Another year, another St. Patrick’s Day bash with Celtic punk legends Flatfoot 56, this year featuring Liberty & Justice plus fellow Chicago-based punk bands Downtown Struts and Won’t Stay Dead. Tag teaming this show with me is fellow Dying Scener Brian Nielsen!
Chicago’s horror pop-punk Won’t Stay Dead have been keeping busy, releasing their debut Red Scare Industries album Vindication last December and playing a slew of shows since. They will be playing their first international show for Pouzza Fest in Montreal this May!
Hardcore punk from Houston, Texas, Liberty & Justice flew out of the gate with their own brand of street punk and oi; not only do they sound like a good time, they are a good time!
Chicago’s own Downtown Struts are back! Besides their highly-energetic performance, the band also celebrated the 15th anniversary of their debut EP Sail the Seas Dry with a vinyl re-pressing, along with with their debut full length album Victoria! via Pirate Press Records.
From here we’re switching gears to Brian’s take on the show (thanks Brian!)
Growing up I was most aware of my Danish heritage, as my grandfather was 100% and my dad was very proud of that. But according to Ancestry.com, I’m more Irish than anything else. I knew I was a little Irish, but finding out it was the majority of my genetics was a surprise. Even knowing this, I’m still not big on celebrating St. Patrick’s Day. Even in my drunken heydays, St. Paddy’s Day still felt overly excessive. One of my dearest friends was a bouncer for most of his career; having to deal with the shitshow every year, he came to refer to it as “ashamed to be Irish day.” Those words still echo in my head every year, and I usually celebrate by staying home and not drinking.
This year I broke tradition. This year, Dying Scene called for my participation. Mary Sunde had an extra guest list slot to see Flatfoot 56 at Reggie’s and so generously offered it to me. She suggested I do the write-up to accompany her photo gallery, and I felt it was the least I could do to show my gratitude. Of course, I was out of state when I got the invite, and I couldn’t make it back in time to see the whole show. But I was able to make it back for the Downtown Struts and Flatfoot, so a healthy dose of rock, my face did receive. Oh yes.
I’m a fucking nerd for music gear, so let’s get that out of the way first. It might get boring; don’t feel bad about skipping to the next paragraph. The Struts and Flatfoot shared amps and drums. I didn’t recognize the badge on the drum set, and even with maximum zoom on my phone, I could not read the name. Whoever made them, they had a beautiful, sparkly gold burst finish, and the sound engineers at Reggie’s had them sounding pounding. Full of deep sustain and heavy punch in the attack. I would imagine it was the result of equal parts the quality of the kit and the talent of the engineers. Both guitars sounded perfect for the Struts’ genre. Just the right amount of distortion, not too much not too little, and a very balanced frequency response. Both guitars were going through unmarked 4×12 cabs. Rhythm was using a Mesa Triple Rec; the cab was bare wood, possibly something modern and boutique, or maybe a vintage cab with the tolex removed to show off the woodgrain. Whatever it was, even though I was right up front with it blasting loud and aimed right at my head, it sounded full, rich, and pleasant for the Struts. That is pretty damn impressive in those circumstances.
Flatfoot dialed in some extra top-end bite to the amp, and that was a little harsh where I was standing. It was a classic punk rock sound, though, and I’m sure the tone was excellent for everyone not caught in the headlights of the amp like I was. The other guitar was going through a silverface Fender head and another unmarked cab. If it previously had a name on it, it had been replaced with a decorative boat anchor. To the best I could tell, the amp was dialed into a full-sounding clean tone, and both bands fed a tasteful distortion into it and made it sing. Again, I had the other guitar amp beaming sound directly into my earholes, so it was a little difficult to hear the other amp, but everything I could hear from it was excellent. Bass ran through an Ampeg SVT tube head; I’m guessing the model was an SVT Classic. The Ampeg ran into an Emperor cab with 6 speakers—I think they were ten inchers but it’s possible they were twelves. Regardless, bass tone was on point. Deep low end you could feel and a clean high end that made the basslines easy to pick out.
