Tied Down recap
Tied Down Fest in Detroit was a gathering of 2500 freaks, felons and fashionistas mashed on top of each other for two long days to celebrate hardcore, punk and underground metal in its natural habitat. The fest was in an abandoned industrial facility-turned art space-turned makeshift bar called the Russell Industrial Center; a gritty red brick factory with broken windows and dirt in place of pavement.
I wanted to get there around 12:30 on Saturday to catch the early bands, but due to some entirely foreseen bullshit, including a massive registration line, I didn’t get in the door until around 2. I immediately found the washroom, chatted briefly with a friend and then tried to buy a $4 bottle of water. While I was at the bar, a band took to the two foot high stage at the other end of the massive rectangular room and started playing a Killing Time cover.
I wanted to get up close and sing along, but my bartender couldn’t figure out how to make change on a $20. I spent half the song trying to convince her she owed me an extra $5 on top of the $11 she gave me. She tried to play it off by saying the water bottle was actually $5. The music was so loud and the song was almost over so I considered it a lost cause, grabbed my water, and walked to the stage area. Thus began a whirlwind weekend of fast, heavy music and stunted social interaction.
The first day had a heavier and more metallic billing, but also a throwback trip. Two of the last three bands to play that night broke up for the first time in the 80s — Gorilla Biscuits and Negative Approach. Hometown heroes Neverending Game played in between them. NEG, according to eyewitness accounts, had the most violent crowd reaction of the weekend. I was only peripherally watching because by that point I had been standing in work boots for over eight hours. I spend most of that set talking to some dude named Max about his purple War Hungry Chopped and Screwed t shirt. The band sounded pretty good but I couldn’t bring myself to actively engage.
My biggest challenge at any festival is staying on my feet for eight plus hours. I’m fairly confident in my ability to stand on a rubber mat in a concrete warehouse and work a machine all day. Once you factor in walking around, swaying back and forth to the rhythm and (very) occasionally slam dancing, however, my ol’ dawgs just aren’t up to the task. Neither is my poor back, who struggles with the weight of carrying my McDonalds gut. The hours of standing plus the oppressive heat on the first half of Saturday had me cranky in between sets, but once a band got into a real rhythm, and many of them did, I was able to transcend my physical shackles and fully immerse in the music.
Every band who played was good, even the ones I don’t care for on record. Earth Crisis was the only slight disappointment. They must have been feeling the same old man ailments as I was, because they played slow and lethargic like their feet hurt and their backs were tired. Still, their setlist was all hits and the “Firestorm” pileup was a highlight of the weekend. The other old guy bands rocked. So did the young guy bands. The funniest dichotomy to me was seeing the tough guys in basketball jerseys run to the front for bands like God’s Hate or D-Bloc, then seeing them entirely clear out and a group of dudes in cuffed jeans and dad hats appear to watch Gag and Warfare.
The crowd didn’t seem quite as divided on Sunday. The day two bill had a more straightforward hardcore flavour, so I feel like there was a bit more unity in the building. I left my hotel an hour later than the day before but walked into the venue around the same time.
The air was thick with anticipation for headliners Trapped Under Ice. It seemed like the energy all day was building for the moment Justice Tripp and company took the stage. Not that the other bands were underwhelming. I honestly didn’t feel like I saw a bad set all weekend. Some of my most anticipated moments were on Sunday, namely sets from End It and Xibalba, who didn’t let me down one bit. Drain brought a beach party to the concrete shores of the Detroit River and Drug Church frontman Patrick Kindlon tore down the house with his Vogel-like thirst for stagedives.
The wave was building all day, but it crashed in a triumphant climax when TUI went on. The room was on fire from the opening chords of “Born to Die” to the final grunt in “Believe”. There was crowdkilling. There were stagedives. Everyone was singing along. It was the perfect cap on an amazing weekend. It also ended at a reasonable time, due to an unfortunate accident suffered by Lil Ugly Mane that forced him to drop. I was bummed to miss a LUM set, especially under such shitty circumstances, but I was pretty excited to get back to the hotel before 10:30 and eat leftover Buddy’s pizza.
I had a great time at Tied Down this year, but to be honest, I may never go to another out of town fest. I knocked off a bunch of bucket list bands last weekend, so I’m not sure what exactly could compel me to endure the little annoyances of festing again. Maybe a Title Fight reunion? Regardless, if Tied Down was the last big fest I ever attend, I will have gone out on top. I don’t think I could have got more bang for my buck.