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Photos by Stephen Schmidt

Monday night in Heaven at the Masquerade started off like any weeknight show, a little calmer and less attended than the weekends, but still with a school-night excitement. We trickled in early, shuffled around, and settled in to the tune of the pre-show music. The theme seemed to be jazz: big band, fusion, and swing. I could tell we were surrounded by adventurous listeners by how at home everyone seemed. Many tapped their feet or danced alone, some even boogied with a partner. We were off to a good start.

Violent Magic Orchestra (VMO), hailing from Osaka, Japan, kicked off the night with an explosive noise that at first I thought was equipment malfunctioning. Their set featured black-metal-flecked techno with both ethereal and guttural vocals, corpse paint, a jester-like spiked headpiece, and a flashlight that lead singer ザスター (Xasthur in Japanese Katakana script) shone into the crowd like a spotlight. Members ゴルゴロス (Gorgoroth) and メイヘム (Mayhem) both jumped into the crowd to rile up mosh pits (Do you see the naming pattern here, black metal aficionados?).

As an avid concertgoer, sometimes it feels like you’ve seen it all, and then you see a band like this. Their stage presence was completely original and captivating, and their music was both danceable and headbangable. By the end of the set, VMO had won the rest of the crowd and me over, with many flocking to their merch stand.

Next up was Secret Chiefs 3, a band I was really excited to see being a fan of Trey Spruance’s work with Mr. Bungle. Secret Chiefs 3 was a project he started in the mid-nineties as a more cerebral foil to the irreverent music Mr. Bungle was putting out at the time. In this set, however, you could hear some of the same surf rock, jazz, metal, and Middle Eastern influences that you’d hear in Bungle’s studio albums. Spruance himself was setting up before the show and tuning all of his instruments, one of which I believed to be a çağlama (a hybrid of the Turkish bağlama and an electric guitar), another an electric guitar with microtonal frets for those in-between notes that characterize the band’s style. He came back wearing a hoodie which concealed his face in a monastic fashion, perhaps a nod to the band’s obscure philosophical origins.

The Middle Eastern influence was tangible in the intricate microtonal shredding and unconventional time signatures. The song structures defied the typical Western verse-chorus formula and at times felt like a friendly joke on the audience: one song seemed about to end several times, even prompting applause, before the crowd caught on. Even so, there was an undeniable groove that you couldn’t help but (try to) dance to. These guys were masters of building tension and excitement in a way that felt surprisingly palatable, blending microtonal scales, metal grooves, and proggy synth in a jazz-like delivery.

Although many of us came for French musician Gautier Serre, who performs under the alias Igorrr, there was such an appreciation and respect for the bands thus far that I felt an air of peace in the room, as if to say, “take as long as you need to get set up, guys – we’re good out here!” Suddenly, some bubbles emerged from the dark fog of the stage and the crowd started cheering. Igorrr opened with “Daemoni,” the first song on their newest album Amen, which sets the perfect tone for both the album and the live show. The song opens with a heartbeat that leads into a droning chant before breaking into an intense onslaught of metal guitars and massive drums.

Out came our fearless bandleader, Gautier Serre, lit up with eerie red lights, along with harsh vocalist JB Le Bail, his skin painted ink-black with a gold stripe bisecting his face, wearing a hooded cape and archaic adornments. Gerda Iguchi brought the operatic vocals for the night, dancing around the stage in goddess-like garb, with completely black eyes and, at times, a horned mask, like some sort of heavy metal priestess. Gerda and JB were the perfect vessels for Serre’s artistic vision, marrying angelic, sometimes playful opera with both guttural and screeching harsh vocals, each with a mystical, enthralling stage presence. In the studio recordings, Serre adds a splintering effect to the vocals, and I was happy to hear it masterfully recreated live.

“Nervous Waltz” was celebrated by the crowd; you could see actual waltzing in the mosh pit during the Baroque-sounding passages, quickly breaking into moshing when the metal returned. Then came the highly awaited (for me, anyway) “Blastbeat Falafel,” the song that reignited my interest in this band when singles from Amen were first coming out. It combined Secret Chiefs-esque riffing from both guitarist Martyn Clément and Serre himself with JB’s signature in-your-face screams and, as the title suggests, blast beats courtesy of Rémi Serafino. And, true to form, one single, solitary strike of a cowbell.

