's evident in how they move around between them and how they communicate during a song, and the manner in which they listen to each other while playing. They're not just bandmates, they're an instrument.

This is especially apparent in the manner in which Levi and Ryan communicate vocally. The clean and screaming vocals aren't just layers, they're weaved. There's not ego, there's no conflict, just an excellent handoff. When Ryan takes over the mic to sing the lift the transition is smooth and Levi returns with complete faith. The cohesion is uncompromising.

Instrumentally, the band performs as if they're in the same head. The breakdowns are hit with a precise timing. Tempo shifts can be tense. They play the build-ups and crashes like they've practiced it over and over again, yet they perform as if it's the first time. The desire to play never ceases.

If something happens to go off-script, a technology issue, a misplaced note -- you'll never know. One of the members compensates. The rest of the members adjust. The performance doesn't sway. It is a roar. This is the hallmark of a group that understands one another more than music. There's a sense of communication in every riff and every pause, as well as every shout.

The unspoken connection radiates out to the crowd. It's not just about hearing the music. You sense the unity that was created by it. It makes each show feel like a memorable moment -- not just for the people who attend however, but for the five performers who hold the stage together.

Why Longtime Fans Scream Every Lyric Like It's Personal

Fans of Miss May I aren't content to just listen, they are living the songs. Starting with "Hey Mister" to "Relentless Chaos," every word in the set is an image. When Levi begins to sing that first word, you can feel the voices ringing over the stage--dozens, eventually hundreds of them shouting as if the songs have saved their lives.

These aren't just shout-alongs on the surface. These are roars of catharsis from those who have experienced the emotions. People who have turned to these songs during breakdowns, breakups loss of family members, fights within. The lyrics are powerful because they are a bridge. Resilience, pain, and survival--Miss May I doesn't write about fantasy. They write about reality.

When people shout these words back It's not only to show support. It's release. It's evident in the way that fists move up. When eyes shut and mouths are opened as if they have to sound more loud in comparison to the music. The audience isn't just watching the spectacle. They're involved in the action. Bleeding, sweating, surviving--together.

And the band is aware of it. Levi takes a walk across the arena, leans back into the pit. He then then puts his hands over the mic, not as a trick but rather as a transfer of power. The verse, the chorus, that scream -- it belongs to the fans right now. When they let it loose it's amazing.

This is the reason why their shows so effective. The show is not all about flash. The focus is not on fame. It's about the feeling. It's not uncommon for people to leave without shouting at the least one thing that was a sign of everything to them when they needed it the most.

The Intensity of Their Crowd Energy--And How It Never Lets Up

There's no slow section in the Miss May I concert. There's no calm middle. There's no acoustic break to reset the space. From beginning to end it's a war zone and the crowd would not want otherwise. The pit starts before even the very first song. Crowd surfers are soaring through song two. When the third breakdown comes around you've either been a part of the crowd or been taken in by the chaos.

It's more than just violent. It's essential. The crowd provides food for the band. The crowd feeds the band. It's an endless jangle of adrenaline. When Levi shouts, "Let's go," it's not a suggestion. It's an actual request. Every body is moving.

The music is constantly moving: circular pits, breakdown stomps wall of sound that head bangs. There's also a sense of unity. People are able to help one another. They look after the wounded. They shout lyrics shoulder to the side with strangers. The chaos is caused by codes. This is why the shows of Miss May I feel so alive.

Whatever place you're in on the floor there's a connection to the whole. The energy is all around you. You can feel the bass in your chest. The sweat is felt by 100 people. It's like feeling at ease. This isn't about fighting. It's about being a part of to a place in which it's acceptable to be free of all the other stuff.

Yet, after a set of pounding songs When the band demands for another wall of death-you go. you're gone. Since when you're with Miss May I, the energy doesn't die out. It grows.

What It Feels Like When Levi Benton Stalks the Stage With Purpose

Levi does more than just lead the band; he's the one who leads. When he walks onto the stage, he has an energy that is more powerful than any other snare drum. He's not only performing, he plays. The risers go up and down. From side to side like the predator. A microphone in the palm of your hand, like an weapon. And the entire crowd is agitated in reaction.

