I got to the Rickshaw Theatre for doors and there were maybe five people ahead of me on the sidewalk. East Hastings did its usual thing outside, but the crowd waiting to get in was loose and easy, already hyped for the night. Inside, the hellos started before I'd even found my spot, fellow photographers and faces I know from around the scene. Tonight was a gathering of friends as much as it was a show.
This was a bigger room than the last time I caught Exit Strategy and In Pieces and I came in curious to see what they'd do with the extra space. The Rickshaw gives you room to find out, an honest photo pit up front and the old theatre's raked back opening clean sightlines from anywhere you stand. It wasn't a sellout, but it drew well and kept filling, the floor thickening with every set. The makeup was its own story: families who'd brought their parents standing a few feet from packs of twenty-somethings with drinks in hand, all in for a Saturday night.
Exit Strategy opened, after a few words from the night's promoter and they did not ease anyone in. This is the band that had the crowd moshing the last time I caught them at the Fox and tonight they brought that same energy times three, like the only limit in the room was the room itself. Four of them, playing hard and clearly having a blast doing it, the kind of band you physically cannot stand still for. Near the end of the set they lined up shoulder to shoulder and ran a bit of choreography, swaying their hips and jumping to the side and back through a full rotation, the house rig washing them and the front rows in deep blue and red. "Greener" pulled real cheers and stood out as a highlight. It was the right way to throw the crowd into the night.
Close to nine, In Pieces followed with something more classic rock, not as loud but every bit as impactful, the five-piece bathed almost entirely in red. They were here in support new songs like "Further Away," a recent single ahead of their upcoming album Duality and rather than lean on the fog and full light show I'd seen from them at the Roxy, they just let the playing carry it. Then came the moment of the night. Trip Switch's frontwoman climbed up to sing a few with them and the crowd lost it. The two bands blended like they'd done it a hundred times, her heavier, from-the-throat delivery pulling the whole stage down closer to the floor. It wasn't just a cool collaboration. It was a tell about how close every act on this bill actually is. In a scene that can get competitive, a night like this never feels like a job.
If In Pieces let the playing carry it, Trip Switch built their set on contrast. They were the heaviest band of the night, dark and screamed and genuinely imposing and they were lit the brightest, green and purple floodlights where everyone else had gone moody, the frontwoman out front in a pink dress. She spent some of the first half of the set on her knees at the edge of the stage, locking eyes with people in the crowd, somehow making the big room feel intimate. They're a five-piece I'd been told to see for a while and they did not disappoint. They showcased a brand-new song the crowd ate up and cheered straight through, which is the frustrating, wonderful thing about this band: there's nothing to stream and play later. You simply had to be there. The whole set was a tidal wave, in the best way.
Sifters closed it out and they walked on like three chill dudes who'd wandered up to have some fun, one in a Canada shirt, the drummer with no shirt at all and a foot-stomping beat. Do not let the ease fool you. They shredded and brought the noise, grinning the whole way through. Their cover of "Scotty Doesn't Know" turned into an instant, full-room singalong and when they dropped "Thanks for ruining my life," a song they'd never played live before, the crowd took it like an old favorite. When the set ended the room shouted, in unison, for one more and they obliged, hitting it once more and closing the night at the very peak of its energy, everyone left hanging up there.
None of it would have happened without the man pacing the room all night. Wigged Out Music is largely a one-man operation, built around giving younger artists a place to do what they love and a safe space to do it in and the promoter wasn't some hands-off admin running a spreadsheet. He was up on the stage between every set, introducing the bands, in it, part of it. By the time the lights came up, the standout of NO DEAD AIR wasn't any single set. It was the thing all four bands kept pointing back to. A scene that shows up for its own and plays like family.