Howdy. I have many things to say about the Tenth Anniversary of Louder Than Life (September 26-29, 2024), and I’ll get to all of them eventually (likely not as soon as I’d like; we’ll see), but I’m gonna start at the beginning(ish), which is to say, 2019 (well, 1995 if we’re being technical).

Sheila (aka Mrs. Circlepit) and I both attended our fair share of one-day festivals in our younger days, back when we were shadows of each other’s lives. My first was X-Fest ’95, followed by Lollapalooza ’96, followed by several iterations of the Van’s Warped Tour (between 1998-2001). She attended Lollapalooza ’94, Ozzfest ’98, and the 2002 Sprite Liquid Mix Tour. More recently, we attended Willie Nelson’s Outlaw Music Festival together in 2018, six days before my sweet, sweet mother passed away.

In 2014, my homeboy Dustin scored free tickets to days two and three of Rock on the Range (now known as Sonic Temple – also produced by Danny Wimmer Presents, the folks behind Louder Than Life). That was my first experience with a multi-day festival (even though we only ended up attending one day), and you can read my write-up about that on my old blog here.

I don’t wanna get too much into our first two years at Louder Than Life, because I’ve written about them before as well, but just for some background, Sheila and I attended Day Two of LTL 2019 (the day after the burial of her sweet, sweet paternal grandfather), and all four days of LTL 2021, which, while not directly related to us, had something in the neighborhood of 800,000 US covid-19-related deaths coloring our experience.

We also attended all four days in 2022 (about which I wrote very little, and which I’ll cover directly) and again in 2023 (about which I wrote a little more, but still not a lot, because I got lazy and never got around to finishing the project). I’m gonna cover both of those a bit more before I dive into this year’s fest.

After almost dying in the heat on that one day in 2019, and struggling to find a single sliver of shade that we could both hang out in over the four days of 2021, we decided to upgrade to VIP status in 2022. The promise of a shaded tent, air-conditioned restrooms, and shorter lines for some food vendors was too much for us to resist, but it turned out to be (mostly) a bust. The VIP section seemed to be oversold, and as I mentioned briefly in an old post, many of the dickheads who arrive when the gates open will claim every empty chair, and absolutely refuse to let anyone else use those chairs for any amount of time, even when all 8 of their friends are off wandering around for one reason or another, leaving all 8 of their chairs vacant, except for their backpacks, and the remaining friend’s big fat dumb feet.

Our good friends Mitch and Amanda decided to join us, and we went all out by upgrading to a fancy apartment-suite at the hotel, which is almost certainly the nicest hotel room I’ll ever stay in. It was pretty awesome. Among other things, we were on the 3rd floor, with escalators only steps from our room, so we only had to wait for an elevator when checking in and checking out!

Here’s what was not pretty awesome about Louder Than Life 2022: my dad passed away at 7:42 AM on Day One. In fact, it was the exact opposite of awesome.

Here’s a list of the things that went through my brain upon receiving this news, mostly in order, but not necessarily verbatim:

• This fucking sucks. I can’t believe both of my parents are gone.
• I have to go home and talk to my brother.
• I don’t wanna go home and talk to my brother.
• Tough shit, pal. Sometimes we gotta do things we don’t wanna do.
• If Sheila goes with me, our friends will have nowhere to stay, because the hotel is in her name.
• Shit, the hotel is in her name!
• We spent a lot of money on this trip…
• If I don’t get the opportunity to let out some of the aggression and angst that have been building up inside me since LTL 2021, I’m not sure I’ll make it another year myself.
• Dad is already gone, so it’s not like I can do anything to change the circumstances.
• Aside from Dad, the only immediate family I have left is a brother and a sister, and none of us really get along with each other.
• Dad would absolutely not have understood the amount of money we spent to attend a music festival, but he would definitely not have wanted us to waste that money.
• Maybe I can just go home for a few hours, and return to catch part of Day One, then I’ll play the rest of the weekend by ear.
• Yes, that’s what I’ll do.
• Here I go, then.

And so off I went, driving 2 hours back home to hang out with my brother for a while, and discuss arrangements. I stopped by our house first, to try and rest a moment, check the mail, and make a few phone calls. I eventually told my brother I was going back to Louisville for the weekend to be with Sheila and our friends (I honestly don’t know what he thought/thinks about my decision, because I’m one of the only men in my entire family who ever shares his feelings with anyone). I also told him that when our sister arrived and they went to the funeral home, I trusted his decisions, and that he could feel free to speak for me. I got back on the road, drove like hell back to Louisville, got to the hotel, changed into my festival clothes, happened to catch a shuttle that was just about to depart, got inside the gates, bought 2 Budweisers, and found my crew in front of the Disruptor Stage with less than five minutes to spare before HO99O9 took the stage and blew my mind. It was a very strange and surreal juxtaposition.

