I sincerely pity anyone who could not make it to the Central Ohio Trans Collective fundraiser show, because this show, more than any local gig I’ve seen, felt like an event: a culmination of all that hardcore has been progressing towards in Central Ohio. It featured a colossal eight band bill, and the least popular acts on it could have easily headlined were it not for the nationally beloved Your Arms Are My Cocoon. The laundromat, by far the most packed I’d ever seen it in almost two years of going to local shows, swam wall to wall with familiar faces. Surprisingly, however, the majority of those there had never been to the legendary Dirty Dungarees. But if you could only ever go to one show at the venue, I’d be hard-pressed to name a better pick.
The night began at an abnormally early 6:30pm with Old Yeller opening up the show as a replacement for the disbanded Ungrounded. The band played an incredibly short set of about four brief songs or so. Not much to report on considering the succinct nature of their performance, but I found the riffs alright, if a bit muddy. Their drummer Rohan showed off some serious chops on the kit as they executed many grind-esque tempo changes within each song. If you want to mosh to your heart’s content without much regard for what you’re listening to, Old Yeller will certainly suffice.
Next up came 614 hardcore group Shackled By Lust. New bassist Oji McLucas provided some seriously meaty tone on the low end while slipping into the locked-in drummer’s classic hardcore grooves like a glove, and you wouldn’t believe the catchy, stank face-inducing riffs being produced by the guitarist. Each of the bandmembers draws from a similar sonic palette, which leads to each song sounding identifiably “Shackled.” But you can always find some ear-catching lick or other hook to differentiate them all and give them some unique appeal. On top of it all come frontwoman Payton’s brutal screams, which seem to burst out of her without any effort at all. If you need any more convincing, you need only look at how scary the pit becomes whenever these guys take the stage.
Third up played fan-favorite Columbus Hardcore outfit Total Loss, who after six years of delivering sweet hardcore music to the eager masses of the Columbus scene announced that this show would be one of the last they would ever play. Frontwoman Bee was moved to tears after explaining how she felt she had left the scene in a better place than when she found it. At long last, the time had come for Total Loss to pass the torch to a new wave of Columbus Hardcore. Emotions rode high in the laundromat, but this only ensured that the coming carnage ran to the umpteenth degree. The instrumentalists acted in such incredible unison that it became hard to even pick out who made what sounds. It all just blended into one leviathan wall of supreme hardcore power, a true all-out assault on the ears. Bee’s vocals ranged from a satisfyingly bouncy clean delivery to some seriously gnarly barks and growls. To take a quote directly from my field notes of the night, the breakdowns feel “like a ton of bricks being repeatedly dropped directly on top of your brain,” and I don’t think there’s much else I could say to describe it. The only thing more punishing was the pit, which at this point more closely resembled a fight in an old cartoon with a cloud of dust and various limbs poking out.
Before fusion metal band Fleshpile could play their set, they invited self-described “Cleveland Punk Drag Entity” Spit Attme to perform an interpretative dance. Spit rocked the stage in a spiky red latex bodysuit, with spiky red latex flail to match. After their performance came to a close with several beer bottles shattering on the floor, Fleshpile’s lead singer Joelle chose to provide a tutorial on how to clean up broken glass. “Don’t pick it up with your f*cking hand!” Joelle shouted. “That’s like the number one rule of glass!” But after all had been sorted, Fleshpile’s set finally began. Fleshpile tunes their instruments deep and bassy, making for an absolutely brutal sound. Their riffs sound as if the band pulled them directly out of the deepest pits of hell. In fact, I almost think the band has some sort of contract with the Devil, because I can find no earthly explanation for Fleshpile produces such ridiculously vicious metal. But at the end of the day, good metal comes down to the vocals – and where many equally talented bands falter with a mediocre vocalist, Fleshpile provides possibly the best metal vocals in Columbus, ranging from monstrous gutturals to harrowing screams. If you like extreme metal you’re doing yourself a disservice by not seeing Fleshpile the next time you see them on a bill.
I knew the second half of the show had arrived when “Ohio Sweethearts” For Your Health went on. Possibly the most varied band of the night, For Your Health wears its diverse influences, from post-hardcore to skramz, on its sleeve. Some of their songs feature chaotic, panicky riffs with screechy lead guitars and skramz-inspired vocals, while others possess strong, melodic vocals and riffs. The vocalist had impressive range and great stage presence, but the guitar department’s versatility really stood out to me. They tackled everything from shrill, panic-chord filled breakdowns, to dreamy, shoegaze-y outros. Certainly an entertaining band.
The sixth set of the night came from Columbus hardcore group Aubrey, and to me, they play everything that classic hardcore punk should be. The kick drum’s on the one and three, snare on two and four, the bassist and guitarist hammer out the same riff as fast and loud as possible, and an inexplicably angry dude yells incoherently into a microphone – yeah, that’s what I’m here for. They may not be the greatest punk band to thrash around on stage, but they promise a simple and effective punk rock sound, and you can tell they deliver by how hard the movers and moshers were going at it six bands deep into the bill.
Perplexingly enough, the penultimate performance of the evening did not come from a hardcore band, nor a screamo band, or any kind of punk band at all, but Insignificant Other, a femme-fronted alternative rock band. Their fun and bouncy riffs have a thick, distorted tone, which elicits a, dare I say, Weezer-esque vibe? If you like music that wouldn’t feel out of
place in an early 00s coming-of-age flick, consider checking them out.
Once their set had concluded, the time had come for the main event: Chicago’s very own Your Arms Are My Cocoon, who played an inspiring fusion of gorgeous, twinkly midwest emo riffs accompanied by shrill screamed vocals to an ever undulating sea of sweaty music lovers. The inclusion of a saxophonist not only brings a unique novelty to the band, but it also provides such a rich and smooth timbre to the band’s sound and really fills up the empty space in the mix. The highlight of the entire set to me came when Cocoon executed this melodic pseudo-breakdown with a searing sax solo over the top of it. Sensational. There were many trials and tribulations during the set, including amplifier difficulties, broken guitar strings, and a pair of showgoers clinging to the ceiling and destroying several of the panels and railings, but with the sheer quality of the performance and palpable fervor of the crowd, it was hard to feel like this show was anything other than a triumph.
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