Author’s note: I’d like to give a shout out to the piece of shit virus that killed my laptop (for a little while) when I was in the middle of this review, delaying this post by almost a week!  No worries, steezers, although a little late, I still bring you my annoying opinions. That is all. Carry on.

Everybody and their mother knows about Torche. If you haven’t, and you  a) live in the 305 and b) listen to heavy music, you better c) get your ass to their next show. The story of Torche is a special one for us down here in South Florida (which I won’t go into here…it’s a show review, remember?), it’s a story of local boys that have broken out of our little scene and have successfully managed to spread their brand of thick, powerful and sonically delicious rock n’ roll to the globe. With a pair of full-length albums and a handful of EPs under their belt, they are out there doing their thing and showing that Miami is not just shiny DJs and Rock en Español (no offense to all my shiny DJs and Rock en Español’ers out there, you know I got love for you too). Having played many shows across the country with national acts (most recently with Coheed & Cambria & Circa Survive) as well as across the pond in Europe, they have fans all around the world, but we’re the lucky ones that can claim them as ours. Since I’ve caught them live on several occasions since their beginnings, it was a definite “fuck yes!” when I was told they were playing again at Churchill’s last Wednesday as an end to yet another tour. I was happy…it’s been a while.

I rode out to the show with a buddy of mine (who almost gave me a coronary with his driving skills, but I ain’t calling him out, he’s bigger than me) and braced my ears for the usual rapeage by way of loud muthafuckin’ decibels that occur at a Torche show. After kissing the ground for making it to Little Haiti (I know, weird) in one piece, the good times were definitely foreshadowed by the greetings and beers with friends as soon as I walked through that glass vestibule (you know, for security and shit).

After a loud soundcheck and some downtime, Heartstrings opened up the night. I hadn’t heard of these guys before but I did recognize their drummer, who I didn’t know was a drummer, if that makes any sense. Turns out it was David (or “Dub”), vocalist for Mehkago N.T. and Shitstorm, doing something a little different than what I’m used to seeing him involved in; a punk sound heavily rooted in the poppier side of the Ramones. It was a fun set, including a cover of that oh-so-famous-thanks-to-Dirty Dancing classic, Do You Love Me by The Contours. I’m glad to see more bands having fun with pop punk again, I hope to see more of it!

Heartstrings ends their set, Churchill’s continues to steadily fill up, more friends show up, I continue drinking. The next act was a band whose name has been buzzing in my ear lately but due to some shit always preventing me from checking them out, unfortunately their music hasn’t. Finally, I get to witness Beings, the band with Beatriz of Floor fame, banging on the drums. This was Beings homecoming show as well, having been on the road with Torche, they looked happy to be home. Beings really sounded like a lot of things to me. I could blame it on many things; my choice of beer, my position near the stage (up front!) or my rambling ear.  Whatever it was, they sounded great and names like Jesus Lizard and Sonic Youth popped into my mind, but whatever, don’t pin them down, they don’t deserve that, they deserve you to be there, up front.

At a reasonable hour (around midnight, I think), Torche fucked shit up, opening their set with Sandstorm, a good kick to the chest to get shit going. By this time the place was full and the front of the stage was lined with the familiar sight of heads and bodies swaying, the perfect balance to Steve (vocals, guitar) doing his crazy eyes and bugged out guitar humping on stage. As they moved along through some newer material as well as older favorites (U.F.O., Mentor, Healer), the crowd was transfixed and mesmerized as usual until the bouncier Fat Waves was played. The kids (yes, I don’t care how old we are…at a punk/hardcore show, we’re all “kids”) really couldn’t contain themselves and the frenzy of a Torche pit exploded, always a good thing, even if it was for a bit. The boys kept up a tight set, really whipping up the front row swayers into full fledged body spasms, pounding on the stage and howling along, especially when they shredded with The Charge of the Brown Recluse (my personal fav) and the last song, Tarpit Carnivore, which was only fitting, since that song only conjures up images of THE END for me, a true work of apocalyptic proportions. After recollecting my eardrums and moseying back to the bar for the final beers, goodbyes and the fear of the drive back home with Evel Knievel, it felt good knowing that this city produces bands like Torche, a band that has really opened doors for the heavier acts down in the 305 and helped change the perception on what a “Miami band” should sound like. If you haven’t done yourself the favor, check them out next time, you’ll thank your city too.