Some might consider arriving alone to a show, only to find a line outside the venue, stretching down the block, to be one of their worst concert experiences. At the BurnDown Tour at 924 Gilman St., however, this was exactly where I wanted to be. Though I arrived alone, I never once felt like I actually was.
For the past month, a handful of bands have toured under the BurnDown Fest banner, each date bringing a unique lineup of punk and emo groups. This Friday, Slinger, Soap Box Derby, Stella, Love Letter and Febuary brought the festival to its final stop. With the show falling on the eve of All Hallow’s Eve, fans arrived at the sold-out show in costumes and heavy makeup, showcasing an impressive collection of niche emo references. Even the line outside felt like its own gathering, a preview of the atmosphere waiting inside.
As the room filled, San Francisco’s own Slinger took the stage, wasting no time pulling the crowd into its sound and performing a beautiful set. The lights dimmed, and what fans didn’t yet know was that once the music started, there would be little reason to leave until the very end.
Although the doors opened after Slinger’s set, there was no rush to surrender a good spot in the crowd. Fans stayed packed together, only occasionally searching for a breeze from the outdoors. Soon after, Orlanda, Florida, group Soap Box Derby took the stage. The band made an immediate impression, blending shoegaze-tinged screams and heart-wrenching lyrics. Pits began to form as vocalists Lily Wednesday Minks and Zeke Morton traded verses of spoken word poetry and drifting screams on popular track “A window between us.” When Minks delivered the line “I can’t hear that you are sorry,” the crowd shouted it right back.
Next up, Stella, a three-piece emo band from Eugene, Oregon, brought the room to a storm the moment they took center stage, even despite the group’s small catalog. Strangers wrapped their arms around one another as fans at the front were pushed deep into the stage, desperately trying to keep their footing. During the band’s fan-favorite track “Secondhand,” the room reached another level of excitement. Fans climbed onto the stage and dove into the crowd, disregarding Gilman’s no-stage-diving policy. Voices rose above as fans shouted along to the chorus, “Say it (Say it) / Don’t say you do (Don’t say you do)”; it was messy and overwhelming, and exactly the kind of moment you’d hope to stumble upon at a show.
By the time Love Letter went on, it was clear that Gilman had been waiting for it. The crowd folded in on itself, inching closer before the first guitar note had even been strummed. Under the red lights, every face in the room looked a little frightened, with tinges of excitement underneath. Security spent much of the set onstage, flashing their lights toward fans that launched themselves into the crowd. Somehow, everyone found their way back up, lifted up by the hands beneath them. Looking across the room revealed a surreal sight: Hands were raised everywhere, some clapping, others reaching to catch the next person. Love Letter had turned the room into something entirely its own.
Closing the night was Febuary, a familiar name at Gilman whose previous appearances have consistently sold out. Alternating between new material and fan favorites, the crowd was engaged until the very end. The highlight of the set came when vocalist Rila asked the men to step back, inviting all of the femmes to the front. Throughout the set, Rila passed the microphone to the crowd, but for the final song, “Run Like A Girl,” she made sure each femme had a chance to be heard. Everyone joined Rila in sharing the song’s final scream, a powerful ending to a night that had already given the crowd so much to scream about.
By the time I finally felt the night breeze, it was hard to believe I had arrived alone. Between the music, the new friends that made the night so special and the strangers who held me up, BurnDown couldn’t have curated a better final night. Though the fest had ended, the excitement was unlikely to disappear as easily. Maybe that’s the best part of a night like that: Even after the last song, one will always have something else to hold onto.