April 19, 2019. Last time in the USA.
I still had tags from that travel attached to my luggage ’til a while ago. I kept them just for a little sense of nostalgia, or the will to keep a high hope for me to return there soon. Maybe a bit of an unconscious and sinister omen, in hindsight.
I used to come quite often in the past actually, but never once as a tourist and, to be honest, I liked things to be like that. Having to wake up for work in the morning, reading newspapers with a cup of coffee and a bagel, and ending my day at a sports bar with some colleagues and a Coors Light made me feel more like a very local guy and way closer to the American dream that I depicted since I was a little boy. Who knows where it came from … Sometimes I still wonder. I really cannot explain this passion that I have; neither I can tell if it makes sense at all, and I’m not expecting anyone to understand it, but the only thing that I know is that I have something to do with the U.S. in some way. I feel good when I’m there.
The world then collapsed; so did my job and a lot of other things …
I never crossed the Atlantic again, and the tags on my luggage just disappeared at one point.
During the years, I gathered stuff from my travels that I still keep in my house. From the most common and usual, like my first Orioles tickets, a souvenir cup from M&T Bank Stadium, or a special copy of USA Today for Obama’s re-election, to the more stupid and curious things, like coasters stolen from Outback’s and a menu from Pappas in Cockeysville (Oprah’s favorite Crab Cakes!), everything helped me felling closer to a place that I love, but always so damn far.
More than once, I thought about organizing a new travel, but I’ve never done that in the end because my sick self cannot accept to travel the U.S. just for its own sake. I needed a motivation, something important and meaningful to associate it with.
And then at one point, I realized that I actually had something that was still pending.
Exactly 20 years ago, I was right in the middle of one of my life’s worst times, and good old punk rock certainly played a role in getting me out of trouble.
I always liked to spend some money at the newsstand. It’s one of my weird guilty pleasures, like going to Blockbuster back in the days just because I fucking liked it. That warm day of June, right out of Bergamo’s old hospital, I bought a copy of a popular Italian rock music magazine with a Vans Warped Tour 2003 DVD in it.
BOOM!
I watched those videos, like, a million times. I stored into my mind all of the interviews; I got obsessed with all of the details and easter eggs from people behind the scenes. All the musicians and the bonds between bands, the jokes, the energy of the shows (not that I really ever loved them that much, but my favorite one was certainly Rufio’s). I got to the point where the atmosphere and spirit of it became like they were nearly real to my senses.
That summer, I attended Deconstruction Tour, a really a huge festival in Europe at the time. It was definitely a blast, but that other thing was just different and better to me.
I needed to get there, but how?
I only had a few friends that were as excited as I was for that kind of thing, and that surely is not a journey you take on your own. Plus, I had no money. I was going through that moment of life when you felt guilty for an entire week after you buy like a Santa Cruz hoodie … Imagine the tickets for a festival overseas.
With no crew and no money, the basic things were missing, so it was never the time for me. I never had the chance to go to Warped Tour, but that kind of dream remained.
Twenty years form then, a text from a friend just woke it all up again: “We’re creating a chat with people that want to go to Fest in Gainesville this year; I believe you might be interested…”
There were just the right people in that group, and even if I’m really no Scrooge Mc-Fucking-Duck, I could afford the travel expenses. I even thought I deserved some vacation in the end.
I finally saw my occasion to come full circle and on Tuesday, October 22, I’m heading to Florida.
Milan-Madrid-Miami and, after a relaxing day in the Vice City, we’re ready to drive all the way to Gainesville.
Just like you can only really understand Batman if you consider Gotham, you only can understand Fest if you consider Gainesville. It wasn’t the city that merely accepted an event that was born there; it was the event that developed from the city itself. I built this thought up during my Fest days, and I think I had a confirmation of it directly from Mr. Chuck Ragan when, during the second Hot Water Music gig at Bo Diddley Plaza, talked about Gainesville thanking the city for always being “Supporting, open-minded, and understanding.” That’s really a thing that you can tell by simply walking around in the city: The lovely hospitality and even curiosity that characterizes the local people is indeed a real thing. Add a natural passion for punk rock, and you have Fest, piece of cake.
