The Kingsland, Brooklyn, NY – 13 May 2022
Good Riddance played The Kingsland and a helicopter came
Good Riddance may not have been the first political band I heard, i was well versed in Rage Against the Machine and Bob Dylan when i first heard A Comprehensive Guide to Moderne Rebellion but the Santa Cruz quartet were definitely one of the most widely accessible with regular touring and venues that were local and affordable. I credit Russ Rankin’s lyrics for helping me eschew the conservative Catholic traditions in my home. Good Riddance opened the door to progressive thought and was a gateway into the hardcore side of punk. I believe my mother would say they helped turn me into pinko commie scum, I think a more accurate description is it turned me into a responsible adult with empathy and decency, but that’s a debate for a Thanksgiving table not here.
If not for bands like Good Riddance, I do believe I’d be one of those morons on Facebook, spouting off on conspiracy theories with the confidence of a toddler and IQ to match. The sound clips and liner notes were the reason I looked in Mario Savio, found the hypocrisy in Reagan’s Mulford Act, convinced me to read Noam Chomsky and I haven’t looked back since, so when the opportunity to see the band kick off a tour with War on Women and Teenage Halloween presented itself I was chomping at the proverbial bit, although I was a little nervous that GR would’ve lost a bit since I last saw them in 2006.
The Kingsland was a venue I’d never heard of, let alone visited, before arriving for the show. A tiny pizzeria/bar joint in the front with a back door to a small stage and floor. I was a little concerned by the size but the sound was impressively balanced and full. Not that I think that mattered because the bands put on extremely energetic and entertaining performances. The first of which was Teenage Halloween.
Musically, the band’s 2020 self-titled album was an underrated masterpiece. The five-piece (that I thought was a septet) took the stage with less than 10 people in the room, but by the time they burst into second song, “Holes,” the crowd in both rooms began to move closer as the impassioned playing and hook-heavy power-pop piqued the interest of all within earshot. Once you saw the frenetic energy of guitarist Eli Frank it was impossible not to become immediately invested. Especially when that energy is transposed against the subtle ass-kicking provided by bassist Tricia Marshall, whose small stature stands in glaring contrast to towering guitarist/vocalist Luke Henderiks.
The young band performed like seasoned vets, interacting with the crowd without the nervous banter that can waste too much of a performance. Regardless of their status as openers, Teenage Halloween put on a hell of a show! There was no denying I wasn’t the only one over the moon impressed by the Asbury Park rockers, because by the time the band finished closing out the set with “Stationary,” the venue was getting claustrophobic. Those in attendance didn’t just come forward to watch, the crowd became more animated and if the traditional role of an opener is to get the energy up, Teenage Halloween far exceeded their role, gaining new fans and impressing those of us with already high expectations.
After a quick stage breakdown, Baltimore’s War on Women took the stage. It didn’t take long for front woman Shawna Potter to commandeer the stage and set forth on a path full of piss, vinegar, sound and fury. After their spot opening for the Bad Religion/Alkaline Trio tour, I heard so many people, with opinions I respect, preach the virtues of Potter. None of those reviews did her or War On Women justice.
Potter, indeed, is an impressive presence on the mic. She would alternate between sultry, seductive dance moves and headbanging a flurry of long, mermaid-colored hair swinging in the air. She was connected to the crowd, fun, high-energy and most importantly, she was powerful. It was an absolute delight to watch the rest of the band enjoy the fuck out of their time on stage, but it was near impossible to take your eyes off Potter long enough to watch them enjoy their time.
The band was unabashed and unafraid, spitting venom that would make the sphincter spasm in any incel unfortunate enough to walk by the building. War on Women, and Potter in particular, tore the fucking roof off The Kingsland. I hadn’t realized I lost the passion for hardcore beforehand, but War on Women reignited a smoldering flame deep in my gut and reminded me of the power and unity of a middle finger flying high. It was everything I didn’t know I needed.
It was also a surprisingly terrifying prospect. I mean, how could Good Riddance hold a candle to either supporting act, both of whom put on excellent performances? There was more than enough reason to worry. It had been less than four months since bassist Chuck Platt had been hit by a car which left his foot facing the wrong way and Platt hospitalized for 10 days. Less than two months ago GR opened for Pennywise and Platt needed to perform from a seat. And what about Rankin? Singer Russ Rankin just released a subdued solo record. Did he still have the same energy he had when the millenium changed? After four decades in the scene, did Good Riddance still have the energy and passion to put forth a good live show?
All of those concerns were thrown out the window upon the first note of “Don’t Have Time.” Good Riddance hasn’t lost a single step. The band unleashed fury and power in the form of an hour-long set covering their lengthy career, including personal favorites “Letters Home,” “Heresy, Hypocrisy and Revenge” and “Credit to His Gender.” Never a band too keen on on-stage banter, the Santa Cruz quartet, kept a frenzied pace and the crowd made sure the band was aware of how invested we were. The band hasn’t seemed to age a day over the two-plus decades since I’d last seen them. Rankin still demanded energy from behind the mic, guitarist Luke Pabich still managed to shred with fast hands and speeding fingers and Sean Sellers still beat on the drums like they owed him money.
The scene in the crowd was frenzied, a sea of arms and legs spinning and two-stepping into a whirling dervish of sweat and beer. It never ceases to amaze me, the energy of an intimate venue when a band tears it up. And few bands are built for the intimacy of a tiny venue quite like Good Riddance. After 2 years of trying to minimize my contact with the outside world, this was exactly the show I needed to get the energy of a crowd and feel the sweat welling up in my KN95. After such a long time, we were all able to reconnect with Good Riddance like you do with an old friend, and like those true friends you lose touch with, we were all able to pick right up where we last left off.
Bad Dad (occasionally called Ed) has been on the periphery of the punk and punk-adjacent scene for over twenty years. While many contributors to this site have musical experience and talent, Ed’s musical claim to fame comes from his time in arguably the most punk rock Blockbuster Video district in NJ where he worked alongside members of Blanks 77, Best Hit TV and Brian Fallon. He is more than just an awful father to his 2 daughters, he is also a dreadful husband, a subpar writer, a terrible dresser and has a severe deficiency in all things talent… but hey, at least he’s self-aware, amirite?
Check out the pathetic attempts at photography on his insta at https://www.instagram.com/bad_dad_photography/