As the show went on, there were moments of just Serre in the spotlight on stage, like during the chaotic electronic mishmash known as “ADHD.” We got to hear more of the unorthodox instrumentation that sets this group apart, including the Baroque-reminiscent harpsichord, wobbly dubstep effects, and even a few little toots from a recorder played by Serre. We were even lucky enough to get an encore which included the first Igorrr song I ever heard, “Camel Dancefloor,” another frenetic, Middle Eastern-tinged tune with heavy metal chugs, more wobbles, blast beats, and extreme vocals to bring it all home.

One remarkable thing about this entire show, all three bands, was the pacing. There was not a single dull moment – from start to finish it was captivating and full of motion and sonic atmosphere. There was a distinct lack of on-stage banter, no “we’re gonna play a song called…” – they just got up there and played. They still made the crowd laugh at times just by way of not taking themselves too seriously and creating these unexpected musical moments. And even for a Monday night, the crowd brought the energy; folks were hanging on every note just like I was. I might be biased as a lover of strange music, but I have very little critique of this show. My only teeny tiny wish was that Trey would have joined Igorrr on stage for “Blastbeat Falafel,” as in the YouTube video of the studio recording that came across my proverbial desk so many months ago and spurred this fixation on the band. Aside from that, if you get the chance to see any of these bands, whether on this tour or in the future, you would be insane to pass it up. But then again, you have to be a little bit insane to enjoy this music in the first place.

The post CONCERT REVIEW: IGORRR, SECRET CHIEFS 3 & VIOLENT MAGIC ORCHESTRA Bring Avant-Garde Chaos To Atlanta’s Masquerade appeared first on Sonic Perspectives.

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Record-breaking, platinum-selling rock band The Pretty Reckless have released “About You,” (Bonus Version) originally featured on the band’s fifth studio album, Dear God. The new version features Foo Fighters’ Dave Grohl on drums, guitar, and backing vocals, alongside Pat Smear on guitar.

Taylor Momsen says of the collaboration, “‘About You’ is one of my favorite songs on the record, so I wanted to do something special. I called Dave and Pat and asked them if they’d lend their magic to it. It was an amazing time in the studio making music, there’s nothing better than jamming with friends. I couldn’t be happier with the result.”

The release follows a landmark campaign for Dear God, one of the defining rock records of 2026. “When I Wake Up” extended The Pretty Reckless’ record-breaking streak with the band’s ninth No. 1 on Billboard’s Mainstream Rock Airplay chart, the most by any female-led act in the chart’s history. Produced by Taylor Momsen, Ben Phillips, and Jonathan Wyman, their fifth studio album finds The Pretty Reckless embracing vulnerability, intensity, and creative freedom, delivering one of the band’s most unfiltered releases to date.

Following the completion of the North American leg of their headlining Dear God Tour and wrapping up the AC/DC Power Up Tour after almost 3 years on the road with the rock legends, The Pretty Reckless recently performed at the Grammy Museum, offering fans an intimate look at their music and creative process. Momsen also reunited with Soundgarden at the Seattle Seahawks’ season opener last month, joining the legendary rock band for a special performance.

Additionally, the lead singer joined Matt Cameron, Mike McCready, Tom Morello, and Robbie Mangano for a Soundgarden tribute at this year’s Power to the People Festival. The band are currently preparing to hit the road again for the European leg of the Dear God Tour. Routing can be found below and tickets are available here.