Alright, as for the actual performances, they were excellent. I had been so busy prior to the show, and in such a rush to get there, I didn’t even know who was opening. As such; I had no idea who I was listening to while the Downtown Struts were playing. The sound was familiar, though. It reminded me of a slightly less aggressive version of some of my favorite local Chicago melodic post-punk bands from the mid-to-late 2000s. And that tracks, as the band formed in 2008 in Chicago. The name is incredibly familiar, and I almost certainly saw them share a bill with one of my many favorite local bands back in the day. Before I knew their backstory, there were hints, as one of the guitar players spoke about waking up one day in your 40s, getting ready to get on stage and play music you haven’t performed since your 20s. The sentiment hit home with me in my 42nd year, still playing in a band I started when I was 15.
The guitars were hitting a distortion sweet spot, full and articulate. The chord progressions were driving. The melodies were catchy. Both guitar players traded off singing lead and playing lead. It was really cool to see them share the spotlight, and they each brought unique character to the songs, keeping things from ever getting stale. Many of the choruses featured both guitar players and the bassist singing together, and if I knew the lyrics it would have had me singing along too. The drums pounded and carried just enough finesse to hold my interest as a snooty drummer myself, without being too busy or getting in the way of the straightforward driving feel of the songs. The bass held a similar style as the drums, doing exactly what it was supposed to do. It tied all the instruments together, playing just enough melody to stay interesting without fighting the guitars for attention.
The crowd was clearly having a good time. When the band shouted, “Fuck ICE,” everyone agreed. There was a group of about 10 people in the middle of the floor having a great time dancing and singing along. Pretty safe bet they were all old fans soaking in the nostalgia, reliving the good old days. Newcomers seemed equally impressed with the band. Case in point, I had a dude come up to me after the show and tell me how great my set was. For a brief second I thought he recognized me from my show at Live Wire a few weeks prior, but I quickly realized he thought I was one of the guitar players from the Struts, and his kind words were meant for them.
Even though I couldn’t place any of their songs when I was invited to the show, I was very familiar with the name Flatfoot 56. Besides the fact they recently played a secret show in the basement of my friend and former bandmate, I have seen the name on countless flyers. Even though I couldn’t pull a memory of seeing them live, I was sure I had. That is, until the bagpipe player came out on stage. I considered bagpipes to be one of the most unpleasant sounding instruments in existence, so had I seen them, I definitely should have remembered that—unless maybe if I blacked out the memory because it was that terrible. But once the band started playing, all evidence pointed against the blackout theory. Not only did the sound of the bagpipes not stab me in the ears, it actually complemented the rest of the music quite well. Another pleasant surprise! The band showed their Chicago roots early in the set with an anecdote about chugging Green River soda while the river gets dyed green. As someone who grew up just outside of the city, and having lived in Chicago proper for over 20 years, I’m ashamed I have never done, or even thought of doing that. Back to the music, I can see why I’ve seen the name around so much. They absolutely nail the classic, high-tempo, driving punk sound with just the right amount of Oi! and bagpipes/mandolin to give it that Irish flavor.
Nostalgia stayed thick in Reggie’s that night as the band played many old favorites. They even brought out their old drummer of 13 years, who hasn’t played with them since 2013. Allegedly he was going on cold, without practicing. The band had asked him to sing with them, only requesting him to play drums AND sing at the last minute. I say allegedly because boy, did he nail it; he didn’t miss a beat and I easily would have believed he had rehearsed heavily before the show. Later in the set, he came back on stage just to dive off of it. He narrowly missed clipping Mary with his foot. An inch to the right and he would have kicked her camera straight into her head and I would have been carrying her out of the venue to nurse a concussion. As the band continued their set, it seemed as if the whole standing area at Reggie’s was dancing and singing along and yelling all sorts of requests from the band’s deep discography between songs. In between songs they shared more anecdotes, some specifically about life on the road. My favorite was a time they played in Germany without securing lodging before the show. They ended up sleeping on the venue floor, huddled up, “like peas in a pod,” using their stage banner as a blanket. Adorable.
Reaching its end, the night felt short, as their 14-song set and single-song encore raced by in no time flat. Even though everyone wanted more, no one was disappointed with what they got. It was a night I won’t soon forget, for on this St. Patrick’s Day weekend, I had no reason to be ashamed to be Irish. At least not until seeing the news and reading the posts the next day, because; St. Patrick’s Day. St. Patrick’s Day never changes. Fighting and puking and general disorder in the streets was as widespread as ever, but not inside our tiny bubble at Reggie’s Rock Club.
Check out all the fun below!
