Scranton, PA – 02 Sept, 2023
I Can't Wait To Tell You All About This (This New Fest)
Day 1 of Camp Punksylvania was full of the nerves and anxiety one would expect from the first night a sleepaway camp. Day 2, welp, that was an entirely different mix of emotions. By now most of us had sweat together, we danced with one another and we didn't have to speak to know that each one of us wanted every other person there to have a killer time.
As those first day jitters had subsided, we were let in on the tentpole day, held up by the biggest and most anticipated act of the fest. With a crowd brimming with excitement and quivering with antici…………………….pation for the Suicide Machines the ska vibes were palpable. But we had some variety before we got there.
Getting there over an hour before the stages opened gave me the opportunity to wander through the Misfits Market portion of Camp. Local and international vendors lined the walkway peddling their wares and holding court. Whether it was a sample from Pickle Monster Hot Sauce or the Malort-infused vibes from Stupid Rad Merch there was something for everyone. I was most impressed with Knotty Boy Crochet's stitchery, My Weird Shears and of course, the team from Punk Rock Saves Lives. But none of that is why we are all here, so let's dive in to the music.
Kicking off the main stage was Central PA's Suburban Downgrade. The hardcore punks opened the doors with a molotov of sound. The band slapped the crowd upside the head with a grimy street sound culminating with “Serenity” when they brought up Ox, a young man who sang, danced and thrashed alongside quite a few bands this weekend. Yet another reminder from Camp Punk; sure it's cool to tear everything down, but don't forget to build someone or something up. If Ox is the future, Suburban Downgrade was setting him down the right path.
Following on the main stage was ASMR, a punk ensemble straight from Columbus, OH. These rippers had a simple message; Fuck the patriarchy, fuck the powerful and fuck you too. The seriousness of their mission statement bled with uncomfortable seamlessness into The Karens holding court at the Sampler Stage. This was not some silly novelty act singing songs about broken ice cream machines. I mean they're that too, but wow did they put on a fucking banger of set. The Sampler Stage really is a fucking godsend of great tunes.
Meanwhile, on the main stage, Pity Party tore the afternoon to shreds with its high energy catharsis in aural form. The Bay-Area quartet is doing what Bay-Area punks have been doing for decades… and doing it better than most. What a show! Brandon Richie was (to my surprise) not the subtle solo act the name led me to believe. This four-piece is a full-on beautiful car crash level of crunch and speed. The singer was a blast of buckshot, ricocheting all over the tent but somehow his stage presence took a backseat to the drummer, who was goddam amazing. I got cramps in my arms just watching him beat the snares like they owed him money at the speed of light.
Following the aural amphetemine of Brandon Richie, Stop The Presses took to the main stage to slow things down and brought their island vibes to Scranton. The crowd used the opportunity to refresh as we joined the Miami/Brooklyn act with a sway and some chill. The act splashed their cool, new take on a past wave of ska and reggae music upon as the heat blistered all around. We were all able to feel the seaside breezes thanks to the brilliance emanating from the stage. Ska in Scranton continued as local act The What Nows?!, filled the main stage for the first of the band's three performances this weekend. The sick ska punk set featured a minimalist brass section, an electric uke and a double shot of lively merry-making.
Returning act Oh, The Humanity, brought elements of their main stage show from day 1 to the Sampler Stage for Day 2. Despite the smaller spot, the Massachusetts outfit saw no reduction in energy or passion in their performance. I'm going to keep kissing their asses, because when they inevitably become one of the biggest names in the scene, I want it known I was fully on board before the train left the station. Having these dudes take the stage twice was such a treat and I can not wait to hear the next record when its time.
Man and his guitar Derek Zanetti, better known as The Homeless Gospel Choir wowed the crowd from the main stage with his relatability and sense of humor as he tackled serious topics surrounding mental health and questions of faith. Hailing from Pittsburgh, the Paris of Appalachia, Zanetti let us know on the first song (and repeated before each subsequent song) it's all a protest for his music, even when you are protesting people's expectations or the pharmacologic-industrial complex.
Canada's Amy Gabba took to the sampler stage with simply her voice and a guitarist. Amy showed off her impressive range as a vocalist in the set brimming with sultry sounds and acoustic fun, highlighted by the guitarist's multiple attempts to perform the classic “Blister In The Sun,” despite Gabba's insistence they show off some of their originals. NJ's Fat Chance was scheduled for the main stage next, but some road troubles prevented the punks from arriving for the show. While a replacement hit the main stage, I used the opportunity to sit down and try an absolutely deeeeeeeeeeelicious ETID Buffalo Chicken sandwich from Witchkraft Sandwiches. The large pair of chicken cutlets, smothered in buffalo sauce and topped with chili garlic pickles and ranch dressing had a perfect amount of kick to make me say Hot Damn (see what I did there? Buffalo, ETID, you get it).