Dear God Tour Headline Routing:

EU/UK:
Mon, Nov 9th – La Riviera, Madrid, ES
Tue, Nov 10th – Razzmatazz, Barcelona, ES
Sat, Nov 14th – Fabrique, Milan, IT
Mon, Nov 16th – Forum Karlín, Prague, CZ
Wed, Nov 18th – Huxleys Neue Welt, Berlin, DE
Sat, Nov 21st – Carlswerk Victoria, Cologne, DE
Mon, Nov 23rd – AFAS Live, Amsterdam, NL
Tue, Nov 24th – Zénith, Paris, FR
Thu, Nov 26th – The Prospect Building, Bristol, UK
Fri, Nov 27th – Civic Hall, Wolverhampton, UK
Sun, Nov 29th – O2 Victoria Warehouse, Manchester, UK
Tue, Dec 1st – O2 Academy Brixton, London, UK
Thu, Dec 3rd – Barrowland, Glasgow, UK

The post THE PRETTY RECKLESS Release “About You” From Latest Album “Dear God” appeared first on Sonic Perspectives.

Of all the elder statesmen of death metal, Morbid Angel was a band I never really understood. Sure, I’d heard Altars of Madness, but my fresh ears were put off by its thin production when more thickly bludgeoning was to be had. The more immediate violence of bands like Cannibal Corpse and the unearthly foulness of Demilich and seepage of Autopsy ensnared my growing tastes, and each return to Morbid Angel left me feeling cold and empty. One day, everything changed when I encountered the subject of today’s retrospective in a record store, adorned in what I still consider some of Dan Seagrave’s most entrancing artwork. It was the artwork that made the difference, and on impulse I purchased the CD, only to spend the drive home with it, having my gateways opened in a manner that ensured they could never be closed again.

While I’ve since come around to the band’s older works, Gateways to Annihilation still represents the apex of the Morbid Angel sound. Steve Tucker’s vocals took on much more personality than his more neutral, gravely sounds on Formulas Fatal to the Flesh, with a much more confident, bestial roar. The eternal avalanche of Pete Sandoval’s drumming was given proper thunder, bringing weight to the sludgy, psychedelic dirges of “To the Victor, the Spoils”, to say nothing of the street-certified death classic that is “Summoning Redemption”. Taking the spirit of the crawl found within Blessed are the Sick and running it through a much trippier lens gives Gateways as radiant an individual identity as any in the Morbid Angel canon, and the power of the production is chief among its traits.

From a songwriting perspective, Gateways to Annihilation manages a difficult fusion of speeds, at once sounding doomy and menacing without ever slouching on its actual BPM and deathly ferocity. “Ageless, Still I Am” pulls an earworm of a lurching chorus and one of Trey’s most triumphant leads, while “Opening of the Gates” features one of Steve’s most “shout-along” verses he’s yet penned. “God of the Forsaken” returns to a taste of the Altars assault, and everywhere you turn speed is fused with menace and pacing in a manner which illustrates all the comparisons in the band’s history to lava. Speaking of lava, Trey’s solos take on a unique flavor, even by his standards, using prolonged notes and string bends as much as raw shredding virtuosity. His extended run across “Secured Limitations” should have been a setlist staple a long time ago, and curious listeners trying to understand how the idea of psychedelic sludge can work in death metal should start here for an illustration. His solos always manage to elevate the music, rather than distract by virtue of their “look how fast I can play” skill, and here they reach new atmospheric heights as they shift with impeccable seamlessness into piercing high-range scales and anguished tones, somehow hypnotic in their beauty without ever touching on anything approaching common, sing-along melodies.

This paradoxical nature is what grants Gateways to Annihilation its contender status as one of Morbid Angel’s best works. While the Vincent era albums each had an equally firm mission statement, those statements were clear and simple, from the riff fest of Covenant to the grinding bounce of Domination. But Gateways to Annihilation finds its identity in the flawless fusion of its disparaging elements, rather than merely shifting focus on each one in turn. Plenty of death-doom hybrids exist, but Gateways defies this label while drawing heavily from these ingredients in equal measure. It’s objectively one of the slowest albums in the Morbid Angel canon, challenged (and arguably usurped) only by Blessed are the Sick, but you’d be looked at curiously if you called it a doom-adjacent album. The melodies come forth with piss and vinegar, but never descend into a wankfest of finger flexing. The drums blast away with uncompromising brutality, but their weight and might only make the slower portions crawl and ooze that much more powerfully. This auditory alchemy is enthralling, wielding the headbangable and the stargazing in equal measure, and each new listen reveals some new nuance or detail, letting songs unveil themselves to you for the first time all over again.