Gainesville is a place where authorities give a punk band the keys to the city. Not sure if that’s commonly seen in America; surely it’s not in Italy (or Europe).
Actually, it’s exactly at that point that our journey begun: We met Chris Cresswell right outside of Bo Diddley’s just after HWM was given the keys to the city. He still had the official papers in his hands!
Entering the venue, Cloud Nothings were about to start it all. Honestly speaking, they’re not one of my favorites, but did an awesome job. I’m still too distracted from my surroundings, by the way: Bo Diddley Plaza is a beautiful, magical, nearly unreal place. I’m in the line for some Fest merch and then for food, coming back just in time for Flatliners and at that point I had my first—sort of—epiphany (spoiler: I’ll have, like, one each day): I’m with friends and my girlfriend in a beautiful place; Flatliners are playing; I’m drinking my Pabst, and I’m eating a simple burger that seems to me like the best food in the universe in that moment. I feel good, and I’m just happy.
The band play an outstanding one, and I’m not saying that just because my head is in the stars, and even if they were playing awful, they would have seemed like Queen at Wembley to me. They will double and confirm even the night after at Vivid’s that they’re one of the best bands of the entire lineup.
Top level end of the night with Hot Water Music and … What can I say? I love Chuck Ragan too much. The band is on fire, and they, too, will double the feeling on their second show at Bo Diddley’s, even playing some from the new record, Vows, including my favorite, “Fences.” Chris Wollard made an appearance on stage during both the shows, meeting the crowd’s huge appreciation. It’s all about hugs and nice words for the band (“They had the keys to your hearts; now they have the keys to Gainesville!”).
Curtains down.
Before starting with my actual Fest tale, I’d like to step back for a moment and spend a couple of words about how the event works, for people out there who may need it to be clarified. The Fest is basically a highly customizable festival in which the various gigs are distributed in a number of venues around an area of the Gainesville city center. Every band of the lineup is assigned to different venues and can also play more than one show in different venues during the three days of duration. Those who wish to attend it need to build up their own personal schedule using helpful tools like the official app, or can even choose to let fate decide and enter any venue randomly, accepting to be exposed to surprises. I assure that is one fun thing to do, especially because at no other festivals in the world would it be possible.
My personal Fest starts at Heartwood, a really nice outdoor venue that’s similar to the one we have for the festival we’re organizing here in Italy, with a band called Wolf Face. The four piece melodic punk combo used to perform dressed up like Michael J. Fox on Teen Wolf, with hair and everything. Being a pretty hardcore nerd, that thing could be just good enough to drive me crazy, but it’s actually their merch that heart-shaped my eyes: The guys have made their own video game, and it’s a fully operating Nintendo NES cartridge. Take my 50 dirty bucks, you best surprise band of the day.
Staying at Heartwood for Codefendants: They’re not a band that I’m really much into, but they play a wonderful show. Lots of guests and even a cello player; I recognize a certain artistic value, but their music is really not my cup of tea. It’s just my taste, but I’m happy to have seen them anyway.
The next one for me is Reconciler at Wooly’s, a small indoor live club that will become one of my crew’s favorite in the days. I tried to get their album for review a while ago—no success—and a friend that’s with me at Fest recommended them to me more than once. A very good show; I liked them very much. Despite the not-so-young age of the crowd, they put together a wild one. I’ll be checking them out further for sure.
At this point we move to Vivid Music Hall, a bigger and cooler (literally, in every way) indoor live club, for one of the main acts of the entire fest: The Copyrights. The band meet all of my expectations; the crowd goes wild, and I start seeing the first Pabst cans exploding up in the air in the middle of the pit. Vivid Music Hall is indeed a nice venue, but I cannot say the same about the audio. I’m not sure if it’s because of the venue’s acoustic or a more technical reason. The situation will be pretty much the same for all of the gigs I’ll see there (exception made for Flatliners—even if they were REALLY too loud—and Chuck Ragan).
