Living between shrinking margins

Smarter people than I have already written about the death of Brooklyn Vegan, Alternative Press, Revolver, and Goldmine, so I won't waste too much time on this, but there are some things I'd like to say before we move on.

As someone who exists on both sides of the aisle, as a former professional music writer and also a musician, I can't help but feel that we've lost something important here. Even though I was never a regular reader of Revolver or Alternative Press—though the latter did some great work, to be sure—Brooklyn Vegan felt, to me, like one of the last publications that could truly lend a helping hand to upstart bands.

Even if you're not trying to make a career out of playing music, having a publication that's combing through Bandcamp links and user submissions and excitedly writing about what they find can make a world of difference. When you're trying to book shows or, god willing, a full-on tour, having even one thing to point to that says you're worth taking seriously is a huge boon to those endeavors. And if you were in a small band announcing a tour, having a site that would post about your tour dates, letting people outside your immediate network know you were coming through town, was a huge thing. It was essentially filling a gap left by shuttered alt-weeklies, many of which I still mourn. Imperfect as Brooklyn Vegan may have been, there are precious few places that still exist who are willing to trade in their time and energy to cover up-and-coming artists instead of defaulting to posting exclusively about pop stars and safe, established acts.

On the writer's side, I hate seeing jobs eliminated and publications shuttered when precious few avenues exist to meaningfully engage with culture. Having run Former Clarity for a full seven years now, I can say with complete authority that a lot of industry folks don't take things like this particularly seriously. While I've seen people post online about supporting independent artists and bands, when it comes to independent writers, I've not seen that same energy. Labels and publicists tend to not give the same weight to blogs, zines, and newsletters like they once did. I sincerely hope that changes.

We're currently in a great remaking. It's hard out here for bands, it's hard out here for writers, and it's hard out here for subculture. While I'm sure in five-to-ten years we'll see a preponderance of new sites stepping up to fill the void, it'll take people tiring of podcast clips and front-facing influencer-style content as their default means of engaging with cultural criticism. Until then, I'll keep going down with the ship.

It's been a busy summer over here, as Nina and I wrapped up the Summer Concert Series we host in Chicago's Kilbourn Park. Watching Krill, V.V. Lightbody, National Photo Committee, and others play on a stage directly facing our house was quite the trip. If you came out: thank you. It's real a labor of love. Even with that series going on, I made time to hit a bunch of other shows these past few weeks, so let's talk about some of them.

Jeff Rosenstock residency at Metro

I've been a Jeff Rosenstock fan since the early days of Bomb the Music Industry! Prior to his recent residency at Metro, I'd seen him live over 10 times, which is a lot for any band, but I figured why not drive that number to truly preposterous heights? The premise of Jeff's never-ending residency was as follows: He announced one show and once it sold out, another show would get announced; repeat ad infinitum. It's something he did at Warsaw in Brooklyn back in 2024, and I was delighted that he decided to treat to Chicago to the absurdity this summer.

I went to three shows across the week-plus Jeff was in town—the first night with Good Luck, the fourth night with Bren Lukens of Modern Baseball, and the fifth night with Beach Bunny—and each were a joyous experience. I've covered Good Luck extensively over the past year so I won't go long here but I will say, seeing them play a proper venue with a big sound system was really nice, even if it wasn't as special as seeing them in my friend's coffee shop with us throwing Magic cards in the air (read all about it in my 2025 year-end recap). I will never take an opportunity to see Good Luck for granted.

The hottest ticket of the entire residency was night four with Bren Lukens, the reclusive songwriter who wrote some of Modern Baseball's most iconic songs. If you know my professional history, I was somewhat tied to Modern Baseball, as I went on tour with them for a few days and wrote a big, several-thousand word interactive feature for The A.V. Club about it all. As is true of most things from that time, it's been wiped from the internet, and exists solely as a full-page screenshot in my folder of clips from defunct websites. I'll send it to you if you want.

In actuality, it was going out on tour with Modern Baseball that really made me appreciate them. Not only were the band members all incredibly warm, funny, and hospitable, they extended that courtesy to the fans who showed up their shows, too. After a couple nights spent with the band, it was clear that the songwriting on display was strong enough to poke through the armor of their staunchest critics if you were willing to turn down your nose and uncross your arms.