Over the years since I first heard it, Gateways to Annihilation has cemented itself as one of my favorite death records of all time. From the opening croaking of the frogs in “Kawazu” that triggers my homesickness for Florida, it captivates and brutalizes with an even touch. I owe this album to finally solving the mystery of Morbid Angel and ultimately catapulting them to one of my favorite founding fathers of the genre. But though I’ve learned to appreciate the gourmet buffet riffing of Covenant, basked in the otherworldly atmospheres of Formulas Fatal to the Flesh, and enjoyed deeply of the alien soloing of Altars of Madness, none of them come close to capturing the mood and presence this album creates. If you haven’t listened to it in a while, celebrate its upcoming 26th birthday and give it a spin. You never know what might be waiting for you, just beyond the gates…

Now their gazing eyes have turned…
Turned to see us laughing…

The post Yer Metal Is Olde: Morbid Angel – Gateways to Annihilation appeared first on Angry Metal Guy.

Great to see another sold out Big Ginger Tom Music promoted gig at Harwell Village Hall. Proof that you can still keep the grassroots scene going, although it is getting harder and harder to maintain. Roswell Road, ta duo consisting … Continue reading →

The post Gig review: THE DUNWELLS – Harwell Village Hall, 16 October 2026 appeared first on Get Ready to ROCK!.

Coinciding with the arrival of their new album, Netherworlds, Finland’s masters of melancholy unveil the epic “The Hour Grows Late” featuring Tomi Joutsen, Tomi Koivusaari, and Santeri Kallio.

Markus Vanhala (guitar) comments: “‘The Hour Grows Late’ falls on the more epic side of the Insomnium spectrum, perhaps alongside classics like ‘Pale Morning Star’ and ‘Godforsaken.’ It’s a longer adventure in music, venturing a little further into the progressive dark side of the album’s moon. We’re paying respect to the people who have fallen before us while we’re left alone in the dark and cold, with only two companions by our side: misery and sorrow. The new album deals with themes of loss, growing old, and missing all the people and creatures who have left us behind and headed to the Netherworld. The rest of us will follow with certainty, but not yet.”

He adds about the guests on the song: “I had been thinking about asking my good buddy and band bro from Cemetery Skyline, Maverick or Goose, depending on the day, Mr. Santeri Kallio, to play an acid-trippy synth solo in the chaotic middle section of the song. At the same time, our producer, Miiro Varjus, came up with the idea of asking both Tomis to guest on vocals on this very same song. The fact that these two ideas came together felt like such perfect synchronicity that we simply couldn’t not make it happen. The boys did well, and I’m especially happy to hear good old cookie monster, old-school Tomi Koivusaari growling.””

If you’re wondering about the white ribbons seen throughout the video: Karsikko is a sacred memorial tree tradition in Finnish and Karelian folklore. These trees served as symbolic boundaries between the worlds of the living and the dead. During funeral processions, a mark was carved into a designated tree to commemorate the deceased, while ribbons and strips of clothing were hung on ancestral trees to honor their memory and help ensure their souls found peace.

Netherworlds is available here in the following formats:

• Ltd. Deluxe 2CD Artbook
• Standard CD Jewelcase
• Gatefold black 2LP
• Ltd. Gatefold pearlescent deep-blue 2LP (600x) Napalm Records/EMP/Nuclear Blast
• Ltd. Gatefold sparkle starlight 2LP (500x) Band
• Ltd. Gatefold iridescent pearl dawn 2LP (500x) Band
• Gatefold translucent sea blue 2LP (US version)
• Digital album

Insomnium is also embarking on an extensive touring run, kicking off with a string of Finnish shows. In November and December, they will head to the USA and Canada with Amorphis, supported by Hinayana. After a short break over the holiday season, the band will return to the road alongside Amorphis for a European tour in January and February 2027, with support from Unto Others.

