Bad Religion vocalist Greg Gaffin's UW-Madison shirt.
Riot Fest is potentially the most polarized festival out there. Walking into the grounds on Friday, the contrast between Hot Topic tweens with My Chemical Romance back patches and graying, chill punk dads was hilariously stark. The contrast between having a great time and having a terrible time became even more obvious throughout the weekend, with great shows and people equally matched with cold, rainy weather and some of the worst human beings in the world. However, this isn't to say attending Riot Fest was a bad choice. Overall, the festival served its purpose: sweet, sweet nostalgia, whether it's for CBGB's or the 2004 Warped Tour.
We missed a few great sets (Dinosaur Jr., X, Blondie, Guided by Voices) due to catching an excellent Los Crudos and Infest show at Chitown Futbol. We rated shows on a scale of 0 to 5 mohawks. Rock on, nerds.
-5/5 Blink-182 crowd. Dear crowd of Blink-182, you are destroyers of a childhood dream. As I awaited eagerly in the pit for the melodies of age 12 to begin, your bro tanks, striped hoodies and joints were cumbersome yet expected. However, once the show began, you spiraled out of control. You pushed forward and engulfed people standing on the side into a massive bro pit that could only be escaped by pushing back. Did you know, Blink-182 crowd, that you sent six people to the hospital? Did you know, Blink-182 crowd, that we spent ten minutes searching for our shoes that you pushed off our feet? Blink-182 crowd, did you know that you ruined everything? Despicable. How dare you? Love, Natalie. P.S. Blink-182 ruled and was completely ruined by this crowd. “Always” gave me tears. They shot confetti during the insanity that was “Dammit.” Again, HOW DARE YOU?. – NA
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Gq8LeKfuiM
1/5 Danzig. As I walked up to the stage where Danzig played I took special care to avoid the bloody tampon surrounded by a puddle of blood on the concrete, though other fans didn't seem to mind standing in it. After waiting through about 2 minutes of introductory spooky Halloween sounds and chest-rumbling bass effects, the crowd exploded as Danzig took to the stage with a hilarious amount of energy for a man of his size. The first two songs were newer cuts from his solo records that sounded like dumb Pantera rip-offs, during which he rapidly paced around on stage, most of the time forgetting to sing directly into the mic. Later on, however, he resurrected a few Misfits songs that sounded mediocre at best. Sorry, Glenn. – ZS
3/5 AFI. Before AFI took the stage, I got goosebumps while looking across the field and seeing their massive banner draped behind a wall of gear. When I was a sad preadolescent I spent my summer days skateboarding around listening to The Art of Drowning front to back, on repeat. After AFI took the stage, I felt a little embarrassed and mostly disappointed. Davey Havok ran around stage the whole time, dramatically falling to his knees and whipping his Flock-of-Seagulls haircut as he sang. It was silly. They played mostly newer material, which I wasn't too familiar with, but the older songs like “Days of the Phoenix” and “God Called In Sick Today” resurrected the dumb angst I felt at 12-years old. – ZS
3/5 Brand New. Your Favorite Weapon was my definitive album of sixth grade: scruffy, angsty pop-punk with lines like “I blame myself ‘cause I make things hard” and “even if her plane crashes tonight, she'll find some way to disappoint me.” As I found out, that shouldn't have been my expectations for a Brand New show. They mostly played cuts from their latest album Daisy, which leans more towards slowcore and post-rock. It was the perfect soundtrack to the rainy Sunday afternoon, although sometimes a bit too mopey (too mopey?!). However, I (and the weirdly bro crowd) had our moment of redemption when they played “Seventy Times 7” from Your Favorite Weapon, screaming the lines that defined our childhood: “I've seen more spine in a jellyfish. I've seen more guts in 11-year-old kids.” Also shouts out to Jesse Lacey's Morrissey haircut and highlighter-yellow sneaker combo. – NA