Watching Bren up on stage at the Metro, it brought me right back. The kids screamed along to every word, and most emphatically for the tossed-off asides he so often dropped into their songs. There was some light push-moshing, which is always funny at an acoustic show, but it really spoke to the unbridled enthusiasm of the people in attendance. It seemed a lot of them never had the chance to see Modern Baseball, so they treated this as their one opportunity to do it up right, and I'm really glad they did.

For Jeff's part, each of the three sets I saw were fantastic. He and his band remained energized from the first song to the last, churning out thirty-or-more songs over the course of two hours each time. It truly felt like the only reason the band stopped playing was because they hit the venue's curfew, though I'm sure they all let out a well-earned exhale once they were back in Metro's green room.

While I had great time nights one and four, the end of night five really put a bow on the whole thing. After night four, I talked with Michael from Polyvinyl Records about what I hoped Jeff would play, which was the Bomb the Music Industry! song "The First Time I Met Sanawon" and his cover of "I Don't Wanna Die" by Ging Nang Boyz. Both songs had already been played once during shows I didn't attend, so while there was a chance, it felt slim. After Jeff announced they had four songs left on night five, I knew the odds were against me.

As Jeff and co. finished "9/10," Michael appeared before me and said, "You ready?" Right then, the opening notes of "The First Time I Met Sanawon" hit and I followed Michael straight into the pit. It was there I found my friend Chris (of the 10/10 You're Great podcast) who flew out from Seattle for these shows. Chris spends every Jeff show he sees up front, singing and dancing, routinely heckling me about being too cool to get up there in the scrum with him. He seemed delighted when he saw me rushing in, and it felt nice to share in it with friends both old and new. After an energetic run-through of "You In Weird Cities," the band busted into "I Don't Wanna Die" and my journey was complete. It was a perfect end, hearing songs I love surrounded by friends and acting like a young person again. May we all be so lucky to enjoy such fleeting moments of joy, regardless of our age.

Public Acid, Invertebrates, Brainwash Victims, Force, Death Fiend at Quarters Rock 'n' Roll Palace, Milwaukee

Two years ago, Public Acid and Invertebrates came through Chicago on their way to Unlawful Assembly fest in Milwaukee. That show as one of my favorites of 2024 (read about it here) so when I saw that the pair announced the Operation Hardcore tour, I was ecstatic. But then I noticed Chicago wasn't listed on the itinerary, and that the Milwaukee show was on a Tuesday night. The practical part of my brain knew that driving up to Milwaukee after work, during peak rush hour traffic, could be dicey. And driving back well after midnight only to wake up early for work the next morning was likely a huge mistake. But the part of me that loves being alive told me to suck it up and go for it. That's the part of my brain I should always listen to.

My record collecting tendencies are well-documented here, so the fact Public Acid and Invertebrates were selling a tour-only split LP of their upcoming standalone 7-inches meant I was going to be camping at the merch table early to make sure that was in my possession. Once I acquired that record and a tour shirt, I took up a spot in Quarters' tiny room as Death Fiend kicked the night off. The Milwaukee trio features a member of Necron 9 on drums, and their sound is based heavily around Celtic Frost (the band name is an obvious clue), Motörhead, and Discharge, but I wouldn't call them a straight-up D-beat band by any means. Their songs were mid-tempo and churning in a way that blurred the lines between English hardcore and early Swedish metal in a way that hit a sweet spot for me. I bought their demo after and, though it doesn't fully capture their power, I know I'll keep on revisiting it. I hope I can see them again soon.

Though I thought Force had a serviceable, solid sound, it wasn't what the crowd was looking for, and the lukewarm reception they received showed it. Frankly, it was a bit of a bummer, as I love mixed-bill shows, but Force's sound being just a few degrees removed from what the rest of the bands had on offer meant only a few friends and diehards really gave them much support.

