Rarely does a Sunday night feel like a full-scale assault on the senses, yet the Roxian became the center of a hardcore history lesson as the legendary Circle Jerks and Gorilla Biscuits rolled through the Burgh for a massive punk masterclass. The Circle Jerks emerged from the initial 1979 blast of the Los Angeles scene and essentially defined the “skate punk” sound with their short, sharp shocks of adrenaline and cynical humor. Across the country a few years later, the Gorilla Biscuits became the standard-bearers for the late-80s New York youth crew movement by swapping nihilism for a sense of community and melodic, high-energy anthems. Together, these two pillars of the genre represented the dual DNA of underground music.
The chaos kicked off with Negative Approach, who wasted no time on introductions or formalities. John Brannon remains one of the most intimidating frontmen in the entire business as he stared holes through the audience while delivering vocals that sound like gravel being put through a woodchipper. In a good way. The set was a relentless no-frills blitzkrieg that barely paused for air between the songs. Negative Approach set a standard of intensity that most younger bands couldn’t hope to match on their best day. By the time they wrapped up their short but punishing set, the Roxian was already a swirling mess of limbs and flying beer.
When Gorilla Biscuits finally bounded onto the stage, the energy in the room shifted from grim aggression to a massive, communal celebration. Anthony “Civ” Civarelli moved with the restlessness of a teenager while guitarist Walter Schreifels held down the melodic core that made this band so influential to the post-hardcore movement. Bassist Arthur Smilios locked in with drummer Luke Abbey to provide that signature “bounce” that defines the GB sound while Charlie Garriga filled out the wall of noise on second guitar. It was a visual reminder that while these guys have aged, their chemistry remains a finely tuned engine designed for maximum kinetic output. They looked like they were having the time of their lives up there.
The setlist was a “best-of” marathon that had the entire room shouting every single word, especially during the powerhouse opening of “New Direction.” The boundary between performer and fans completely evaporated as Civ kept hopping off the stage. He spent a good portion of the set leaning over the barricade, shoving his microphone right into the faces of the front row. He shared the vocals with anyone who he could reach. Seeing a legend of the scene eye-to-eye while scream-singing “Stand Still” made the massive Roxian feel just like a cramped basement show in 1988, which is exactly where this music thrives best.
Following that whirlwind, the Circle Jerks took the stage to remind everyone exactly where the “hard” in hardcore originally came from. Keith Morris was draped in his signature dreadlocks, leading a charge with a voice that hasn’t lost an ounce of its bratty, biting edge. Greg Hetson attacked his guitar with the same frenetic down-strokes that fueled the band’s 1980 debut while Zander Schloss prowled the stage with a cool, rhythmic precision on the bass. A special highlight of the night occurred halfway through the set when everything came to a grinding halt for a celebration. It was drummer Joey Castillo’s birthday, and the band took a legitimate, much-needed breather to bring out a big cake just for him. Watching these grizzled veterans gather around the drum kit to have Joey blow out candles was such a rare and wholesome moment of levity, but soon they dove right back into the chaos.
The set was a run of classics that showed no mercy to the aging knees of the crowd. “Wild in the Streets” ignited a circle pit that spanned nearly the entire lower floor while “Beverly Hills” and “World Up My Ass” served as blistering reminders of the band’s satirical and anti-establishment roots. Keith Morris navigated the stage with a strange and jittery grace while pausing between songs to offer sardonic commentary that’s even more necessary now than it was 40 years ago. They closed the night with a blistering rendition of “Question Authority” that left the audience exhausted. Everyone was drenched and had ringing in their ears, but they clearly wanted another round of the sonic assault.
Looking around the Roxian throughout the night, the most striking thing wasn’t the stage setup or the volume or the very impressive mohawks, but rather the sheer range of the demographic representation. You had fifteen-year-olds in fresh band tees getting their first taste of a real pit standing shoulder-to-shoulder with fifty-year-olds who likely saw these bands during their original runs in the eighties. The grey hair and the piercings mingled effortlessly, a true testament that the subculture has officially become a multi-generational heritage. At one point, Keith Morris looked out at the sea of faces – young, old, and everything in between – and summed up the evening perfectly: “Once you’re in this, you’re a fucking lifer.”
March 29th, 2026
