You prefer smooth sailing when you get to a certain age. Be it your career, relationships, or even your place in the world. Some of that has to do with the desire to fit in. For example, while I was too young to understand the impact of Smash from The Offspring, I felt old in the heyday of Fall Out Boy. So, when you find that perfect balance between discovery and dependability, you feel at home. More than ever, I think the same could be said for Riot Fest.
Riot Fest is no stranger to growing pains.
The three-day event has been a staple of the Chicago music scene for nearly 20 years. It’s the biggest independent music festival in the U.S. But this year, the controversy was more about where the festival was to be held. The summer started with the shocking announcement of Riot Fest moving to the south Chicago suburb of Bridgeview. That news sent many patrons scrambling to figure out travel logistics. Things got more complicated when a second announcement declared a move back to Douglass Park, the event’s home since 2015.
As a native of Chicago who lives equidistant between both locations, I was more concerned with being there as opposed to wherever there was. I needed to provide my annual Riot Fest coverage! This year, Bearded Gentlemen Music’s very own Oscar De Leon accompanied me as the photographer. Going with someone who covers as many shows as Oscar, you’d think we’d follow an intricate, scheduled plan. However, we decided early on to split up and consume Riot Fest for what it is: The comradery of music and culture.
Day 1 of Riot Fest kicked things off with the blistering heat of the unforgiving sun.
Australian model-turned-industrial artist Zheani opened Riot on the Radical Stage with a set full of unnerving showmanship. Next, I split time between the punk-pop of Nashville’s Winona Fighter, the classic punk of The Exploited, and Australian metalcore band Polaris (not the one from Pete & Pete). Poison The Well gave me another helping of metalcore before a quick pallet cleanser of ’80s-flavored synth-pop of The Aces. Drug Church delivered the epitome of Riot Fest right before being obliterated by Suicidal Tendencies.
For the second half of Day 1, Cypress Hill had far more energy than I was expecting. Public Enemy impressed me even more, becoming my top act of the day. As the headliner, Fall Out Boy did their thing with pyrotechnics and visual gimmicks despite being somewhat low-energy. Yes, it was cool to see Rise Against’s Tim McIlrath join the band on stage for the seminal “Sugar, We’re Going Down.” However, the last time I cared for Fall Out Boy live was when they played at the Woodfield Mall in 2004. But I digress.
Day 2 of Riot Fest was stacked, but it was a lot more diverse once things got rolling.
The heat returned in full force for the 11:30 a.m. set from the reunited local legends Verboten on the Metro Stage. After enjoying future local legends, Pixel Grip, I enjoyed the brooding synth pop of Michael C. Hall’s Princess Goes followed by The Dead Milkmen at the NOFX World stage. The triumphant return of The Hives brought one of the best sets of the weekend with a show of cartoony confidence and wholesome theatrics. No one quite does it like those dudes. After Health crushed some skulls at the AAA Stage, I witnessed the proverbial corndog pit for another local darling, Sincere Engineer.
I caught a single song from Clutch all the way over at the Radical Stage before checking most of Spoon and the tail end of Basement. While Spoon feels more like a Pitchfork Music Festival band, their grownup rock offered a nice reset for me. I think people are sleeping on how good of a live band they are these days.
I love Pavement, and it was nice to see an energized Beck, but St. Vincent was the real headliner of Day 2.
Somewhere between David Bowie and Prince, St.Vincent commanded every single second of stage time. From her guitar wizardry to her self-aware theater, there is no other living artist like Annie Clark. From start to finish, her hour-long set delivered one of the finest festival shows I’ve ever seen!
Afterward, I had my face melted by L.S. Dunes, took a break with Waxahatchee, and sang myself hoarse to Taking Back Sunday before calling it a day. I felt a little guilty for skipping Beach Bunny and Descendents, but it’s not Riot Fest without at least one schedule conflict.
Day 3 of Riot Fest brought an abundance of rainstorms.
Attendees welcomed the cool down, but that also meant rain delays. Although nothing was canceled, Douglass Park became a sloppy mess of mud, wet grass, and slippery conditions. My day started with the hilarity of Saxsquatch (yes, a Sasquatch who plays saxophone) and the goblin metal antics of Nekrogoblikon (that’s exactly how you imagined). But then came the onslaught of my weekend: Sunami, Gel, Mastodon, GWAR, Lamb Of God, Rob Zombie, and the resurrection of Slayer!
Hearing this much metal in a consecutive order meant I had to be in peak shape. Thankfully, the rain kept me hydrated, but the fear of another injury kept me from going as hard as I normally should’ve (or would’ve). Mastodon killed it by playing Leviathan in its entirety, and there wasn’t any other set as intense as Lamb Of God’s. Surprisingly, it was their first time at Riot Fest. The fun distractions of Gwar and Zombie gave audiences time to re-calibrate for the weekend’s biggest act.
Despite throwing in the towel 5 short years ago, Slayer’s reunion show felt bigger and more meaningful than their farewell in 2019.
The spectacle enthralled me from the get-go: The imagery, hellish pyro, everything! With a setlist covering every era, each member was in top form and the master of their respective domains. One of my favorite bands growing up, I really didn’t miss them until they were gone. That says something since the other bands in the “Big Four” continue to tour as mere shadows of their former selves. Then again, Slayer should have dropped the chains instead of becoming the heavy metal equivalent of Walmart like Metallica. Either way, it was an incredible set full of heavy metal spectacle and I’m grateful to have experienced it.
Being around thousands of people, fellow journalists, photographers, and artists for three days had me thinking about my place in my generation.
Still nursing my knee injury from last fall, I played it safe at Riot Fest this year. By not getting as close to the action as usual, I could float from stage to stage a lot easier and take more in. Interestingly, staying in the back physically also allowed me to see the bigger picture philosophically.
As I said earlier in this article, I’ve always felt like I was too old or too young to fully appreciate movements in pop culture. Coupled with my supposed disdain for nostalgia, I’ve never really fit in. Standing at the back of most sets allowed me to pay more attention to other attendees, complete with their Mohawks, chains, tattoos, and piercings. People in battle vests and trucker hats threw fists shaped like horns to the sky while watching bands sing songs with lyrics of death and destruction. It could all be pretty silly from a certain perspective. Corny even.
But at the end of the day, all of those people (myself included) had the time of their lives. It’s tough out there. People are hurting, and there’s a lot of uncertainty in the world. For a few days, everyone could set aside the hurt, drama, and pain to celebrate on common ground. You could be stomping a dust pit at Suicidal Tendencies, reflecting on your life at Spoon, dancing like a dork to Beck, or falling in love to Waxahatchee. Maybe you’re in a wall of death at Lamb Of God, fighting the power at Public Enemy, or doing whatever it is they do at NOFX. Whatever it is, at Riot Fest, you fit in. We fit in.
All photos by Oscar De Leon.