Ministry almost made us permanently deaf immediately after, and we tried to watch Tenacious D‘s set after that, but the crowd was too big to really be able to see it, so we headed to the VIP section while Bring Me the Horizon played, so we could rustle up a spot for Day One headliner Nine Inch Nails. They’re one of Sheila’s favorite bands, and I’m not necessarily a huge fan, but I do like plenty of their songs, and I’d never seen them live before, so I was certainly looking forward to it. It ended up being an incredible set, and when they played “Hurt”, I cried for the first time since learning about my dad’s passing, and it felt good, even though I was sad.

I should interject here and mention that my dad and I were never particularly close. He was a very quiet man, raised to keep his feelings and emotions inside, and we didn’t have all that much in common, so we just didn’t talk much. He had a ridiculous sense of humor, which I was lucky to inherit, but aside from that and a love of Clint Eastwood westerns and silly action movies, our common ground was blood, almost entirely. That’s not to say we didn’t love each other; more like we didn’t really understand each other.

He would’ve moved heaven and earth to help me if needed. When I moved to Austin, Texas in 2003, he led the caravan on the 18-ish hour drive and helped unload all of my stuff. And when I split from my ex-wife three years later, he rented a van and drove back down to help me load it all back up and come back home. After my oldest sister died, we started to say “I love you” to each other on a more regular basis, and after my mom passed, we said it every time we talked. I was able to tell him toward the end that I appreciated all the things he’d done for me in my life, and he thanked me for saying so. But the truth of the matter is, I was always closer to Mom, and I had more time to mentally prepare for Dad’s passing, so his death didn’t have the same kind impact on me.

Anyway, the next morning, as I was approaching the front desk to ask for more coffee pods, I got a call from my brother telling me I had to come to the funeral home and sign some insurance papers, as I was the sole beneficiary on his life insurance policy. I went back to the room to share the news, then made the 90-minute drive to Bedford, Indiana, signed the papers, and drove back to Louisville again, arriving just in time to join my crew for lunch at Merle’s Whiskey Kitchen. The lunch was delicious, and we went back to the hotel afterward to catch the shuttle to the festival.

We entered the gates to the sounds of Amigo the Devil, which was the first act of the day that we were hoping to see. We watched In Flames, followed by Clutch, then hauled ass over to the Revolver Stage to catch Helmet, which is always a good time, then watched the beginning of Baroness, headed back to the main stage to the last song from Mastodon, then were treated to an incredible performance from Lamb of God. We went back to the Revolver Stage to watch a little bit of GWAR, and were planning to hang around for Slipknot‘s headlining performance, but all the driving and walking back-and-forth that day and the day before had wiped me completely out, so Sheila and I decided to call it a night, and left the grounds to the sounds of Shinedown (I’m apparently a poet, and didn’t know it).

The next morning the four of us had breakfast at Wild Eggs, which we had to reschedule from Day One (and which has been a Day One tradition for Sheila and me since we started attending the full weekend), then we headed to the venue in the early afternoon, arriving in the midst of a pretty electrifying performance from Airbourne on the main stage. We watched them for a few minutes, then headed back to the Revolver Stage to watch what we learned was the first ever US performance of New Delhi, India’s Bloodywood, who were absolutely incredible. They gave very Roots-era Sepultura vibes, and it was powerful.

We rested a bit, then made our way back to the main stages to watch Sevendust, Jerry Cantrell, Ghostmane (which I hated a lot)(the guy seriously kept yelling “MOOOOVE!” at the crowd while fucking beeping noises were coming from the stage), Chevelle, and as much Alice Cooper as we could possibly watch without cutting into Body Count‘s headlining set on the Disruptor Stage, way back on the far end of the grounds (right next to the Revolver Stage).

Sheila and I were fortunate to see an Alice Cooper headlining show in the fall of 2019, otherwise that would’ve been an impossible choice to make. We arrived with a few minutes to spare, secured a primo spot right on the edge of where the pit ended up being, and had our lives changed by Body Count. I was high as a kite by the time their set ended, and it was all adrenaline (plus probably some bourbon and beer). Rob Zombie conflicted with Body Count, back over on the Loudmouth Stage (aka Main Stage 2), so the only thing I got to see from his set was a full-length trailer for The Munsters, which was released 3 days later, and “Dragula”, which, due to issues which seemed to plague that stage all weekend, did not sound good.

KISS was the headliner that day, and I’ve never been a KISS fan, but they’re obviously a legendary organization, so I was still looking forward to screaming along to a bunch of their dumb songs for a while. My anticipation disappeared moments after they started playing “Detroit Rock City”. According to what I wrote in my journal afterward, “Paul Stanley sounded like he was being strangled while yelling for help.” I stand by that, but I would also add that he sounded like a cat being stepped on. I probably could’ve dealt with it and enjoyed myself a little bit, if not for the fact that Body Count had just ruined live music for me for at least the next 12-14 hours.

