"Are You Going to the Show?"

at the show in providence, rhode island

For my whole life there have always been shows — live performances by local hardcore punk bands at the only “venues” we had. The VFW hall, the basement of the Episcopal church, our town hall, our parents’ basements. I say “our” but I’m not in the band. I’m a band sister.

My brother’s been in bands for 20 years. We’re only two years apart and we have always been friends. Being adopted was never talked about, but subconsciously I think we knew we only had each other (we were the only Asians, or people of any color, in town essentially). His journey has been marked by tumultuous times brought on by mental instability, a bipolar diagnosis, and an overprescription of meds which he no longer uses or needs. Being in bands, creating music from painful places, is the better medicine in his case.

When he told me his band Iron Gag got added to open for There Were Wires’ second reunion show, in Providence, he hinted I should come, noting, “For me, this is, like, as big as playing with Converge!” I knew I had to be there. My brother drove a packed car of me and three friends (who are his bandmates from his other band, Born Cursed). They were there to support and take it all in with him.

AS220 in Providence is a nonprofit art space - bar, art gallery, show space. All the energy was right as soon we walked in. My brother, or one of our friends, whispered to me, “That’s Jamie,” the singer of There Were Wires. He was standing along the wall, arms folded, looking slightly awkward, as every musician does.

I stood in the middle of the room as the bands moved their gear around and got ready. I love watching bands set up their merch tables. The care that everyone puts into displaying their shirts, pins, tapes, or 7-inch’s, usually next to a Sharpie’d list of prices. Everyone shakes hands, looks each other in the eye, asks if they know so-and-so, name drops a band or two.

Even though the bands hail from various places, there’s an innate community feeling in (post-) hardcore, metal and punk scenes that doesn’t exist elsewhere. There’s real strength in the mutual feeling that comes from being outsiders, pissed at society, or the hand they’ve been dealt, and not having to explain themselves as they would to, say, a girlfriend’s mom. It’s a shortcut to acceptance.

After the first band plays, it’s a family affair. People loosen up, smile and chit-chat with more ease. The feedback from Iron Gag’s set was “That was sick!”, “You guys are SO heavy!”, “Great set, dude!”, “Bought the shirt to support!”, accompanied by a handshake and an effusive pat on the back. What’s striking is how genuine it all is (don’t get me wrong, these scenes can have issues with elitist jerks, but not on this night). It’s worth noting that this, and other scenes I’ve been in via my bro’s bands, do not revolve around getting drunk. That makes the overall generosity and incredible gratitude of show-goers even more genuine.

There Were Wires hadn’t played live in 18 years. The crowd was more than ready for them. It was obvious in the way they moved toward the singer, arms up, moshing together, singing along, for the entire set. It felt like a needed release for every one of them, band included.

I choked back a tear, watching my brother join in at the front of the crowd, as I reflected on the lowest lows he’s endured, while reveling in the hard work he’s put in, on himself, and with his various bands to get to this point, where he’s on the same bill as one of the bands that influenced him most.

There Were Wires at AS220, Providence, RI, 2023

On the torrentially rainy ride back home someone said, “I felt like I was playing a show too!” Another agreed, “Yeah, I got the stage jitters.” Even though I know these dudes, their excitement and heartfelt comments were a surprise. This is real “bros supporting bros.” For anyone who’s read too many trend pieces about men being lost and isolated, go to more punk shows! The camaraderie and support in these circles is more alive than most other areas of life, regardless of gender.

I certainly haven’t found my own community, but I’m thrilled I get to be along for the ride, in rain or shine, in support of my brother and the opportunity he’s creating for others, as fans and listeners, to release worries and turn chaos into art.