Biohazard Turns Gröna Lund Into One Big Moshpit

In the early 1990s, two albums spun more often than any others at home—Lights... Camera... Revolution! by Suicidal Tendencies and Urban Discipline by Biohazard. Two records that came to shape my musical taste and which still have a given place in my collection.

In 1993, I finally got to see Suicidal Tendencies when they opened for Metallica at Stockholm Stadium. Biohazard, on the other hand, became the band that never quite happened. Tours were missed, opportunities lost, and years passed. Now, more than 35 years later, as they step onto Gröna Lund’s big stage, it’s not just another concert—it’s a meeting I’ve been waiting most of my life for.

Since their start in Brooklyn in 1987, Biohazard has been one of the most influential bands in the hardcore and crossover genres. With albums like Urban Discipline, State of the World Address, and Mata Leão, they created a unique sound where hardcore, thrash metal, rap, and groove met long before genre fusion became a given. Now, the original lineup is back together—Billy Graziadei, Evan Seinfeld, Bobby Hambel, and Danny Schuler—and it’s immediately clear the chemistry is still intact.

Even before the band appears, the crowd starts cheering as the speakers fill with "Gonna Fly Now", the classic theme from Rocky. An obvious yet brilliant intro for a Brooklyn band whose music has always been about struggle, unity, and rising again.

When the song fades out, they don’t rush directly to their instruments. Instead, they all walk up to the barricade, shake hands with the fans, and thank the audience for coming. It’s a simple gesture, but also clear proof that Biohazard has never built a wall between stage and audience. There are no rock star airs here—just four musicians who seem genuinely happy to be together again.

In the middle of it all, Bobby Hambel spots a young guy at the very front.

– How old are you?

– Thirteen.

Bobby smiles broadly before answering:

– You are the future!

It lasts just a few seconds, but says a lot about the band. Behind the tough exterior, there is still the same sense of togetherness that hardcore has always been based on. The 13-year-old fan favorite can also be seen in the photo below the review (furthest to the right), a moment that captures exactly the feeling Biohazard managed to create even before the first song had started.

Then Gröna Lund explodes.

The opening notes of "Urban Discipline" are enough to set the tone for the evening. The crowd responds instantly with raised fists, deafening sing-alongs, and a moshpit that opens up in front of the stage almost immediately.

What makes the biggest impression is that it never really goes away.

From the first song to the last, the same moshpit continues to live its own life. It ebbs and flows, sometimes larger, sometimes smaller, but the energy never dies out. In front of the stage there’s a constant organized chaos while the rest of the crowd sings along with the choruses and pumps their fists in the air.

On stage, the energy is just as high.

Billy Graziadei and Evan Seinfeld drive the show together with an infectious joy of playing. They cross the stage repeatedly, fire up the crowd, and seem to be having as much fun as the fans in front of the barricade. Bobby Hambel delivers riffs with the same authority as when the songs were first written, while Danny Schuler provides drumming that holds everything together with an almost relentless force.

The most impressive thing isn’t how tight they play, but how much energy they still possess. During a one-hour set, they are almost constantly in motion. They run, jump, headbang and stoke up the audience from first to last minute.

I’m pretty sure they manage to jump more times in this hour than I’ve done my entire life.

"Shades of Grey" and "Wrong Side of the Tracks" follow quickly and the intensity only increases. Biohazard does not play like a band reunited to cash in on old merits. On the contrary, they seem hungrier than many bands half their age.

Then comes the most spectacular moment of the evening.

Suddenly, Billy Graziadei steps right out onto the audience’s shoulders. With his guitar still slung over his shoulder, he continues to play as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. The crowd carries him through the sea of people while he keeps his balance and doesn’t miss a single note. Meanwhile, the rest of the band keeps powering on stage without a care.

It’s one of those moments you can’t plan. It just happens—and when it does, it feels completely obvious. The distance between band and audience is erased entirely, just as Biohazard has always stood for.

Billy Graziadei’s trip out on the audience’s shoulders is far from the only highlight. Biohazard continues to power on with the same intensity, and the moshpit that opened up in the first songs is still in full swing. It becomes just as much a part of the concert as the band itself and stays alive from the first to the last song.

The interplay between Billy Graziadei and Evan Seinfeld is a big reason the performance never loses momentum. They take turns taking command, pushing each other and the crowd with the same intensity, while constantly moving around the stage. Despite having played together for decades, it doesn’t feel rehearsed or routine—rather like four old friends who still love being on stage together.

In the middle of the concert, Billy encourages the crowd to bring out their phones.

"Light them up like fucking stars!"

Hundreds of lights turn on in front of the stage. The bright summer evening means the effect isn’t as powerful as it would have been after dark, but the crowd still jumps in right away, again showing how strong the connection between band and audience is.

A little later, Evan Seinfeld looks out over the sea of people and asks a simple question:

"How many have seen Biohazard before?"

A large majority of the crowd raises their hands.

This says a lot about who stands in front of the stage tonight. Many have followed Biohazard since the 1990s and know every lyric by heart. For many, the show isn’t just about seeing a band—it’s about reliving an important part of their youth.

When "Punishment" starts, the sing-along explodes. Thousands of voices fill Gröna Lund and at times drown out the band. "Hold My Own" keeps the intensity at absolute max before "Victory" puts the finishing touch on a show where the energy never drops.

Perhaps most impressive is that Biohazard never feels like a band riding on its past. Nostalgia is definitely there—it’s unavoidable when the original lineup is back together on stage again—but that’s not what carries the show. It’s the joy of playing, the presence, and the will to give the audience everything they have, just as they did over three decades ago.

When they leave the stage, the applause is long and well-deserved.

But the night isn’t quite over for me.

On the way out, I unexpectedly run into a childhood friend I hadn’t seen in many years. We grew up with the same music, went to shows together, and shared many of the bands that shaped us. Running into him on this very night, right after finally seeing Biohazard live, feels almost symbolic.

In some way, the circle is completed.

It started with two records that played constantly in my stereo in the early 1990s. Thirty-five years later, I’m standing at Gröna Lund and finally experiencing the band that for so long only existed on my record player.

After covering countless concerts at Gröna Lund over the years, I thought it would be hard to top certain performances.

But Biohazard succeeds.

Some concerts live up to expectations. Others surpass them.

After 35 years of waiting, I finally got to see Biohazard live—and they delivered a show that not only met my expectations, but became the strongest concert experience I’ve yet had at Gröna Lund.

Sometimes a long wait is actually worth every year.