With my belly full and my heart hungry for more performances, I headed into the Sampler Stage tent for second performance of Day 1's most surprising act, No Complyance. Going in this time, I knew what to expect, but I was still blown away as the quartet shined, bouncing and bopping their way into the collective psyches of the crowd, who ate up their sound and energy.
Buffalo's Working Class Stiffs took to the main stage, and holy fuck, did they bring a sense of community with them. Following an otherwise, great performance, the punks let everyone know that one of their members would be leaving the band after the festival, they took their time wishing him luck, and sharing hugs while the stage filled with performers, fans and non-blood family for an emotional sendoff to the tune of Bouncing Souls' classic “Manthem.” There are few moments in this life where we get to witness such a pure, organic and sincere sense of bonds within the punk community, but moments and memories like this will provide chills to all lucky enough to have experienced or witnessed this slice of time.
The What Nows?! returned, this time to the Sampler Stage for another short burst of joy before Canadian skate-punk legends Belvedere made their long delayed return to the US. Still celebrating the release of the outstanding Hindsight Is The Sixth Sense album from 2021, the veterans tore through a high energy set and reminded those of us who haven't seen them in decades that they still got it. With barely any rest to switch stages, Working Class Stiffs made their way to the Sampler Stage where they may not have had the level of crowd participation but they still got the tent jumping with their high-energy performance.
Sussex County ska-core quintet Folly came to the stage. While they had no roof to tear off, the performance was electric. Members of Oh, The Humanity, Working Class Stiffs and others were right up against the barricade to join barefooted frontman Jon Tumillo as he shredded vocal chords with classics from the band's oeuvre. I've been seeing these kids since we were all in high school and it never gets old and they never fall flat. It was everything a Folly show should be with an overwhelming sense of release and waves of ecstasy showering upon the audience.
The Potato Pirates were a band that a bunch of the performers TGEFM interviewed had said they were most excited for. Personally, I didn't know them or what to expect. What I got was a raucous party of pure punk pleasure powered by pints and purpose. I'm glad I chose to check them out.
Reggae/Ska luminaries Westbound Train kept the night moving on the main stage as Obi Fernandez and company spread across the stage, filling the night with their soulful ska. This band has garnered quite a following over the years, and this performance is a stark reminder of why they are so well received and so well respected. The thing about Westbound Train is that they're a ska band of roughly 38 members (7 is a more honest body count but 38 sounds better) squeezing onto the stage, but Fernandez is so goddamned charismatic and relatable on the stage that it can seem at times to be just you and he, waxing poetic. There is a skill in making an audience of thousands feel like a conversation of two, and Obi is a master of that. Its hard to imagine that the former trombonist of North Jersey mainstays Day 19 had this in him, but his move to Boston definitely helped to bring out an even greater side to him.
By the lights of the Ferris Wheel and other attractions brought forth by Skully's Amusements, those of us on the hill in Scranton were finally ready for the headlining act. Over the course of the day, there were so many brilliant performances, I'd almost forgot that I had began the weekend most excited to see The Suicide Machines for the first time in twenty-ish years. In those decades, I've grown gray and tired but my love for The Suicide Machines and Definition by Destruction has never wavered even if my ability to find time to catch the tours has diminished.
Well let me tell you this, Jay Navarro has certainly gotten older but I only know this because I know the time has passed. The man himself is no different than he was when I caught them on the Battle Hymns, Self-Titled and Steal This Record tours . He is still a firecracker exploding and blooming all over the stage and in the audience and the entire audience was still here for it all.
As a bubble machine in the crowd gave way to sun showers, the Detroit phenomen powered their way through an hour-long set in 40 minutes. A set that featured guest vocals from Folly's Jon Tumillo, who joined the band on stage for “DDT”, while members of Stop The Presses, Working Class Stiffs and The What Nows?! were all part of the gang vocals organically rising from the chorus of a crowd singing along as Navarro reached over the barricade. The band and the crowd went into a frenzy with full throttled anthems of ska-core glory. I'm sure Jay loves his bandmates, but there is no denying he is most at home with the crowd being a part of the moment instead of separated from it by a microphone and barricade. This is why, this is how The Suicide Machines have become one of everyone's favorite live bands. They just fucking get us, because at the end of it all, they are just one of us. Whether chatting it up with the future of punk; Ox or diving into the absurdly large freezer bag full psilocybin that was thrown to the stage, The Suicide Machines were enjoying the moments they were creating just as much as we were and it was evident in the whole performance.
I went up to the Fire Stage and checked out the set from Condition Oakland. I enjoyed the shit out of it, but I could never quite escape the ecstasy still flowing from The Suicide Machines' performance. I cut out before the final three Fire Stage sets, (Cardboard Homestead, Scott Reynolds, Escape From The Zoo – The latter of which is said to have put on the best show of the weekend) grinning ear to ear, still excited to have heard Navarro and crew shout about a new girl. Called it a night and made the 2 hour drive home overwhelmed by the unbelievable day of performances and everything that came with it. I know there's no way the third day could live up to this one… is there?
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/