He walks with determination. The gears can be seen spinning as he scans the crowd, searching at the spark. He'll jump, crouch at, slam -- every move is synced with the next screaming. It's a physical representation of anger and release. Chaos controlled in real-time.

But it's not only about rage. It's about concentration. As you observe him, you realise that he's not only listening to music, he's doing it. He squints at people. Points. The player is able to score. There's a genuineness to the act. The actor isn't trying to intimidate anyone, he's trying to spark.

Every move has the weight of a movement. When a person throws their body into a collapse it's as if it's an exorcism. When he walks up to an edge on stage, and then leans towards the audience It's as if he's giving you the microphone and mirror.

Through it all, he is never out of control. He is able to lead the crowd, not just through loudness, but also with eyesight. This makes every second feel like it's important.

The Emotional Catharsis Found in the Band's Most Brutal Moments

The most intense moments of Miss May I not only sound brutal, but they feel like a cleansing. There's something in the sheer power and intensity of their sound that helps clear your mind. While the guitars roar and the drums pound there's a calming peace that emerges from the chaos.

It's apparent you feel it in "Forgive and Forget," in "Masses of a Dying Breed," in every song that builds to one of those brutal slow breaks. The screams aren't just noise, they're therapy. They speak what you've never spoken about. They shout for them when they can't.

Levi's vocals are guttural and punch like a blow into the chest, but the lyrics - which often focus on the plight of survival, betrayal, and failure--cut more deeply. The words are echoed through a room full of strangers and realize that you're not all by yourself in what you're carrying.

Just when it seems like it's becoming excessive, Ryan's clear vocals are like a breath of fresh air. They don't diminish the emotion; they make sense of the emotion. They tell you that they've gone through it, too. And we're in the same place.

This layer of emotion gives their performances more than just brutal. They're beautiful. Because they contain something that is healing. Everyone who is in the room can feel it.

How the Clean Vocals Cut Through the Chaos With Clarity and Heart

In the midst of the chaos that is a Miss May I concert, there's a voice that rises not out of the chaos instead, in it. That's Ryan Neff. His vocals aren't diluted by the intensity of the music, they enhance the intensity. They're his emotional clarity cutting through the rage, providing his fans something tangible to keep in mind.

Live the vocals of these artists are more than just melodic breaks, they're changing the direction of music. The moment the chorus that follows "Echoes" or "Hey Mister" comes in, the audience expands. It's not a break in the energy. It's more of a shift towards a new directions. The pit is spinning however, the focus shifts. The crowd sings more loudly. It can get personal.

Ryan's voice is steady but not static or sterile. The voice cracks, swells and it stretches. There's emotion in every song and harmony. And when he joins into Levi's scream, those dual vocals sound like water and fire crashing all at once. That is the basis of Miss May I's music. It's even more potent when you're in the presence of her.

The crowd can get closer during those times. People are singing with their eyes shut. Arms raised. Heads tilted back. The lyrics are more loud than the amps, because people are in need of them. This is what clean vocals provide - an emotional starting point.

The aren't flexible. They're solid. In a show that is built on brutality and speed these are the moments that cause your chest to tighten and your voice rise along with everyone who is listening.

Why Their Older Material Still Shreds Just as Hard Live

The old tracks by Miss May I don't seem old-fashioned. They're risky. If the band breaks into a song like Monument as well as Apologizes Are For the weak The audience isn't content to cheer; they exude. They're battle cries and they've only become more effective as they've aged.

The riffs continue to slice. The breakdowns continue to hit like trucks. However, now there's more force behind the wheels. The years of playing, touring changing, and growing -- it's evident. The band doesn't perform the older songs. They have ownership of these songs.

Live The early anthems of the band have a distinct emotion. For the listeners they're time machines. The band's their roots. Levi's voice when he screams out songs he's screamed over 10 years, but somehow, they sound like fresh. Still sound as if they are important.

It's also a gesture of trust. When they sing "Architect" or "Blessed Be the Ones," they're not trying to gain new ones, they're recognizing those who have been around from the beginning. The pit responds as they've been waiting all night to shout the one phrase.

