Three ‘black belts in rock ‘n roll,’ four miles apart at recordBar and The Rino

March 27, 2024

Andrew Dodderidge,

’68. // photo by Andrew Dodderidge

As I got home Saturday night, I immediately watched this video of Dan Smith—of the now KC-based indie rock group Listener—singing a song about grief outside a restaurant. It brought tears to my eyes. Just an hour before this moment, Smith, who was standing ten feet from my left, directly to the left of the stage at The Rino, got motioned towards the microphone by ‘68’s Josh Scogin, followed by a voice in the crowd that yelled, “Come on, Dan!” The rest is history.

Smith—now 45 and on the longest hiatus of his career thus far, and who I assume was somebody that was just attending the show—is someone that I, personally—and I’m sure several others—have forgotten about in the underground rock ‘n roll scene. But he managed to bring an already raucous sold-out crowd to another level, beginning the largest mosh pit of the night. I cannot begin to think of a comparable audience reaction to a surprise turn in the middle of a show before.

.@thedancemyth of Listener fame crashed @theyare68’s earth-shattering midnight explosion last night at @TheRinoKC. Was able to obtain a brief recording of the remnants.@callousdaoboys @thejoshscogin pic.twitter.com/hE56Ip4Cuu

— Andrew Dodderidge (@yooooooooRIPPSH) March 24, 2024

Maybe this entire ordeal stuck with me the most because this article was supposed to be entirely about something else. This was supposed to be about doing the unthinkable, doing it all. There have been so many times in the past where I have had to skip out on a band that I really wanted to see in favor of another show I wanted to go to more. I came to the conclusion that those days are over.

‘68 and The Callous Daoboys announced their current tour on January 3 through a hilarious Twitter exchange, with both groups going back-and-forth in quirky email fashion to set up the pairing. ‘68 had headlined a KC/Lawrence show two times before—The Riot Room in ‘17, Jackpot in ‘15—while Callous had only played a small set at Encore Room last year. Then, just nine days later, NYC-based indie rockers Wild Pink strung together a co-headlining tour with the dream pop group Sun June, where KC’s recordBar was the fourth date on the spring outing. Wild previously played a house show in 2021 on a day off while touring with Rat Boys that fall, but had yet to put their name into KC venue lore just yet.

So naturally, I went from wanting to cover ‘68/Callous, to then wanting to do Wild Pink, then getting a ‘68/Callous response from our music editor, to then crafting the idea to cover both. Here was the plan:

7 p.m. The Callous Daoboys interview (The Rino)
8 p.m. Beginning of Wild Pink (recordBar)
8:35 p.m. Leave for The Rino
9 p.m. End of The Callous Daoboys (The Rino)
9:45 p.m. ‘68 (The Rino)

I received an email from a member of the Callous gang that they were late getting to the venue with barely enough time to get everything ready for themselves, let alone conduct an interview. Psychologically, my headspace went from Glenn Howerton’s “I’m doing it all” character in last year’s BlackBerry, to Tom Cruise’s sociopathic turn in ‘04’s Collateral, where he references Darwin when describing how to roll with the punches and adapt throughout the night.

And then I got to recordBar around 7:50 p.m. with a bit of a mix-up.

Sun June. // photo by Andrew Dodderidge

I got informed that Wild Pink was going first, an 8-9 p.m. timeframe, while Sun June finished out the night from 9:15-10:15 p.m. But it was flipped. The solution? Take some brief photos and hit it for The Rino to catch the beginning of The Callous Daoboys at 8:40. When we got to The Rino—A clever little nook in the wall located a block from Screenland Armour theatre in North KC—it was clear to me this was about as interesting a decision as I once thought.

The vibes from a very shallow, sparse and older crowd for quieter and more intimate performances at recordBar downtown were flipped for sheer and utter chaos at the sold-out NKC rectangle.

