Sebastian Cruz, Contributor
Has the Dionysus Disco ever had a mosh pit? Given Oberlin College’s penchant for alternative styles of music, insofar as consumption and performances are concerned, it must be possible, no? Consider the odd situation Philadelphia punks find themselves in: following the breakthrough success of their fourth album Diaspora Problems, Oberlin College taps them to come perform a free concert before their co-headlining tour takes place later in the fall… again. Yes, before the concert that took place earlier this month, the band performed for this school, a performance that lead vocalist Jordan Pierce recalled “nobody came [to].” Now, with the power of a recent critically lauded project and the uptick in their listening base, Soul Glo made their strident return to us liberal arts plebeians to make a few things clear: they’re gonna shred, you’re gonna listen, and you’re also gonna get your fucking shit rocked.
The ‘Sco is not exactly a venue for artists with so much to prove. In the experiences most have had with it, the ‘Sco is a cool little emporium to get attendants at most riled and energetic, though not exactly, as one is wont to say, rocked. So Soul Glo’s blistering dive into the sort of hardcore punk volatility that anyone with even a passing knowledge of the genre’s live show conventions is not only unprecedented in Oberlin’s contemporary(ish) performance history, but downright righteous. Pierce, between songs, voiced his frank surprise at the turnout and reciprocated energy the attendants (and I) expressed. This very brief comment belied the command the band had of the stage, nay, the room as they careened from one barnburner to the next. The uniqueness of a concert experience doesn’t come from a constant barrage of banger after banger after banger after banger—that can be exhilarating, absolutely, but exhausting all the same. It comes from the experimentation that live shows facilitate. Soul Glo revealed their penchant for more electronic-leaning soundscapes on numerous sections of Diaspora Problems, and they delivered upon the audience an industrial-grade sheen. Guitarist and programmer GG Guerra infused their songs with the sort of skull-shaking electronic accent for their already pummeling sound. Lengthy song transitions dotted the setlist and further proved Soul Glo’s deepening understanding of a more dynamic musical flow.
Alright with that out of the way, how many ways can Soul Glo melt your face before you cry out “too much!”? Preferably a lot. At the helm, Pierce stands firmly as perhaps the most versatile and fluid instrument in the band. His howls and shrieks was hair-raising enough on their studio output to inspire a five-minute listening cooldown, but his extra presence, his concrete authority that he exudes over the bruising instrumentation behind him furthers the urgency so innate within the music they perform. Alongside his expected punky vocalizations is Pierce’s vicious, speedy, rap-esque verse flow that really makes one consider: Jesus, this guy does it all. And he often combined this mode with that punk shriek like running your head through a high-speed lathe. His bandmates are nothing to sniff at either. Drummer TJ Stevenson (shirtless, natch) continued a live band staple of being the hardest worker and the undisputed MVP. Stevenson skips the primality sometimes typical of punk bands with incredible live shows and expends every technical move while still giving the rest of his mates the ground to do their thing. It’s a rare gift, being able to be flashy and be visceral in the same breath (or same drum strike.)
Soul Glo pulled no punches showing who exactly they were and nothing less. Dotted along their setlist were two surefire crowd killers, “Driponomics'' and “Gold Chain Punk (whogonbeatmyass?)” The former elicited the gasps and titillation most typical of bands’s beloved heaters, and “Driponomics” was no exception. A heavy, primarily rap-centric ode to getting big money as a means of praxis, “Driponomics” represented a section in the show that served to reel in those uninitiated to their sound, the ones who arrived buttoned-up and stiletto’d down. Pierce’s down-to-earth rave up delivery sent a shockwave of attendees to join in his luxurious chants of “Yeezy, Nike/Supreme still hot to the hypebeasts.” But to deliver the final wallop, Soul Glo had to summon what is effectively their de facto anthem: “Gold Chain Punk (whogonbeatmyass?)” The opening track of their breakthrough release, Soul Glo ensnared their audience in an almost divine (whatever that means in the case of hardcore scripture) exaltation of everything they did best. Dueling bass/guitar squeals form a percussive backbone that allows for Pierce to rattle off with no abandon and no shame, the struggles he fights to keep at bay. Even his flowing and flowing growls and howls of “Can I live?” underpin the staggering vulnerability that the band carried throughout. Can an unapologetically black punk band live in such a space like Oberlin? This place is an institution that can be a hotbed of dismissiveness. Especially toward anything and anyone truly transgressive enough to point its blindspots back to it. Can an unapologetically black punk band exist in such a space, even as briefly as they did? At the end of “Gold Chain,” Pierce whipped the energy around back onto himself in a physical manner, bending to the floor, face up against the ceiling, and held that final howl to the point where nothing else, in that moment, could stop it. The audience leaned into him, absorbing the power. Soul Glo bounded back into the ‘Sco with the righteous appeal to fill it to the max. Their bombast and fury kept it at the max.