Ever since emerging from the mist-laden town of Joensuu in Karelia, Insomnium has served as a guiding light for those drawn to the shadows. Now, for the tenth time, they lift the curtain on a new chapter—an album steeped in Finnish melancholy, where haunting melodies intertwine with the unrelenting force of ferocious melodic death metal.

Now, for the tenth time, Insomnium opens the door to a new chapter. Their new album is a journey deeper into the shadows, steeped in the unmistakable spirit of Finnish melancholy and enriched by the band’s most nuanced and emotionally resonant songwriting to date. Sweeping atmospheres, poignant melodies, and crushing heaviness intertwine to create a work that is both deeply personal and universally affecting.

Never content to rest on past achievements or repeat familiar formulas, Insomnium continues to evolve with each release. Rather than revisiting established ground, the band explores new emotional and sonic territories, broadening its artistic palette while preserving the qualities that have made its sound instantly recognizable. The result is an album that feels both fresh and timeless: a bold step forward that remains unmistakably Insomnium at its core.

Behind the scenes, Netherworlds also marks the beginning of a new production era for Insomnium. Taking on a pivotal role throughout the album’s creation, producer and engineer Miiro Varjus emerged as the band’s closest creative confidant, helping to shape and refine the record’s sonic landscape. His meticulous approach and deep understanding of the band’s artistic vision proved instrumental in bringing the album’s dark, immersive atmosphere to life.

Once again, Insomnium entrusted the album to the renowned team at Fascination Street Studios. Acclaimed producer and mixer Jens Bogren, together with mastering engineer Tony Lindgren, delivered the album’s powerful final sound. The result is a record that sounds both majestic and intimate, perfectly capturing the emotional weight and dynamic range that define this new chapter in Insomnium‘s evolution.

The post INSOMNIUM Mourns The Dead In “The Hour Grows Late” Featuring Tomi Joutsen, Tomi Koivusaari & Santeri Kallio appeared first on Sonic Perspectives.

Photos by Mary Sunde
Review by Brian Nielsen

Day one left me feeling every bit of my age. I woke up drained and devoid of spoons, lacking the will to leave the house. Inertia was my enemy; I was unsure I had the fuel to complete another day of the festival, let alone two. The fear of failure became somewhat self-fulfilling. I missed several bands because of task paralysis induced by anxiety that I would crap out and be unable to cover the end of the fest. A younger me would have had enough drive and curiosity to depart without trouble. However today, after an unfortunately long inner battle, it was only my sense of duty to Dying Scene that finally prevailed, enabling me to put on pants and call a Lyft to Douglass Park.

 I had every intention of arriving in time for Melt-Banana; they were a regular on my portable music player circa 2005. It’s been a long time since I’ve listened to them, but I distinctly remember the spastic, hyperactive vocal style. I was never able to see them live back in the day—a tradition I shamefully carried on to the present by not leaving on time. The list isn’t over yet; Angine de Poitrine blew past too. I discovered them earlier this year when I bought into Rick Beato’s clickbait YouTube title, “Please STOP sending me this,” where he finally gives in to the viewers flooding his inbox asking for his take on the band. I think they’re fascinating, and it brings me joy that a band is doing something so weird and different—so different and weird—something borderline unmusical, but they are still getting mainstream attention for it. I have not developed a taste for the microtonal nature of their songs yet, but I listen to a lot of music now that I didn’t understand how to appreciate earlier in life, so we’ll see where it goes.

At least I left in time to catch Thrice. Well, some of Thrice. At least I thought I would make it to the end of their set. Travel times were longer than estimated and I did not see any of their set. I had forgotten Thrice existed for the better part of two decades, but their newer songs have been popping up in my recommended streaming lists and they’ve caught my ear. I’m, like, really bad at this; maybe I’ll have better luck next time they come through Chicago.

