Photo of Jeff Rosenstock by Bryan J. Sutter
It’s been a crazy time for Jeff Rosenstock. The DIY punk wizard released his fifth solo record HELLMODE last September to critical acclaim and insane word-of-mouth buzz. The tour supporting the record was going incredibly well when Rosenstock and bassist John DeDomenici tested positive for COVID-19 on September 17th, the day they were set to play St. Louis, and had to cancel quite a few dates. Jeff and his cohorts were able to get back on the road in late November, not long before HELLMODE starting placing very high on many year-end “best of” lists. A US tour of make-up dates was announced for early 2024, along with a few new stops, which included Jeff Rosenstock’s first show in Louisville, at Headliners Music Hall.
Unfortunately, Jeff Rosenstock was set to perform in my native St. Louis the same night as Armand Hammer, a NYC hip hop duo that also reached a new level of critical acclaim in 2023. It was a tough choice, as HELLMODE was my favorite record of last year, but it was Armand Hammer’s first St. Louis show. Not wanting to pick one over the other that Sunday evening, I decided to hop east to Louisville the day before and catch Rosenstock there. It was perhaps a wise choice, as the evening at Headliners ended up being a blast.
Philly indie rockers Gladie were fantastic. Full stop. If their release Don’t Know What You’re In Until You’re Out was not one of your favorite records of 2022, you owe it to yourself to let it be one of your favorites of 2024. They’re very much so in the vein of ’90s college rock without being stiff or corny, with some heartfelt, heavy lyrics mixed with the sort of thick riffs that will get stuck in your head. Looking around, I could tell I was not the only person blown away by their performance, and I have to imagine Gladie has been racking up new fans on this tour. After their set, a teenage girl standing next to me asked guitarist/vocalist Augusta Koch for her guitar pick. Augusta seemed a little surprised by this, but happily obliged. The girl held the pick with both hands and stared at it like it was a nugget of gold and it reminded me of when I first started going to shows as a teenager. I still have the green Dunlop pick Marty Friedman gave me when I was 13, and I’m sure I stared at it the same way when he handed it to me. It was a very cool moment to end what was perhaps the best opening set of any show I’ve photographed in years.
One-woman band Sidney Gish felt like the wildcard of this bill. Using a Boss looper/sampler pedal to build out her songs, it was the sort of thing I’ve seen entire crowds use as a smoke break at smaller shows, but I was pleasantly surprised to find that most of the folks at the front of the room at Headliners ended up being not just familiar with her, but were very stoked to watch her perform. When Gish would announce her next song, like “Filming School” or “I Eat Salads Now,” they would give a big pop. It was a lovely thing and I really enjoyed her set, which reminded me of The Moldy Peaches without all the self-loathing and misanthropy.
In an era of acts coming out to semi-ironic song choices, Rosenstock choosing to come out to System of a Down’s “Chop Suey” did not come off as sarcastic or tongue-in-cheek. HELLMODE was primarily recorded in the same studio as SOAD’s hit 2001 album Toxicity and Jeff himself has commented on the record’s production influencing his latest release. It made sense, though I did have a sobering confrontation with my own mortality as Rosenstock and his bandmates ripped through the last chorus of the song that “Chop Suey ” is over 20 years old. They then went into “WILL U STILL U”’ and “HEAD,” the first two tracks off of HELLMODE. Before playing “Scram!,” Jeff gave the crowd a little pep talk about being nice and not being creeps, and encouraged us to say hello to those around us. Despite the crowd giving off a rowdy but not particularly aggressive vibe, I was still half expecting at some point to have to brace myself against the stage, but it never came. There was a pretty consistent circle of movement in the center of the dance floor. However, despite it being a well-attended show (if not sold out, it was close) there was enough space to prevent people from pushing into each other if a few dudes decided they wanted to act like they just walked into a spiderweb. People were going off, but no one was walking away with a bruise they weren’t expecting to receive.
The first time I photographed Jeff Rosenstock was during the farewell tour for his previous project Bomb the Music Industry! back in 2012. It was a cool show, though at that time I was more familiar with his DIY reputation than his music. I took a photo of him and the band in the venue’s green room, and a photo of them with the show’s promoter, who is the biggest fan of Rosenstock and his music that I know of. I caught part of his set at the Duck Room in 2017, and it was the hardest I’ve ever seen a crowd go in that little room. Watching him and his bandmates, now in 2024, sweat out on the stage at Headliners with those up front shouting along every lyric, I realized that Rosenstock might be one of the last real working artists of his kind that we will ever see. With his cut off jean shorts, sleeveless shirt bearing the roundel of the RAF, and mussed-up hair, Rosenstock looks every bit like the ceramics professor at the local community college that pulls up every day in his beater Civic, which has one lone bumper sticker that says, “ART: CREATE ALL KINDS OF CRAZY SHIT.” He most certainly embodies the vibe of someone that Louisville’s own Hunter S. Thompson may have described as a strange, rare beast in a herd of scumfucks and witless hooligans.
Jeff asking the crowd if they knew about raw water, not as an advocate but to point out its absurdity, and him losing his shit when someone brought out a disco ball during “9/10” only supports my thesis. A man who, at times, seems a bit larger than life in that bohemian way, but still has his feet on the ground.
In older interviews, Rosenstock spoke of success being the ability to keep going, to keep creating. An idea that has become harder and harder to realistically manifest as the whims of late-capitalism and corporate greed have made it impossible for pretty much anyone, artists in particular, to scrape up anything resembling a respectable living these days. Is he lucky? Sure, but luck is having the right skills at the right moment. Just seems like a lot less folks are getting lucky. Jeff Rosenstock, his band DEATH ROSENSTOCK, and his many creative collaborators should be celebrated. If there was anything I could feel sour about, it was that it felt like we were looking at the last northern white rhino. | Bryan J. Sutter
