As I walked into Brisbane's Crowbar, it already felt like the room was about to be tested.
It's humid. It's tight, and there's that familiar Brisbane hardcore buzz, this time crackling for tonight's sold out, Comeback Kid's Wake The Dead anniversary tour (6 February). Twenty years deep. Who would've thunk it?!
Low humidity is hanging heavy inside Crowbar. Black tees are already plastered to backs, arms marked up before a single note has landed. This feels like a ready crowd.
There's a wide spread of ages too; some are super psyched itching to windmill, while for others, four bands on the bill means a hold-back strategy is in play.
Sunshine Coast hardcore punk outfit No Harm open and do it properly. No easing in. No soft launch. From the jump, it's confrontational and grounded, hardcore that sounds lived in, not rehearsed for approval.
The growing crowd hugs the edges of the pit, giving the floor to those early arriving, energised fiends' windmilling arms and legs. Punters watch their warmup techniques syncing with the blunt riffs; every now and then punching the air in time with the barking vocal delivery, the breakdowns landing square on Crowbar's forever-sticky floor.
Fourth song in and a not-so-random moment unfolds; Ben from fellow Sunny Coast band Human Condition briefly has security twitching until he launches straight into vocals for their Trapped Under Ice cover, 'Skeleton Head'. They nail it. Security is off the hook. The crowd absolutely froths.
No Harm - image © Clea-marie Thorne
That kicks the pit up another gear, not full chaos yet, but restless. Shoulders swinging wider. No Harm look comfortable commanding the room; not grateful, not tentative, like a band that belongs here. Honest, unflashy, effective. Exactly how an opener should land. By the time they wrap it up, the room is alert and leaning forward.
The changeover's a bit long in the tooth, but it gives punters time to hit the bar, score merch, and brace. Phantoms hit next and immediately raise the pace. Sharper. Leaner. More volatile. Their set slices straight through the room, songs flying past in a blur with barely a breath between them.
Caed Francis delivers vocals that feel less like performance and more like release: raw, urgent, unfiltered. Adrian Kelly's guitar work keeps everything jagged and tense, riffs snapping rather than sprawling.
The pit shifts gears again, chaos stepping up, mic grabs coming thick and fast. Sweat's dripping, air growing heavier by the minute. They're pulling the crowd straight into material from 'All The Devils Are Here' (2024), no hand-holding required.
In contrast, tracks like fan favourite 'Bad Moon Rising' draw in a deep connection across the room, shout-backs flying, respect traded between scenes. This is a band bridging eras without trying.
Phantoms - image © Clea-marie Thorne
Another changeover, and the room is buzzing, chatter bouncing between first-time Comeback Kid encounters and war stories from the early 2000s.
Gridiron waste no time erasing doubt. This is heavier. Thicker. Built purely for impact. They open hard and the pit responds instantly, bodies colliding with intent, no hesitation – diving and surfing are in full swing within seconds.
'Talk Real', 'Trench' and 'Tombstone' are pure pit fuel, devastatingly simple riffs engineered to move bodies, and they do exactly that. The floor turns feral. Side-to-side chaos crashing into hard two-stepping, spin kicks flying without apology.
There's no forced hype, no overcooked banter. Just a band visibly stoked to finally be playing Brisbane and feeding directly off the reaction. Matt Karll carries a natural swagger up front, while the rhythm section keeps everything bouncing and brutal underneath him.
Gridiron - image © Clea-marie Thorne
By the time they finish, the room is bruised, breathless, and grinning. A near half-hour changeover follows, the room thrumming with anticipation. Lights drop. The crowd surges forward on shared instinct.
Comeback Kid don't F around. They arrive onstage to roars, as 'False Idols Fall' kicks the door clean off its hinges. Every lyric is screamed back at the band. Fists punching air. Bodies flying instantly.
There's no barrier here, just a solid wall of bodies pressed straight up against the stage. A photographer beside me loses their camera to the floor; it lands at my feet as the first stage diver launches overhead.
From here on, fans take every chance to join the band onstage, climbing up, grabbing a mic line, then throwing themselves straight back into the mass below. Hands are already raised, ready to catch. 'My Other Side' has me ejecting myself, and my cameras, from the joyful brutality unfolding at the front of the stage.
Comeback Kid - image © Clea-marie Thorne
'The Trouble I Love' keeps things tight and punishing, Andrew Neufeld pacing the stage like someone who still believes every word he's shouting. There's zero separation between band and crowd. This is full immersion.
'Talk Is Cheap' lands like a rallying cry, Crowbar answering in one voice. 'Partners In Crime' and 'Our Distance' follow, the pit widening as more bodies pile in. Neufeld is constantly pointing the mic into faces, letting the room finish the lines.
When 'Bright Lights Keep Shining' hits, nostalgia and aggression collide. Older heads yell every word, younger kids throw themselves in like it's brand new. 'Falling Apart' and 'Losing Patience' keep the surge relentless. 'Final Goodbye' carries weight without softening the impact.
Comeback Kid - image © Clea-marie Thorne
Then 'Heavy Steps' turns the room feral (again). Slower, meaner, bodies moving in thick, heaving waves. By the time 'Wasted Arrows' and 'G.M. Vincent & I' rip through, the floor is slick, the air thick, the pit an unholy tangle of limbs and sweat.
'All In A Year' offers a brief chance to scream from somewhere deeper. . . Oh it's getting messy. The frenzy holds momentum like sharks in a burley slick. 'Absolute' and the rip-snorter 'Broadcasting…' feed the chaos. Heads nodding. Shoulders swinging. Everyone clocking this night is leaving marks.
Then it's 'Wake The Dead'. The entire room erupts. Every voice screaming that chorus like it still matters, because it does. Stage divers are launching from everywhere. Frequent flyers. Strangers catching strangers. Everyone emptying whatever's left in the tank. A flesh wound here and there, nothing slowing anyone down.
Comeback Kid - image © Clea-marie Thorne
Afterwards, walking out, people look wrecked in the best way. Shirts soaked. Voices blown. Adrenaline still rattling. Comeback Kid aren't leaning on history. They're reinforcing why these songs still hit, why rooms still lose their minds when they're played loud and without compromise.
This is hardcore doing exactly what it's meant to do – pulling people together, knocking them around a bit and sending them home lighter than they arrived.