I FINALLY made it through the gates and onto the festival grounds in time for Social Distortion. I vividly remember “I Was Wrong” playing in heavy rotation around ‘97 on Q101, Chicago’s legendary local alternative rock station. Despite loving the track, I didn’t deeply explore their catalog until years later. It contains no shortage of fantastic songs. White Light, White Heat, White Trash is a timeless punk treasure that deserves to be played in its entirety. That being said, I held modest expectations for the performance this year. The first time I saw Social D was long enough ago that I don’t remember any details, except that it was great and I was incredibly excited to see them again. However, the second and most recent time I saw them—which, to be fair, was 20 years ago—I left the venue relatively underwhelmed. They played the songs tightly without mistakes, but every song just felt like it was dragging. The tempos fell noticeably shy of what I remembered from the albums. Maybe their drummer just needed some uppers that night and couldn’t get any, or maybe my internal clock just set me up with unrealistic expectations. My perception could have been the problem, not their performance; they are professionals after all.

Regardless, I did not leave underwhelmed this time—the boys were kicking ass and taking names. The band was mostly dressed to impress with expensive-looking pants and dress shirts that were still tailored and worn with a punk rock edge. The beautiful, classy vintage Gibson guitars completed the look, however the drummer’s LA Dodgers hat felt like he thought it was casual Friday. Their set was tight, punchy, and full of energy. The performance was strong right from the start with “Born to Kill,” and “Mommy’s Little Monster” gave me a lovely nostalgia dose. I left early so I could see some of the Descendents, but I left pleasantly satisfied.

I honestly haven’t listened to the Descendents much since my formative punk years. Back in my day, we couldn’t see the Descendents in concert because they were broken up. All we had was ALL, and we had to make do with it. I remember seeing them at the House of Blues before I was old enough to drive. They sounded great and all, but comparatively, while the bands hold a similar sound and attitude, the Descendents just have better songs. Or maybe they’re just more memorable. Or maybe I just remember them better because that CD was in my car and got played more often. I guess I can’t make an objective comparison here, but subjectively, I have to say I enjoyed the Descendents in 2026 more than I enjoyed ALL in ’98. Noteworthy moment: the brief guitar solo in “Dog House.” It started out with a quick shred, then got loose and noodly as he searched for notes he didn’t quite find, and ended with a sharply dissonant melodic phrase that was almost atonal. I don’t remember the album version enough to know if that was intentional or a cover-up, but it was awesome and made me smile either way.

I was ahead of schedule when I went to the Radical stage to get ready for Chat Pile, which proved serendipitous, as Vana was playing and they were awesome. I’m getting kind of sick of modern metal songwriting—I find the majority of it displeasingly homogeneous—but I found myself really liking Vana’s songs. The riffs and progressions are catchy, not just technical. There’s a decent smear of electronic elements in the songs and even some hip-hop-ish parts for breaks and transitions. The frontwoman was straight-up dripping with stage presence and raw energy. She wasn’t afraid to dance while pacing around the stage like a caged animal, supporting her lyrics with both facial expression and body language. I am a sucker for the singing of a clean, melodic female voice mixed with anguished screaming passages, especially when it’s one person doing both parts. She pulled that style off beautifully. Their music carried serious production value for a band playing this early on one of the smaller stages. I’m generally not a fan of backing tracks, but I felt these were tasteful and created an atmosphere that four musicians alone could not make on one stage, blending well with the rock-solid instrumentation and not overshadowing it. The guitar work was full of heavy, djenty, downtuned riffs and the bass complemented it with that wonderful “klank” tone that Korn pioneered in the 90s. They didn’t overdo it, but occasionally they augmented dramatic snare drum hits with an effect that made it sound like a cannon detonating deep in a cavernous space.

Until the literal day of the festival, Chat Pile had gone completely under my radar. I am slowly realizing that I may live under a rock when it comes to current music. Thankfully, Mary told me they were worth making time for. Boy howdy, she was right. Chat Pile is aggressive, abrasive, thick, and exquisitely doomy. I loved the fact they were able to deliver the crushing, oppressive doom vibe without playing painfully slow. They have a sound that is distinct and easily recognizable, but unique enough that I really don’t know who to compare them to. Or maybe the comparable bands just haven’t found their way to the rock I live under yet. Doesn’t matter, I’m hooked. As they took the stage, before their first song exploded, I couldn’t help but think their singer looked strikingly like Jim Breuer. It was almost as if he had teleported straight from the 1990s but somehow grew a mustache on his way here. The visuals were misleading, and I was not prepared for his unsettling yet powerful vocal delivery.