4/5 Fall Out Boy. This was my second time this year seeing one of the most game-changing bands of my life. They played a photo montage of literally only people with mohawks holding hands to whatever the ballad is on their new album. They showed that they were True Punks and covered Naked Raygun but extravagantly ended the show by bringing the Stanley Cup on stage for no apparent reason. It was all so beautiful. – NA
4/5 Joan Jett & the Blackhearts. Potentially the most macho, rock ‘n' roll set of the festival, Joan Jett & the Blackhearts brought some serious muscle to a night dominated by the Warped Tour (Fall Out Boy), theatrics (Danzig) and serious weed (Sublime). “Cherry Bomb” sounded as sassy as it did when she played it as a teenager, and the mosh pit that broke out during “Bad Reputation” was probably one of the coolest things all weekend. – NA
4.5/5 Peter Hook & the Light. Seeing “Peter Hook Plays Joy Division” on the lineup seemed like it could be pretty gimmicky. It kind of was, but it was one of the best sets of the weekend. Hook sang and played the iconic bass lines from songs like “Shadowplay,” “Isolation,” and “Love Will Tear Us Apart” with a full band, including his son on bass. They sounded spectacular, with Peter Hook putting his own subtle spin on Ian Curtis's vocals while staying true to the roots of the music. It felt close enough to Joy Division to stick with me the rest of the day. – NA
5/5 Bad Religion vocalist Greg Gaffin's UW-Madison shirt. Duh. – NA
5/5 Quicksand. From the opening bass line of “Omission” to the rolling drums closing out “Thorn In My Side,” Quicksand completely delivered. Singer and guitarist Walter Schreifels sounded like he hadn't aged a day since the band's initial breakup in 1995, and as a whole they sounded tight as ever. Their set was highlighted by classics like “Dine Alone” and “Fazer,” during which they derailed into improvised jams drenched with delay. Though the crowd was pretty sparse, it was clear from the flailing arms and nodding heads that devoted fans were completely into the set, as was I. – ZS
5/5 Infest & Los Crudos (not affiliated with Riot Fest). Wow. I can't even begin to explain how energetic and spot-on these sets were. Infest exploded into their set with “Break the Chain,” sending the crowd into utter insanity complete with stage dives and circle pits. Though their discography amounts to about half an hour of music in its entirety, it felt so much longer due to the sheer number of songs they packed into their time on stage. The highlight of their set was definitely “Sick-O,” which prompted one guy to climb a 15-foot tall stack of speaker monitors and subsequently fall front-first into the crowd. Amazing.
Los Crudos took the stage and spared no time for silence. All of their material was perfectly executed with ripping guitars and pummeling drums dominating every inch of space in the venue that doubles as a soccer stadium. Front man Martin Sorrondeguy filled the time in between songs by raising awareness of political issues in Mexico City, and by offering praise for the hardcore scene and its importance in sheltering individuals living in troubled neighborhoods from the violence of street gangs. To close, Crudos played “Asesinos,” pulling energy from every person in the room. Again, amazing. These sets were hands down the highlight of my weekend. – ZS
6/5: The Replacements. “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity!” howled every sweaty dad sporting a Cubs baseball hat and double-fisting cups of $7 PBR at the Riot Stage on Sunday night. And so it was, O Wise Dads. This was one of the Replacements' first shows in 22 years, and despite the massive crowd, the freezing weather, the wettest shoes I've worn in my life, Paul Westerberg, Tommy Stinson, and company put on the best and most intimate show of the weekend. From youthful, fast-pacedcuts like opener “Takin' A Ride” and “Tommy Got His Tonsils Out” to commercial hits like “Bastards of Young” and “Merry Go Round,” they brought the same energy and nonchalance they had in the early eighties. Evidence: Paul Westerberg throwing the clock counting down the end of the set to the ground, saying “f– you, clock!” and telling the audience to tell him when to stop playing because he's “a music biz professional.” It didn't feel like a formulated gimmick or a reunion tour. It felt like a band reinvigorated by the passion and endurance of the songs they and the thousands of fans watching love. – NA
