Drew Latshaw
Newport Music Hall
Columbus, OH
Friday night at Newport Music Hall in Columbus felt less like a concert and more like a Saturday morning cartoon that somehow crashed headfirst into a punk rock house party.
The evening kicked off with SULLVN, who wasted no time making an impression. If the crowd wasn’t already paying attention, they certainly were when Dicky Barrett emerged as a surprise guest toward the end of their set. The unmistakable voice of the former Mighty Mighty Bosstones frontman immediately drew cheers as he joined the band for their hit, “That’s the Impression.” The collaboration felt natural rather than gimmicky, adding a shot of adrenaline to an already energetic opening set. For many in attendance, it was one of those unexpected moments that becomes part of a show’s lore before the headliner has even taken the stage.
On a personal note, Dicky and I had a bit of a moment while he was performing. He spotted me in the pit with my camera trained on him, stopped in his tracks, crossed his arms, and locked eyes with my lens in the most intimidating “mean mug” pose he could muster. I snapped a couple of frames, then gave him an apologetic shrug, thinking I’d somehow annoyed him.
After the set, he found me in the crowd, laughed, and explained that there are a lot of terrible pictures of him out there. He wanted to make sure I got one where he actually looked tough. We shared a bro-hug, a high-five, and a laugh. It ended up being one of my favorite moments of the night.
Next came Murphys Law, and if SULLVN lit the fuse, Murphys Law detonated it.
The legendary New York hardcore veterans delivered exactly what longtime fans hoped for: chaos, humor, and relentless audience participation. Frontman Jimmy Gestapo remains one of punk rock’s greatest ringmasters, effortlessly turning the barrier between performer and audience into little more than a suggestion. Crowd surfers appeared early and often. Fans shouted every lyric back toward the stage. At times it felt as though the entire room was participating in a collective exercise in controlled anarchy.
What stood out most wasn’t just the music. It was how much fun everyone was having.
One of my favorite moments came when Jimmy started handing out candy and juice boxes to the crowd. Looking around, I noticed one of the widest age ranges I’ve seen at a punk show. The youngest fan I spotted couldn’t have been more than four years old, while others had clearly been attending shows for decades. Watching those generations stand shoulder to shoulder reminded me that good music doesn’t care how old you are.
For most of the set, Jimmy was either hanging over the barricade or right in the middle of the audience. Judging by the smiles around me, the interaction became every bit as entertaining as the songs themselves. For a couple of hours, nobody seemed worried about work, bills, deadlines, or whatever was waiting outside Newport’s doors. They were simply present, sharing a moment together.
Then came the moment the crowd had been waiting for.
The Aquabats stormed the stage in a burst of color, energy, and wonderfully absurd superhero theatrics. Trying to explain an Aquabats show to someone who’s never seen one almost sounds ridiculous. Giant inflatable creatures. Costumed villains. Audience members becoming part of the show. A room full of adults happily embracing their inner ten-year-old.
And somehow…
It all works.
What separates The Aquabats from many novelty acts is that beneath the costumes and comedy is a genuinely talented band. Even during the three songs I was permitted to photograph, their musicianship was sharp, their energy contagious, and the crowd completely invested.
Unfortunately, my photo pass ended after those first three songs, so I can’t honestly tell you every twist and turn that followed. What I can say is this: judging by the reaction inside Newport Music Hall, I have a hard time believing the show slowed down for even a second after I walked out.
By the time I left, one thing was abundantly clear.
Joy was the headliner.
From SULLVN’s surprise collaboration with Dicky Barrett, to Murphys Law’s audience-fueled punk rock celebration, to the opening spectacle of The Aquabats, Friday night’s show delivered exactly what live music is supposed to deliver: memorable moments, genuine human connection, and a reminder that sometimes growing older doesn’t have to mean growing up.