Tool was cool. I only caught their first two songs, though, because it was infinitely more important for me to secure a prime spot for Bad Religion. Tool’s performance was highly anticipated, and I wish I had more to say about it. From where I was standing, I couldn’t get a good view of the band members, and to no one’s surprise, they were not broadcast on the video displays at all. The band instead opted for their signature trippy, avant-garde visuals. The set opened with a wall of feedback and eerie guitar noise while electricity from a Jacob’s Ladder climbed up the video displays. As the opening notes of “Stinkfist” kicked in, the projection cut to surreal, alien-like shapes and structures. The structures contained extraterrestrial humanoid beings that reminded me of the Engineers from Prometheus—except they were wearing khakis and sporting total dad bods. Weird. I can definitely see how seeing Tool could be a hallowed experience in the right setting, one that leaves a mark on a true fan. However, I am a casual fan at best. From where I was standing, it was kind of like listening to the studio recordings of the songs really loud while watching one of their music videos outside on a giant TV.

I’ve seen Bad Religion enough times to lose count—at least 10 times, probably closer to 15. I have never once been disappointed and always leave euphoric. That held true this year at Riot Fest, but for the first time, things were a bit bittersweet and complicated. I never thought I’d have the official opportunity to photograph a band of this magnitude that holds such deep, foundational importance to my musical identity, and I was ecstatic that it was happening. At the same time, watching a show through a viewfinder while devoting most of your attention to what will make a good photo is a vastly different experience than being present and getting lost while connecting with your favorite band, even in the best conditions.

And I was not in the best conditions. I was shooting the band from the edge of the general standing area, using an unwieldy, massive telephoto lens. I had been using it for the whole festival at this point, but truth be told, it was a new purchase I made specifically to shoot BR. The distance, coupled with being stuck with a single static vantage point and using new equipment I was still getting used to, made for a challenging shoot. The photos I got genuinely fall short of my best work by a noticeable measure, but I don’t care. I am still in absolute disbelief that I got to photograph them; it is one of the highest honors I’ve had.

Musically, they sounded every bit as phenomenal, fast, and precise as every other time I’ve seen them over the last 25 or so years. Nothing will top seeing them play at a Riot Fest after-show at the legendary, now-defunct Double Door—a venue small and intimate enough that my band was able to play there. I got to see Bad Religion play on a stage I had already been on the other side of. Nothing is going to beat that experience, but this one was still extraordinary. I was thrilled by the number of songs they were able to fit into their timeslot, including several of my personal favorites. Despite the challenging photo conditions, something special lit up inside the back of my mind when I was able to recognize a favorite less than three seconds in. “Generator,” “I Want to Conquer the World,” “No Control,” “Struck a Nerve,” “Suffer,” “Infected,” “21st Century Digital Boy,” and “You” all had that effect.

Hilarious highlight: Greg was talking to the crowd after the second or third song and jokingly said they would get right back to playing “as soon as that garage band is finished.” The stages were close enough together that in between Bad Religion songs you could easily make out what Tool was playing. Jay quickly chimed in to point out they have shared concert bills together before, the first time dating back to the 1980s.

Riot Fest shortened the schedule due to impending rain, and Bad Religion was one of the last bands to play, with their cutoff time listed as 8:00 PM. Much to my joy, the rain was later than expected, and Bad Religion was still going when I checked my watch at 8:10. Nothing lasts forever, though. Shortly after jinxing things by checking the time, I heard the opening harmonics of “Sorrow.” I had seen them close their set with this song so many times before that I was sure it must be the last one. I quickly put my camera away before the opening vocals were sung so I could be off the clock and lose myself in the last song. It was everything I hoped it would be, and in a “But wait, there’s more!” moment, they went straight into “American Jesus” before exiting the stage.

Two days down, one marathon day to go. Check out the gallery from day two below!