Against Me! Concert Review

By Jordan Mertens
Contributing Writer

In case you missed it, on the evening of June 20, critically acclaimed American punk quartet Against Me! hosted an all-ages show in the Venue at the Hub in promotion of their latest full length venture, White Crosses.

Quietly enjoying my supper, a sake bomb and beer, in the above “Forbidden” bar, a friend and I peer over the balcony and watch enthusiastically as the Venue below us begins to transform from an empty, dimply lit dance floor into a collection of non-traditional haircuts and body jewelry. “My kind of people,” I recall hearing somebody close to me say. It may have been me.

As equipment is being set up for the first opening act of the night, Lemuria, an indie/punk rock project based out of Buffalo, NY, the merchandise tables are already busy supplying band tees in every size to those most in need of such things: the fans, the crowd, people. Many of whom have been waiting, ticket in hand, for this day since Against Me! had to cancel their February 8 performance due to Fargo’s “inclement weather.” While this was, indeed, a dark day for
fans, the band promised that they would return when mother nature was in a better mood: June 20 of the same year.

The day had finally come. And the anxiety that had built due to the wait was none too thin in the atmosphere of the Venue. Outside, as small pools of attendees filter out their cigarettes in preparation, there was to be no doubt in the minds of any non-concert goer who may
pass by the big doors that these colorful Americans had only one thing in mind, and that they, by all reasonable measurements, had no idea what that thing was. But it was very exciting, whatever it was.

The first crack of the first chord of the first song by the opening band influenced a significant roar toward the seemingly unexpectant Sheena Ozzella, Alex Kerns and Max Gregor of Lemuria. But deep lyrical rhythm watering stylistic bass lines earned them quick respect from a still growing party of on-lookers. After a moderately well-received set, the band performed one last vocal piece which acted not at all unlike gasoline to an already burning fire; they reminded the crowd of
who was to come. Evidently a motivational speech, as it drew many of us in attendance deeper into the heart of the action.

Taking the stage second was a trio known as Screaming Females. A name, somewhat misleading, as only the singer/guitar player, Marissa Paternoster is, in fact, female. She is also a sight to behold. At around 8:30 pm, central time, a baby-faced man with a bass guitar, King Mike, dawns the stage drawing first attention. Behind him, a thin man in glasses, Jarrett Dougherty, makes his way behind the drum set.

Then, a petite, 5 foot tall, swishy banged porcelain doll, dressed as a revolutionary librarian fantasy enters stage left, wielding her butter scotch guitar as though she hadn’t made her mind up yet on whether to play it or run off to Vegas with it and elope. They start heavy, leaving no room for further questioning of their name. Though self-defined as an indie band, most would agree that Marissa’s Corin Tucker-like crones and unexpected yet brilliantly executed solos describe them as nothing less than post hardcore punk rock. And in this case, that is a very good thing. Seemingly not much for public speaking, Marissa spits her self promotions out like a half
drunk auctioneer in a hurry to be someplace rainy. If you didn’t listen carefully, you might never have known that they emerged with glory, the same as Gaslight Anthem before them, out of that nether land known as New Jersey. That is unless you were standing next to the same gentleman I was, who made it a point to shout out “New Jersey sucks!” after her first introduction of the band. With any luck, his needless vulgarity planted only the motivation within the “Females” to
play even harder. Personally, I can’t wait to see them again.

After an intermission, enough time for a drink, a smoke, or whatever your poison, the lights dimmed, treating the restless crowd below them like a thunderstorm on the Sahara. The moment everyone had been waiting for was nigh.

The four current members of the once one man acoustic “band,” Against Me!, Tom Gabel, James Bowman, Andrew Seward and Jay Weinberg, take their positions on stage and waste not one second kicking things off, allowing the instruments they’ve mastered to say hello on their
behalf.

The chaotic celebration was well underway as the band transitioned into its forth crowd pleaser. Nothing new yet, and not a break has been taken between songs. In fact, throughout the entire concert, I only recall front man, Tom Gabel, actually speaking (as apposed to singing) one time, and that was to apologize for taking so long to come back here. An apology the crowd immediately accepted and forgave.

This was my first time seeing Against Me! live, so I can’t say from personal experience whether or not this is typical of Tom Gabel, but one thing anyone who watched this performance could tell you is he did not stop smiling the entire show. Seriously, every single song, he had a huge grin on his face the whole time. It wasn’t something I was used to seeing, but it was intoxicating (even more so than the sake bombs).

And maybe there was a reason he was so happy. He seemed to know who he was playing to, as periodically he was jump away from his microphone providing us, the audience, the opportunity to perform his duties as singer for him. An opportunity, it seemed, no one wasted. But then, this never was meant to be a spectator sport. Not with them. That much was clear. Even on my sprained ankle, I couldn’t keep from participating in a crowd surf.

Alas, even the best of things do eventually come to an end. In some fortunate cases, such as this, a triumphant one, as Against Me! saved their super hit, “Thrash Unreal,” for their closer. Or so, to the untrained eye, it would seem. The band bowed, waved and walked off as the stage lights faded to black. I don’t believe one of them thought for a second that they were done. But, as any worthy crowd must, if we wanted more, we were going to have to earn it. After chanting “Against Me!” at what was left of the top of our lungs for an indeterminable amount of time, the group once again returned to the stage and in the same no-beat-missed fashion that they’d worn effortlessly throughout the entirety of their set, the four-some unleashed an onslaught of three more mosh pit inducing notables.

I did not attend this show as a journalist, a reporter or anything of the sort. I attend purely as a fan, I attended with friends, I attended for the only reason I need; to forget that the world exists
and connect to something bigger than everyone involved in the experience. And that’s what happened. In case you missed it, it was a heck of a show.

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