Still, this doesn’t affect the Copyrights’ performance; they simply rocked. Watching the show from above—Vivid has a sort of balcony upstairs—I have a casual meet with a nice guy who turns out to be a colleague from Dying Scene, and this somehow triggers my epiphany again: I’m watching The Copyrights playing a great show in a cool venue, sipping fresh Liquid Death, and meeting friendly and nice people at the same time. Holy shit, I feel damn good.
After The Copyrights, I head to Heartwood once again for Iron Roses. I’m a long time Boysetsfire fanboy, and I’m curious about what’s Nathan Gray doing with this new project. I liked the records very much, but think they’re even better live. Nathan’s still so charismatic, and that’s clear even during the beautiful speech about the power of music. Fun fact, Nathan’s parents are attending the show, and they’re sitting right behind me!
Next up is nother band at Heartwood, and it’s Further Seems Forever’s turn. I believe they represented one massive nostalgic moment for all. It’s been a while since we heard from them as big players of the early ’00’s emo wave. The first song they play is “Pride War,” one of my favorites from them, and it’s time for tears already. Even with some small technical issues on their lead vocal mic, they play a good one.
I end my day with Hot Water Music at Bo Diddley’s, already mentioned above. I’m a fanboy, so I would be more than happy to have the chance to see them for a third time these days, if it was even possible!
Day number two starts fire with A Wilhelm Scream at Wooly’s. Actually, I lose one or two of the gigs I planned in order to get a little rest (we woke up at 6:00 a.m. for a manatee snorkel), but nothing that I couldn’t retrieve the next day. I’ve seen AWS quite a number of times, and this is totally their type of gig: not that big venue and no barriers. The setlist is a good half and half between oldies and more recent material (the played “The Horse”; that is one of my all time favorites, and they don’t play it very often). It’s my first Fest full-capacity show (the line outside the venue is crazy), but I’m able to come in early enough to see almost the whole show.
Same situation for The Dopamines at the Backyard, another super-awaited band. Backyard is probably one of the most singular venues I’ve seen: It’s basically the rear outside area of another venue called Plaomino, but so crowded as to give the impression of an indoor space. The band raise hell out of the venue. I missed the band’s first show at Vivid’s, where an appearance of Tony Foresta on vocals ended up with a thrash can thrown right in the middle of the pit from the stage, but it looks like despite the mentioned audio issues, they totally ripped it. I believe they did even better here; I can’t seriously imagine a better show.
Next on the schedule for me is Tightwire at Wooly’s. The band are missing one of the members, and just a couple of days before the beginning of the festival, they made a call via their social media for people knowing how to play any of their songs on guitar. Sending a simple video as a proof for skills, it was possible to join them on stage! NOOO WAYY! Bummer not to have had a bit more time to prepare myself … By the way, their show just confirms my expectations: I love their sound and attitude. They remind me of Allister in a certain way. Huge YES for me.
The next show at Wooly’s is a band that I discovered just weeks before Fest: Bollweevils from Chicago. They’ve been around for the last 35 years, and still they can blow a venue away. They play fast-paced punk, close to melodic hardcore actually, no mid tempos at all. The lead singer greatly manages the time on stage and interacts with people with funny jokes, often ending up singing songs directly from inside the pit. Totally worth it and surprise band of the day.
The sun starts to come down, and after a couple of slices from Five Stars Pizza, I reach Heartwood once again for Mustard Plug. This year’s lineup is full of ska bands (I also saw Kill Lincoln yesterday but … I’ll talk about them on day number three), and Mustard Plug are like veterans. It really looks like they solved the technical problems that occurred on day one, and the performance is just sweet, with people partying under the stage.