On the last day, we caught The Native Howl, Oxymorrons, Anti-Flag, Joey Valence & Brae, and about half of Bad Religion (we coincidentally left while they were playing “Walk Away”) before trying to wrangle some quality spots for Alice in Chains. I never got a chance to see them with Layne Staley, but I fucking love their old albums, and everything they’ve released since they re-formed with William Duvall on lead vocals has also been great, so I was pretty pumped about their performance. What I hadn’t anticipated, until it started happening, was the sheer volume of tears that would fall from me when they played “Rooster”. If you don’t know, the song was written by Jerry Cantrell, about his Vietnam veteran father, and my dad was also a Vietnam vet. Seconds into the song, I started crying. By the time it was finished, I was absolutely sobbing for the first time since my mom’s death, and my voice was almost entirely gone from singing along. It was the culmination of the entire roller coaster of a weekend, and it was exactly what I needed.

Red Hot Chili Peppers finished off the night, and they were even more boring than I thought they’d be.

I’m fully aware that I haven’t talked about this year’s festival yet, but like I said last week, I can’t really write about this year’s fest the way I want to without writing about some things from the past two years that I haven’t written about yet (at least not for public consumption). I’ll get there eventually, and I’ll try to make it as entertaining as possible, but it needs context to really make sense.

To be fair, I’m not sure how much sense any of this has made yet.

As for last year’s LTL, I’m gonna write less here, since I already made two full posts about it, plus a bit of a recap of the remainder of it earlier this year (all linked above), but I need to mention that, like every year since 2019, death was intertwined with the fest, although last year it was an imminent death rather than a recent one.

My mother-in-law Susan passed away in early October last year. Susan was a fantastic human being, and she would’ve given you the shirt off her back if you needed it. Since the day I met her, she was never anything but kind to me, even when I didn’t really deserve it. She loved to feed people, and she had a great sense of humor (even if she did refuse to give Futurama a chance). She was courageous and strong through her struggle, and I never heard her complain once. Her presence in this realm is, and will always be, missed.

She was diagnosed with cancer of the endometrium in January 2019, and doctors were able to remove her uterus, and she was fine and seemingly cancer-free for almost five years, then she started having pains in her hip and leg in late fall 2022. Thanks to the wonderful for-profit medical care in this country, she was getting her pain treated, but no doctor and no amount of botched biopsies could figure out what was wrong with her until she was sent to a hospital in Louisville, where she was given the diagnosis we all knew was coming: her cancer was back, and had basically started filling up the space where her uterus used to be.

A stage four diagnosis came soon enough, she was given a relatively short amount of time to live, and we all began to wait. Every free day we had was spent visiting her, because we expected every visit to be our last. She kept on trucking, even staying alive while Sheila and I did our best to enjoy last year’s Louder Than Life. One of the last semi-coherent things she said to us was “I want you to go and have fun. You spent so much money on drugs. No, wait, you spent money on tickets. I’m on drugs.” Hilarious to the very end.

Her funeral service was beautiful and moving, and I’m sure I won’t be able to listen to Led Zeppelin’s “Tangerine” or Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here” without crying ever again.

Having the inevitability of Susan’s death hanging over the festival made us feel weird about enjoying ourselves, but we did our best, assuming every day that we’d get a phone call telling us she was gone. Sheila and I both bawled like babies when Green Day played “Wake Me Up When September Ends” near the end of their phenomenal set that closed out Day Four last year. We drove from the hotel straight back to the in-laws’ house the next day, and every free day afterward. Susan’s body held on for 13 more days until she passed peacefully in her sleep.

During the early days of her diagnosis, an album called Stage Four by a band called Touche Amore came into my awareness. I’d heard of the band before, but I hadn’t really thought about them one way or the other until I happened upon a reddit post that encouraged me to check them out. After a particularly shitty day at work, I decided to listen to Stage Four while I drove across town to get a Culver’s veggie burger basket with cheese curds and a root beer, because I needed to eat my feelings. By the time I got home, I was approximately 3/4 of the way through the album, and I could tell it was on the way to becoming one of my favorite albums of all time.

Released in 2014, Stage Four was written and recorded following the death of singer Jeremy Bolm’s mother, Dorothy. She, too, whipped cancer’s ass once, only to find it back and metastasizing. The album is so fucking catchy and good, and it’s simultaneously heartbreaking and uplifting, and I’ve listened to it well over a hundred times since that drive home by way of Culver’s, easily. In addition to dealing with Susan’s illness, it also helped me deal with all the other recent losses I’d experienced. I’ll write about it more at some point.

All of that is pertinent to this year for a few reasons:

• This was our first Louder Than Life without the grim specter of death hanging over it.
• Susan found a way to be there with us this year, and it was fuckin rad.
• Touche Amore was announced as one of the bands on Day One this year, and I was finally gonna get to sing along with them.

Spoiler alert: I did, and it was amazing, but I’ve written enough for today. I’ll do a full write-up of Day One soon (along with the pre-party that was part of our package)(alliteration!), and unlike last year, I will actually finish writing about the whole weekend. Here’s some footage of a different performance from Touche Amore. I wish I could’ve seen them in a crowd like this one, but at least I got to see them.

Thanks for reading.