Review: JD Garrahy

It’s Friday night in Indonesia. It’s hot, it’s humid, and I’m on my way to a gig in the lead-up to Hammersonic Festival in the morning. Now, let’s give some context to this gig—I only learned of its existence on the plane ride over. Let’s fuckin’ go!!

In a tiny back street of southern Jakarta, the strip is awash with a scene not unlike a gig in Australia: black shirts, tattoos, and a hefty amount of smoke in the air. Inside this tiny venue, capped at 150, I was privileged to bear witness to the one, the only, Agnostic Front. There is only one, and there will only ever be one AF.

As we shuffle into the venue, the lads come in behind us, ready to tear this place limb from limb and leave it begging for more. It’s not often you feel the atmosphere change in an instant but tonight is exactly that. One of the best ways to witness the pioneers of hardcore punk—small stage, dive bar setting, and a whole heap of flailing appendages.

Let it be said that without Agnostic Front leading the charge, you wouldn’t have any of the hardcore bands you scrimp and save your hard-earned money to witness in your local venue. They were all directly or indirectly influenced by this incredible band. But I digress—I’ve lost my bearings and need to get back on track.

Now, I’m not going to focus on the setlist, as there are some who weren’t able to gain access to this show and are still waiting to see them Sunday. I’m not the one to spoil that for those who missed out. Instead, I’ll try to explain the feeling of this gig.

Give me a hardcore show—any hardcore show in Australia—and multiply it tenfold. The HC scene is alive and well in Indo and, fuck me, if that isn’t enough to draw you over to this magic place, then nothing will. Within the four walls of this intimate venue, we sang in unison, shared moments with mates, and created new ones with the locals and some of the bands on the bill of Hammersonic. In no way, shape, or form should any of this night be forgotten—and I can tell you now, it damn well won’t be.

As we exit from what was a jam-packed 50-minute set, we trade light-hearted ribbings with the Lich King lads, say our goodbyes, and load into a taxi for the trip back to our lodgings. It’s now time to prepare for what is sure to be one incredible weekend. If it’s even 10% of what we experienced tonight, then we are in for quite possibly the best festival in the southern hemisphere.

Stay tuned.