Do you remember your first real concert? By “real,” I mean the first time you ever went to see a band you actually liked, not like the time my parents took me to see Cheap Trick at the State Fair, or even that time I accidentally saw LeAnn Rimes at the amusement park (it was not amusing). No, I’m talking about the first time you actively pursued a band whose music meant something to you and having an unforgettable time at one of their shows.

All the way back in the early 2000s when I was just a young chap, I picked up a sampler album at Hot Topic (I know) called Pure Punk Rock by Punk Core Records. This disc contained many of the bands I would worship over the next few years, drawing me closer and closer to the dingy, dirty, run-down dive bars that I would frequent throughout high school. The sampler contained a song by a band called The Unseen, who was a pretty straight-forward street punk band from Boston (sidenote: their bassist has since written a pretty entertaining book which you can check out here). A couple of months after starting my freshman year of high school in the autumn of 2003, this thing called the internet told me that The Unseen were coming to my town. They were playing at Newport Music Hall, a place I had never heard of, but would later go on to perform several times myself.

I worked up the courage to ask my parents if I could go to the freak fest, and sheepishly inquired if they had ever heard of the Newport Music Hall. Both parents laughed and reminisced that they had spent many a night there when they were younger, but seemed a little reserved at letting 14 year old me attend the show. We somehow worked it out that my mother would take me (so punk rock) and my best friend’s mother would attend as well. I checked out the lineup online, and the headlining band were Dropkick Murphy’s who I had heard of, and the opening band were called Roger Miret and the Disasters.

I had never heard of the opener before, but this was my first big chance to discover some new music so we arrived early. My mom and her accomplice each grabbed a beer, which was a sight I had only seen a few times in my entire life up until that point. Immediately the mood changed and I sensed that it was going to be a fun night. My friends and I went into the pit and tried to act like we belonged there as Roger Miret and the Disasters started and put on one hell of a show. They were high energy, catchy, and unlike any other punk band I had heard at that time.

After their set, my mother and I were hanging around the merch booths when an older gentleman approached me and complimented me on my The Clash back patch. I said thank you and the three of us sparked up a conversation about older bands and who were our favorites. I didn’t even realize it, but I was speaking to Roger Miret, the singer of the opening band (and for all of you hardcore kids out there, also THE VOCALIST OF AGNOSTIC FRONT). My mother and I spoke to Roger for a while and before I knew it he was giving me free stickers, patches and pins, and once he found out that I had a couple of friends with me, went back to his merch booth and gave us even more goodies. This absolutely blew my mind, as everybody around me had neck tattoos, leather jackets and mohawks, and to be honest, I was a little frightened. This bad-ass looking dude not only turned out to be a perfect gentleman, but left me feeling included and inspired to be a part of his community.

The Unseen played next and I had a wonderful time pogoing, skanking, circle pitting, and picking up my fallen brothers and sisters off the ground. It was everything I ever wanted and more, and cemented the idea that this is where I belonged. I would later go on to see The Unseen about a million times more and had some excellent conversations with their drummer Pat, who was yet another amazing dude willing to spend his time talking to a random teenage kid like me. The Dropkicks went on last, and as I’m sure you can imagine completely blew my mind. By the end of the night, I was on stage with the band and a bunch of fat, drunken, sweaty Irishmen singing songs arm in arm and having the time of my life. It was and will remain one of the most memorable nights of my adolescent years.

Exactly four years later, in October of 2007, I was playing drums in a hardcore band who had seen mild popularity playing around the Midwest and Canada. Our band was asked to be the openers for an all-day hardcore music festival, whose headliner would be Agnostic Front. Nostalgia hit me like a ton of bricks when I thought about how just four years earlier I was an awkward kid going to his first punk show and now had the opportunity to play with a band whose vocalist had a major impact on me. I loaded up my gear and hit the road for Dayton, OH where we were to go on around noon.

When my band played, there weren’t many people there, aside from a couple of other bands. We gave it our all and still had a wonderful time, and got to see a lot of other great bands throughout the day. Agnostic Front closed the night, and were really a sight to be seen. Everybody in the venue was going absolutely insane, moshing, singing along, and you could tell that this band meant a lot to everyone there. After the show ended, I had to make my way back toward Columbus and was unable to catch up with Mr. Miret that night. I doubt I would have had a chance anyway as he was the most popular man in the room, but I really felt like things had come full circle. I learned a valuable lesson about the relationship between artists and their fans, and remain grateful for what Mr. Miret taught me: don’t forget about the little people.