The last one of the day is Bouncing Souls at Bo Diddley’s performing Gold Record and Hopeless Romantic in their entirely. It’s my first time with them, and I can say they really play the way they do on their albums. The crowd is just mesmerized—Those are, like, the records of a lifetime for a lot of the people—and there’s even a bunch of 12- or 13-year-old boys crowd surfing. I hit a high five with one of them during his run back beyond the barriers, and I can hear him yelling, “OH MY GOOOOD!” right before re-joining the crowd: it’s such a beautiful moment!
Time for day number three already; it is just incredible how much we’ve lived these days, while I keep feeling like there’s a lot that I missed at the same time. I believe that’s part of the Fest-effect itself.
My day starts early with Soul Glo at Bo Diddley’s. It’s very hot today, and the sun is hitting hard on the pit and on the stage as well, so I cannot believe how the band can still be this devastating in these conditions. Massive show, and I wonder how things would have gone in a smaller venue … maybe next time!
Last Backyard ride for me, and there’s Kill Lincoln on stage. The ska-core band are like a crazy rocket. They even have some serious skills on guitars (metal-like solos in a ska song? WTF??) and they entertain like I’ve seen no other. Jumps, crowdsurfing, wild partying … They really give the vibes of the old Warped Tour, like I used to see on my DVD! Band of the day with no further discussion.
I stay at Backyard for Big D And The Kids Table, but I choose to watch the show from a more quiet spot … I deserve a Liquid Death. I believe they have an anniversary, too, and the crowd seems to be thrilled.
It’s now time for Touché Amoré, and there’s a strange ambience at Bo Diddley’s: The sunlight looks really too low on the horizon for being, like, 3:00 p.m., and that’s a great match with this band’s mood. Impressive show, I look forward to see them again.
Next up was a romantic moment at the Vivid, where me and my girlfriend went for Chuck Ragan and the Camaraderie. We find a spot on the balcony where air conditioning seems a little less severe, and there’s this moment during “The Boat” where I hug her from behind and can feel her breathing. A special moment and my third epiphany. I feel good, again.
The time has come for our last destination: Loosey’s. It’s a small bar where the bands are playing indoors while there’s a pretty large outdoor space for eating. It’s time for the Italian bands to play Fest! The first ones are Cocks from Genova, whom I believe are the right band in the right place at the right time. They’re probably the most prepared for this event, and they play a near-perfect set. Loyal Cheaters, rockers from Rimini, are the band that played the most U.S. shows, so they really are at ease in this situation. They put together a wild one between sick moves, solos and broken strings.
Regrowth from Cagliari are the band that had the hardest job in my opinion. Their mix of hardcore and metalcore is pretty uncommon for Fest, and they’re probably the less known even by us Italian supporters. For this reason, and for being able to fire up the locals despite everything, I can say they are my favorite between the four Italian acts. The last one for the night, and for this year’s Fest for us, are Scheletri from Turin. They made it to Gainesville with a small lineup rearrange, with singer Bepi leaving guitar to be the lead vocalist full time, and they put together an unexpectedly physical show. Good job here.
Jen Pop shows up in the crowd, and I am able to catch her for a brief talk during which I’m more than happy to discover that she remembers about my Italian fanzine and the gig we helped to organize for her at Granozero’s, the Italian punk-restaurant. Such a good way to end this incredible journey.
October 29, 2024. Last time in the USA.
While we start to disappear in the clouds up above the Miami sky, my head is full of things. I know that I’ll have to find a way to include them all into a live report, and I know already that whatever I’ll do, it will always look too small for everything to fit in. But I’m not too worried about that. I’m not worried at all, actually.
For the first time in a long time, I can say I just feel serene.
Gainesville gave me a lot, and I already know that its influence on me and its spirit will make the difference in my days from now on.
This time I removed the tags from my bag immediately.
I’ll be right back.
I know that this time.
Reeko
Words by Federico Zoppetti. Photos by Joshua Maranhas.
