Combat had the difficult job of playing to a room that was still filling in, but they turned that early-set indifference into momentum almost immediately. Their sound landed somewhere between scrappy indie punk and Midwest emo, drawing easy comparisons to bands like The Front Bottoms but with a rougher, more urgent edge. Early in the night, that looseness worked in their favor. The set felt unpolished in a way that made it more engaging, like anything could fall apart, but never quite did. There’s a certain charm to a band that feels like they’re still building something in real time, and Combat leaned into that. Their songs blurred together at points, but in a way that made the set feel continuous rather than repetitive, more like a sustained burst of energy than a series of individual moments. By the end, they’d done exactly what an opener should: wake the room up.
Teen Mortgage delivered exactly what a great opener should: short, loud, and impossible to ignore. From the moment they stepped onstage, the D.C. duo wasted no time. Their set hit like a jolt, fuzzy, blown-out guitar tones and pounding drums filling the room far bigger than a two-piece should be able to. Their sound, a mix of garage punk grit, hooky chaos sparked pits within seconds. What made their performance stand out was its raw physicality. Every song felt pushed to its limit, with frontman James Guile shouting through distortion while drummer Ed Barakauskas drove everything forward with relentless force. There’s a heaviness to their live sound, thick, aggressive, and surprisingly full, that gives even their shortest songs real weight.
Opening sets are often treated like a formality, something to endure before the “real” show begins. Militarie Gun rejected that role almost immediately. From the moment they walked out, there was a sense of intent, not just to warm up the crowd, but to reframe the night. Where Joyce Manor thrives on speed and brevity, Militarie Gun leaned into something different, more deliberate, without sacrificing urgency.
Frontman Ian Shelton carried himself with a loose, restless energy. His vocal delivery swung between sharp-edged shouting and something more melodic, almost vulnerable, giving the set a push-and-pull dynamic that kept it from settling into a single gear. It was a smart contrast to what would come later, less of a sprint, more of a controlled burn. The band’s sound filled the room differently, too. Guitars were thicker, basslines more pronounced, drums landing with a kind of physical weight you could feel in your chest. In a venue as large as the Salt Shed, that density worked in their favor, giving their songs a sense of scale that matched the space without feeling bloated. If anything, it made the room feel smaller, tighter, like the walls had inched inward just a bit.
Part of what made the set so effective was its pacing. Militarie Gun resisted the temptation to front-load their biggest songs, instead building momentum gradually. The early tracks established texture and tone, while the latter half leaned into hooks and repetition, giving the audience something to latch onto. By the time they hit their closing stretch, the room was fully with them.
Visually, they kept things stripped down, no theatrics, no distractions. But unlike some minimalist sets that feel bare, this one felt focused. Every movement, every shift in dynamics, seemed calibrated to draw attention back to the music itself. It created a kind of tunnel vision where, for 30-40 minutes, nothing outside the stage really mattered. In another context, Militarie Gun might have felt like the main event. Here, they played a different role, but no less important: They turned anticipation into engagement, skepticism into investment.
There were quite a bit of uncertainty going into Joyce Manor’s Chicago show as vocal strain hit Barry Johnson resulting in a few rescheduled dates leading into the Chicago stop. Thankfully, the day off, the band posted a simple message: the show was on. By the time they walked out at The Salt Shed, the tension had transformed into something electric, less worry, more anticipation, like the entire room had collectively decided to will the night into existence.
When the band launched into the first track, there was no easing in. No buildup, just a quick walkout on stage to the Goosebumps theme song, followed by immediate impact. Central to Joyce Manor’s identity has been their refusal to linger. Songs begin mid-thought ending before you’ve had time to fully process them. That sense of urgency and fast-paced timing turned the set into something similar to a spring, one song bleeding quickly into the next, barely time for a pause, let alone reflection in the moment, forcing the audience to live fully in the moment as it unfolds.
What made the performance feel bigger was how the crowd functioned as a second instrument. Every lyric was thrown back at the stage with startling precision. It wasn’t just volume, it was volume and timing. Entire sections of songs were effectively handed over to the audience, especially during older tracks, where the vocals nearly disappeared under the weight of hundreds of voices. Instead of fighting it, they leaned into it, stepping back from the mic, pointing outward, and letting the room take control. That dynamic, relinquishing control with the crowd seizing it, became the defining rhythm of the night.
The setlist itself was carefully chaotic, jumping across the band’s discography without much warning. Early material, with its raw, blown-out edges, hit with a kind of nostalgic violence. These songs are short and deceptively simple, but live, they land like emotional flash-bangs. There’s barely time to recover before the next one detonates. In contrast, newer tracks from I Used to Go to This Bar added a subtle sense of evolution without breaking the formula. They’re still fast, still hook-driven, but there’s a sharper sense of structure, choruses that feel engineered for collective shouting, riffs that stick just a second longer. Live, they didn’t feel like departures; they felt like refinements. If anything, they highlighted how consistent Joyce Manor have lasted over the years, not by resisting change, but by distilling their sound down to its most essential parts.
Joyce Manor
Militarie Gun
Teen Mortgage
Combat
