I went out on a whim to the sold-out show, teetering on the bridge of “…or should I go” mere hours before. Not even two days back from Brooklyn, and there I was driving a long way down I-40 in my sticky-pollen-covered car to reach the third venue I ever photographed at in 2007, at the “edge of seventeen”. 

Although Cat’s Cradle has moved a few locations since its opening in 1969, it has barely changed in the almost 20 years since the first show I photographed there. The most memorable change is that the sound stage is centered and farther back from where it was in the early 2000s. Obviously, not much needs to change—Napalm Death, Melvins, and Weedeater regularly come back to the venue, each seems to get grittier and better every time. 

This was my third time seeing Melvins, second time seeing Weedeater, and first time seeing Napalm Death. Sadly, I still have not seen Dark Sky Burial—Shane Embury was unwell (get well soon!)—bassist Mats filled in for him and has been covering a few shows.

I feel fortunate that the shows I have attended in my thirties have been the best of my life. After each one, I walk away feeling inspired and thinking, “I am so glad I went.” This was the most energetic yet respectful punk-metal show I have ever attended—the perfect balance between chaos and care. Sure, there were some poorly executed crowd surfs among the many well-executed ones—one of which almost landed on me—but overall, the vibe was playful and full of banter. A bit surprising how everyone kept their cool on such a brutally humid night—more than half the pit was drenched in sweat from all the movement. That cool-headed energy was largely thanks to the polished mayhem delivered by the veteran bands.

It was the kind of show where I wished I did videography, as I wanted to capture every single moment—especially what Mark ‘Barney’ Greenway had to say on stage about Trump, the economy, and overall sociopolitics. “Nazi Punks Fuck Off” cover truly is *the* theme. Barney’s repartee with the crowd deserves scholarly attention, as does the polite calmness to all the shouted song requests, “All I can say is that it’s coming.” Additional notables were that Dave “Dixie” Collins kept the crowd entertained with his trademark witty quips, two drummers (Dale Crover and Coady Willis) played the entire Melvins set, and Barney, Buzz Osborne, and Steven Shane McDonald seemed to run laps across the stage.

A rare night where the majority of the bands (two out of three) have been around for longer than I have been alive. The crowd was filled with people of all ages and tastes—personal favorites of mine were Brainiac and Boris shirts, with a scattering of bands like Gojira, Eyehategod, Exhumed, and of course the bands playing. 

Thank you to all the protective people—so many of whom were not men—you didn’t have to look out for me, but you did, and I salute you. A belated “you’re beautiful” to the one person who told me I’m pretty while I was in the photo pit—I was speechless. Extra thanks to the two photographers I befriended and chatted with; the mutual respect was real, and I love our shared energy. Extra extra thanks to the few security guards who listened and knew their stuff (you know who you are), and to the staff who gave me extra water and took the phone I found in the restroom. What a beautiful night. Sweaty, energetic movement cooled by the rain and a brisk walk back to the car, washing off all the stick—washing off all the stick.

More images to come and will be posted on Instagram.