The old songs are still ripping since they're designed specifically for this purpose. They're raw. Direct. They are designed to move people. In live settings they can feel like the core to the music.

Moments in the Show Where the Pit Turns Into Pure Unity

The chaos that is the chaos of a Miss May I concert, an unexpected thing occurs unity. It could happen in the most savage breakdown, the most raucous pit, or perhaps the most gentle clear chorus. But suddenly, strangers are allies. The pit doesn't spin, it is a connection.

There will be people who fall and be lifted. Hands will reach out to touch mid-mosh. Smiles during dancing slam-dancing. There's violence but never hatred. It's not about cruelty, but rage. All love is wrapped up in chaos.

In the sing-along that are sing-along, the whole room dances in a circle. Arms raised. Voices loud. Fans will wrap their arms around one another and yell the song in the dark, and look at the faces of each other. The scene is not on purpose. It's primal. An exhale shared.

Then, when the band is aware of it, they lean into. Levi leans forward, points at the crowd. Ryan looks at the notes and nods. It's acknowledgment. They feel it. The can feel it. They're a part of it, too.

These instances show that in even the most hostile situations, there's something incredibly human taking place. Something lovely.

How Their Message of Resilience Hits Harder in Person

The message of Miss May I isn't veiled. Their music is a cry for the need for survival. However, hearing the message live elevates it to a whole new level. When Levi shouts about getting up, pushing through and refusing to let go, it does not feel like a performance. It's like the truth.

Live. Its lyrics strike more forcefully because you feel emotions. You can see the sweat. You see the faces of the crowd glowing on certain songs. You realize how intimate these songs are not only for the band, but for everyone who loves them.

Songs such as "Forgive and Forget" or "Relentless Chaos" aren't just about suffering, they're about the process of enduring it. It's about getting stronger. The message is then made gospel when a multitude of people are singing it in unison.

This sense of resiliency echoes across every wall of the venue. It's not a sermon. It's earned. Through breakdowns. Through sweat. Through times when the clear vocals lift you from the hole, and then the next riff slams you back into the pit.

You don't just listen to Miss May I's message live. You have faith in that you believe it. But more importantly, you experience it for yourself.

What Makes Their Live Sound So Tight and Technically Precise

The sound of Miss May I is strong, but also controlled. Every guitar squeal snare hit, and every bass drop is exactly where it is supposed to. This isn't just sound. It's created chaos. Live this tightness transforms their show from a wild experience to top-of-the-line.

It's clear that they've been practicing each minute, but they don't behave like robots. They act like assassins. Precise. Focused. Calculated fury. The transitions happen instantly. The timing is perfect. You glance up, and you're already three breaks ahead.

Their guitar work is precise and slicing. There is no slippage. No drift. The harmonies stay in place and the chugs strike with the force of seismic impulses. Drums propel all the way forward and never move, even if the tempo shifts in mid-song. It's smooth, but never sounding sterile.

Ryan's vocals and bass are perfectly placed in the middle, gluing the chaos by blending rhythm and melody. This is the foundation to the live band's rigor.

This kind of performance gives the audience a chance to get lost. They know that the band will never be able to do it again.

Tips for Surviving--and Appreciating--the Full Miss May I Concert Experience

Make sure you wear the correct shoes. The pit is not for the faint of heart. Don't wear sandals and tie them up tightly. Drink water. You'll be drenched. Drink water prior to the doors are even opened.
Stretch. No joke. Your back and neck will be grateful after the third death wall.
Learn your song songs. This isn't a event for people who are passive. Make sure you shout the lyrics loud.
Pay attention to your place in the pit. Help people up. Be aware of your friends and family members. It's violent--but it's love.
Pay attention to the clear areas. The contrast is an element of the magic.
Make breaks as needed. Find the rail. Take a drink. Then dive back in.
Let go. Scream. Jump. Cry. Whatever you require. That's the reason this music is for..

Don't let your ego be a problem. Leave it at the door. Be honest with yourself. Miss May, I'll take care of everything else.