On a freezing and rain-soaked Camden evening, the warmth inside the Roundhouse feels almost defiant. For the second consecutive night, Of Monsters And Men continued their return to the capital after a six-year absence from touring. If Tuesday carried the electricity of anticipation, Wednesday hums with something deeper — a sense of shared understanding between band and audience.
Of Monsters And Men @ Roundhouse
Opening the night is fellow Icelander Árný Margrét, standing alone with an electric guitar. Her set is sparse yet enveloping, voice echoing gently around the Roundhouse’s cavernous dome. There’s a quiet resilience to her delivery, the minimal instrumentation allowing each lyric to linger in the cold air. It’s a fitting prelude to the emotional terrain ahead. “I speak little” she adds in her soft voice, which is breaking slightly from the weight of the tour.
When Of Monsters And Men emerge on the circular stage, declaring that “we wish we could play in a circle all the time — its much better”, the near-capacity crowd greets them with an eruption of cheers. They launch into Television Love, its pulsing rhythm instantly binding the room together. The band move fluidly into Dream Team and King And Lionheart, the latter met with a wave of nostalgic delight. Touring in support of 2025’s All Is Love And Pain In The Mouse Parade, the newer material sits comfortably alongside the fan favourites, forming a set that feels deliberately sequenced rather than simply stacked with hits.
Alligator injects a shot of adrenaline midway through the first stretch, its jagged energy contrasting with the reflective sway of Human. Nanna Bryndís Hilmarsdóttir commands the stage with a magnetic blend of theatrical flair and unguarded sincerity, her glittering guitar catching the light as she moves. Ragnar Þórhallsson provides a steady counterpoint, their vocal interplay a defining thread throughout the night.
The Roundhouse’s unique architecture lends the performance an almost ritualistic atmosphere. At one point, the band gather close together under softened lighting, harmonising in a hushed circular cluster before drifting back to their positions. The moment feels suspended in time — intimate, reverent — as if the thousands present have been briefly invited into something private. The crowd, previously bouncing and shouting, falls into attentive silence.
Elsewhere, the mood shifts with ease. The Block is introduced with playful affection, while Empire and Mouse Parade swell with layered instrumentation that fills the circular space. During Ordinary Creature, which Þórhallsson couldn’t recall whether was the first, second or third release from their 2025 album, shifting lights ripple across the ceiling like an imitation aurora, a subtle nod to the band’s Icelandic roots. It’s visually striking without overpowering the music.
Shrouded by ten interchanging umbrellas, quite apt for this particular damp February evening, Dirty Paws arrives to thunderous approval, its call-and-response chorus transforming the venue into a single, unified voice. Even years on, the song retains its urgency, its bittersweet edge sharpened by the band’s matured delivery. Little Talks closes the main set with guest support appearance from Árný Margrét and broods intensity, leaving the audience clamouring for more.
After obligatory chants for one more song, the encore is inevitable. The stomping begins almost instantly, echoing around the structure’s wooden ribs. The band return for The End, the final song on the latest album which Þórhallsson declares was recorded in a cabin, adding that “I feel we always have to give information with a song — who wants to know how it was made?! Well, in 2013 my dad gave me a dog…..no really, it was just an idea and now it’s here!”. Its slow build bathing the room in a communal glow, before lifting spirits skyward with Fruit Bat. It’s a finale that balances reflection and release — a reminder of how far they’ve travelled and why their absence was so keenly felt.
Across the evening, the oscillation between euphoric bursts and delicate introspection defines the show. Strong vocals, thoughtful pacing and an evident camaraderie onstage make this second night at the Roundhouse feel less like a repeat and more like a deepening. In the cold heart of February, Of Monsters And Men create a world that feels warm, immersive and profoundly human.
Live review & photography of Of Monsters And Men @ Roundhouse, London on 18th February 2026 by Lauren Patel.
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