Webster Hall, NYC- 21 Jan 2023
“A series of cells I’m so lucky to be part of”
From the moment I strolled up 3rd Ave to 11th St and found the line, there was a palpable peculiarity in the air. An energy of weird lined the streets, an anticipation built up for over a decade led to a queue of static energy waiting to unleash. The Sound of Animals Fighting have returned to NYC and we were ready to go Apeshit (pun intended), and all the acts were ready to facilitate a collective catharsis.
Opening act Concrete Castles shot out of a cannon with a boppy, bouncing performance of dreamy pop-punk bliss. The Erie, PA trio merged Paramore-esque pop-punk with EDM beats to create something truly surprising and impressive. The band performed an exciting set as guitarist Matthew Yost flinged himself all across the stage, while frontwoman Audra Miller connected with people across every inch of Webster Hall with her charismatic performance.
Hail The Sun were next to hit the stage and filled the room with passion and catharsis. This is post hardcore in the purest sense with explosions and erosion of sound, a frenetic outbreak of hair, pop-n-locked guitar convulsions and mic swings.
Clear At The Drive In influences shine through in every aspect without once appearing contrived or choreographed. This is a band in which the music flows through in all of its chaotic beauty. I couldn’t tell you a single song played, and don’t really give a shit because I loved every second of their performance. Watching the explosive nature of the band’s stage presence was an absolute blast. There was not a single inch of stage or equipment that the singer/drummer Donovan Melero did not stomp, spring or shimmy across. It was 40 minutes of divine release and laid out foreshadowing for the purging of the soul that we were all about to experience.
For those that don’t know The Sound of Animals Fighting’s amazing pedigree, I highly suggest you look into the different acts these folks have previously and currently been involved in…There are simply too many for me to list here. Tonight though, those previous incarnations mean nothing, because TSOAF steals the moment, making the past meaningless and the present perfect.
Throughout the set there are a total of five vocalists, alternating and pairing to create a seamlessly chaotic set. The rotating cast played off each other perfectly, enthralling the crowd with the eccentricities of Rich Balling and Anthony Green while Keith Goodwin and Matthew Kelly provided a dichotomy in their gentle approach to the microphone. Green was convulsing across the stage, oscillating his signature voice from howls to melodies, swinging a glowing orange light bulb with complete abandon. Balling was dropping to his knees, bowing at the altar of the crowd before picking up a book and reading its pages behind the other musicians. There was glee and chaos, crooning and baying. It was the most heavenly of the circles of hell, just as the gods intended.
The setlist, evenly distributed across each of the band’s releases, took up 90 minutes, but there was no one in the crowd who would have complained if it went on for another 90. From the floor to the balcony, everyone inside Webster Hall knew they had witnessed a moment they will never let go of. The exquisite sin of this pleasured release will last a lifetime.
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/
