Live music review: Hardcore godfathers Agnostic Front at 29th Street Ballroom
The evolution of culture is a weird thing to be a part of. As a 43-year-old, I can remember when punk was still an underground institution, when you made a friend over what obscure band shirts you wore or connected with someone at a diner late at night because we were too young to get into bars but had to talk to the kid with the homemade Operation Ivy patch on his jacket. This isn’t a shaking-fist, “it’s all changed” rant. It’s a look back at a community, a genre that changed my life. What I fell into at 13 is still going. Kids are still discovering punk and hardcore, and this music that once lived in bowling alleys, VFW halls, and anywhere with a slab of concrete is thriving. Seeing legendary acts like Agnostic Front on March 28 in Austin no longer requires the dues it once did through record shops and gatekeeping.
Catching Agnostic Front at the 29th Street Ballroom was an emotional homecoming. It’s not that I haven’t seen the band before, but knowing that Vinnie Stigma and Roger Miret are still going was impactful. At 69 and 60, they’re still doing this thing. Agnostic Front is considered the godfather of hardcore and embraces it. Even with lineup changes, seeing them still grinding it out keeps the flame alive. From punk rockers to skinheads to hardcore kids, it’s heartwarming to see dads bring their kids, hoping they find their way into a genre that likely means everything to the old man.
As I get older, it’s wild to realize I’ve been going to shows for thirty years. I’ve had my wrist stamped, been harassed by security, been drunk, sober, sad, miserable, happy, and elated through all of it. When Agnostic Front ripped through classics like “Gotta Go,” “Blind Justice,” and “Victim in Pain,” it was clear this is still what they live for. Miret’s health scares and Stigma pushing seventy haven’t dulled their edge.
Beer was spilled on the floor. A dad wheeled his kid into the pit with a sign that read “Deport Nazis, Not Dreamers.” People danced in Doc Martens while old friends caught up outside, just like every other show, in every town. Still, the room told a story — most of us were over thirty. Even as we age, get grays, our backs hurt, or we’ve got work in the morning, this thing that’s bigger than us still has meaning. It stands as a testament to the music that got to us when we were young.
The band hasn’t lost its edge. Without much banter, they tore through a set of classics and let the crowd do the work, singing every word and turning up the temperature by at least fifteen degrees. It’s always good to see a band genuinely happy the scene showed up, that the show sold out, that tonight felt like an event. Agnostic Front fed off the energy and gave it right back to a crowd that’s likely been with them for years.
Agnostic Front have been barnstorming the world since 1980. Kids have been handing over crumpled dollars to door guys for forty years to scream along, to lose themselves in a room full of people who feel like they do. As they closed with “Gotta Go,” fists pumped and people howled because no matter what life gives or takes away, that moment belonged to the room. Mohawks or button-downs, it didn’t matter. What defines us can take many forms, but for many, it started with a copy of Victim in Pain or Something’s Gotta Give. Whatever the reason, we’re lucky they still give us nights in hot, sweaty rooms all over the world. Because even though I’m in Austin, there’s a guy in Thailand waiting for Vinnie Stigma to show up with his mohawk, ready to play some hardcore.
All photos by Justin Clark
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