The run of Brainwash Victims, Invertebrates, and Public Acid were what people paid to see, and each one absolutely ripped. I've been hot on the Brainwash Victims tape from earlier this year, and seeing Mark Winter of Coneheads fame bring a primal, pummeling batch of songs to the table was a real treat. The songs were all elevated by Unlawful Assembly mastermind Leo McClutchy behind the drums, whose playing was tight and ferocious. The crowd went wild, making the most of small dance floor for the 20 minutes Brainwash Victims were on stage.

Actually, let's talk about that stage for a second, because it was comically small. Here's a photo of it.

Now, if you're not familiar with Invertebrates or Public Acid, they're both five-piece bands. I genuinely had no clue how they were going to fit up there, but they both managed to find a way and make it look somewhat comfortable. That is, before the crowd's movement brought the temperature in the room to truly sweltering levels. I could feel the sweat dripping down my back, and I watched as the bands' shared drummer, Eric Chubb, gasped for air after Invertebrates set, and for his T-shirt to be a full shade darker by the time Public Acid was done.

Despite those challenges, each band delivered exactly what I hoped to see. Invertebrates opened with an AC/DC song as an intro before kicking into their opener, and it felt spiritually appropriate for a band that so deftly integrates melodic sensibilities into their sound. For Public Acid's part, their guitars were absolutely punishing that night. While I though they sounded great in 2024, they felt immense in that tiny room, ensuring that any time either of these bands roll through a couple-hour drive, I'll make it a point to be there.

Obituary and Melting Rot at Beat Kitchen

In between all of this, I caught Obituary at the Beat Kitchen with Melting Rot and New Found Power. No, that's not a New Found Glory tribute band; they're named after the lone record by Damageplan, the post-Pantera project of brothers Dimebag Darrell and Vinnie Paul. Based on that information alone, I decided to skip their set. Sorry, fellas.

Melting Rot is a band I've been seeing for a while, and they just keep getting better. Their latest album is a great slice of goregrind with some actually funny lyrics contained therein, and to say they were the highlight of the evening wouldn't be a stretch. That's not because Obituary were bad, but it just felt like the same Obituary set I've seen on and off for the past decade. A few cuts from the classic records, some new ones, and the requisite Celtic Frost cover. It was cool, and I'm really glad I went, even if it didn't end up living up to the promise of seeing death metal legends doing an off-night underplay.

Also, I'm increasingly convinced John Tardy is lip syncing, though I'd love to be wrong about that. If you see me publish a retraction in this newsletter, just assume I've been threatened with legal action.

First Day Back and Gapyear at Subterranean Downstairs

I'll be the first to admit that First Day Back's debut album Forward didn't do a ton for me. It wasn't bad, but I've found myself almost entirely disconnected from the past couple waves of emo, as that sound went in directions that felt entirely removed from what I liked about the original thing.

I ended up tagging along with Nina to show in part to challenge my personal bias, which is something I still find a lot of value in doing, but I ended up just feeling challenged. For one, I felt old as shit in a room full of kids a generation younger than me dressed in 2000s emo fashions. I felt like I was looking at my high school yearbook, all skin-tight stripped shirts and white studded belts and multitudes of plastic bracelets. Had Hot Topic held on just a little bit longer, they could have maybe rode the rising tide of sixth wave emo and fought off being sold to Spirit Halloween.

Old man shit-talk aside, I have to admit I was impressed by First Day Back's set. While I find Forward to be a bit dynamically flat, the songs all expanded their range in a live setting. The band was felt bigger and bolder than they did on record, with the quiet-to-loud dynamics translating in much more outsized way in that small room. I would say First Day Back's set made me excited to revisit Forward with fresh ears, but they committed a cardinal sin by playing for an hour-and-fifteen minutes. That is a lot of time for almost any band that I don't passionately love, and I felt my patience being tested. Around the 45-minute mark I wondered if I should go grab a slice of pizza from the place around the corner only to talk myself out of it because, "They've gotta only have one song left." How wrong I was! Their fans were loving it, so this is probably just a me problem, but I love to walk out of a show wanting more, not leave thinking, "Yeah, I'm good on that for a while."

I was going to talk about new releases I've been digging but this is already so long I've decided to hold that for another post next week. Two Former Clarity posts in a single month? Believe it.