TSOL returned to the Observatory in Santa Ana this weekend, their second of three shows in a string of performances billed as possibly their last after a forty-six-year career. It was a night filled to the brim with great opening bands of all different types of punk rock, playing between the main stage and the venue’s smaller Constellation Room.

Opening the night was Cheeseball, a five-piece punk rock outfit from Long Beach, CA. Cheeseball played very riff-heavy punk in the vein of the Adolescents, with very humorous lyrics. With the charm turned up very high, lead singer Matt Hatcher took command of the crowd quickly and didn’t let go for the duration of the set. Between songs about hot dogs, Buzzballs, strip clubs, and Medieval Times, they were able to fit in a great cover of the Misfits’ “Where Eagles Dare.” If you are debating going to a show and you see their name on the bill, take a chance on them, and you will not be disappointed.

Skate punkers (in the literal sense of the word), Loose Trucks, kicked off things on the stage in the main room. I was late to their set and only really caught the back half of it, but I enjoyed what I saw. This five-piece from Anaheim, CA has clearly done their homework on all things Orange County punk rock, picking sounds from the region’s legendary and/or enduring acts and melding them into their own thing. Loose Trucks is the real deal and was a fantastic addition to the night’s lineup.

Despite the venue’s active two stages, each of the bands’ sets did not start until the band on the other stage had finished. While these stacked shows are great in theory, it’s difficult to see all the bands and still get a decent spot for the main event. This was the case with the Noise Agents, Knuckleheads, and the Zeros. I would have loved to have seen their sets, but the crowd for each set in the Constellation Room seemed to balloon in size as time went on; such is the nature of the beast. While the Observatory itself is a decent-sized venue able to handle simultaneous (but separate) shows in each of its rooms, its hallways were not built for this type of traffic.

The most interesting band of the night was by far Roundeye. They are an experimental punk rock band from China led by U.S. expat Chanchy Englund. I don’t know how to describe Roundeye, and I mean that in the best way. It’s a five-piece: two guitars, bass, drums, and saxophone. The saxophone player sort of moves around the stage as much as the rest of the band. It’s almost like Bill Pullman’s character in David Lynch’s Lost Highway. Musically, they are all over the place; some songs sounded like aggressive Replacements songs, some sounded like the Voodoo Glowskulls, and some sounded like hardcore punk songs. They closed their set strongly with a cover of Devo’s “Freedom of Choice” that was really good. I don’t know if any of that made sense, but it was really fucking cool. 

The Codefendants were next. I haven’t spent too much time with their album, but they seem to swing their fists and land somewhere between punk, ska, rap, and everything in between. Not in the Sublime way, but closer to how The Transplants do. However, you can’t really put them in the same boat as the Tim Armstrong-led group. All the bands played their fucking asses off that night, but Codefendants did it with a lot of heart. I do feel they are good at what they do, even if they were a weird fit for this show. However, a good portion of the attendees seemed to be there specifically for them.

TSOL took the stage at 9:15. While there were a lot of elder punks, a good number of kids and younger punks were there too: a testament to the band, which has collected multitudes of fans of all ages over their career. Opening with the moody “Beneath the Shadows,” from the album of the same name, the song was a primer before the crowd exploded into chaos at the first chords of “Sounds of Laughter.” The set followed this pattern throughout the night, hitting at least one song from each of the band’s albums. While I am long “pit” retired at this point, there was a reason why I had decided to take my chances on the floor. During the lead-up to the show, singer Jack Grisham announced that these may be the last shows TSOL plays, joining the ranks of bands like X, NOFX, and Cock Sparrer, who have decided to retire, whatever that looks like.

The last couple of years of the band had been hard on some of its members. For this round of shows, D.I. guitarist Trevor Lucca filled in for Mike Roche on bass. Lucca has been one of the interchangeable parts when members have been unable to perform. Roche hasn’t toured with the band since 2022 due to a Parkinson’s diagnosis that has seen him come up on stage here and there to play “Code Blue.” Ron Emory was sidelined in 2023 when he was plagued with some health issues of his own. Yet, Grisham carried on, as the band did when original drummer Todd Barnes passed away in 1999. To Jack’s credit, though, he has never treated this time like it was the Jack Grisham band.

TSOL is no stranger to breakups. Initially disbanded in 1983, the band reformed in 1999. After a shooting at one of their shows in 2002 got them into some legal trouble, the band almost called it quits in 2006. Early in the set, Jack acknowledged his declaration that this may be the band’s last round of shows, but also said there are a good number of people who wouldn’t have shown up if he hadn’t said that. It’s a few days later, and I’m still not sure if it will stick this time.

I mean that in the way that the band still sounds as solid as they always have, and no one seems burnt out. Jack still has his charm, his intensity, and still stalks the stage. Everyone in the crowd knows when he’s going to strike; we’ve all heard the songs a million times. Their staples never get old. You’re always just as excited to sing with Jack as you were the first time. Ron plays them with the same intensity. The young-blooded rhythm section supports them, not just along for the ride.

If this truly is the end of the road for TSOL, the band went out doing what they love: playing for a roomful of sweaty fans losing their shit while they push and slam and scream lyrics at the top of their lungs. Something they’ve done thousands of times over the past forty-six years. It didn’t have to be a big ordeal or size for it to be a fitting celebration from the best band to come out of Orange County.