I had never been to The Rino before, all my years of making my rounds in the area. First impression: small and loud. Very hard to make your way down the left corridor into the second room to look at merch and buy drinks. But certainly memorable, from the tightness of the large crowd to the vintage bar next door, complete with a marker-written menu on bathroom tile, similar to the chalkboard setup at Screenland close by.

The Callous Daoboys. // photo by Andrew Dodderidge

Callous came out of the gates gunning with “Pushing the Pink Envelope,” along with “Waco Jesus” and “Star Baby”—their two latest hits from their 2023 EP God Smiles Upon the Callous Daoboys, plus the band’s biggest song to-date. Having seven members does not benefit a tiny stage, but the closeness to the action definitely heightens the collectiveness of the band as a whole.

I’ve heard my fair share of negative reactions toward Callous in a live setting, but my lord were they on. Vocalist Carson Pace was as far away from phoning it in as possible, even handing the mic to someone in the front row at one point and feeding off that energy as a result. Everyone had their part to play and their time to shine, specifically violinist Amber Christman and guitarist Daniel Hodsdon during jolting moments.

After ripping through Celebrity Therapist opener “Violent Astrology,” I ran to my car to drive back downtown, 9:05 p.m. on the dot.

Wild Pink. // photo by Andrew Dodderidge

The Division 1 NCAA Wrestling Championships taking place at the T-Mobile Center did not help the parking situation one bit, but managing to find a spot off 18th and McGee, I sprinted my way over to Grand to hopefully make it in before Wild Pink began.

John Ross and co. were mid-song upon arrival, and the crowd remained as sparse as it was an hour ago, with clumps of people in certain areas, wide open spaces in others. It reminded me of the crowd for Holy Fawn openers Caracara last October.

The differentiation between these two shows is the most important part of remembering the night. One was sold-out, the other would have benefitted from another act, or a smaller venue. In fact, each could’ve flipped venues and it would’ve made more sense number-wise. But The Rino fits with the mathcore/noise rock culture, and recordBar’s neatness made for dream pop/Americana bliss.

Do the bigger crowd and the louder moments create a better show? The ultimate question. I have always been one to rank things, decide what is better than what. I ranked every show I went to last year. I rank every movie I see every year. That’s just how my brain works.

But does it really matter? The atmosphere inside recordBar was perfect and the atmosphere inside The Rino was perfect. Going from one to the other was a jolt to the system—I was recovering from a near heart attack after my full-on sprint and the ear-ringing nature of Callous minutes before—and it kind of felt like I was on a different planet while Ross was making his way through the chilling “Yolk in the Fur,” but everything in retrospect reminds me why music is so great.

Every time I ask a person what type of music they like, I am always met with “a little bit of everything.” Sure, cop out answer. But really, there’s truth in that. We go to different places for different feelings, music is more than just one thing. And this night represented that almost perfectly.

Ross’ Audiotree performance was a gateway for me to appreciating their album ILYSM, and making my way through the rest of their discography. The moments from that video were on full display that night, with the 150-person attendance creating a more personal connection to the music as a whole.

The band weaved through some new material along the way, definitely playing “St. Catherine St.” and possibly “Eating the Egg Whole”—two unreleased tracks—while covering a collection of hits from Yolk in the Fur, A Billion Little Lights and ILYSM. When speaking with Ross on Friday, he mentioned the next record will break away from the more dour lyrical moments from ILYSM, so it made sense to hear a good portion of those cuts, along with the more uplifting tunes from the ‘22 record, like “See You Better Now” and “Simple Glyphs.”

The family atmosphere continued directly at the conclusion, with fans approaching Ross on the stage and by the bar, followed by quiet conversation by the merch table. When I asked him about the name of his new EP, Strawberry Eraser, that released last Thursday, he didn’t know why he titled it that. And after a brief explanation of a book he read, he just said it made sense to him. A sign of a true artist.

I shared my gratitude for speaking to Ross the day before, then ran to my car to head back to NKC at 10:05 p.m.

’68. // photo by Andrew Dodderidge

If you know, you know, but there is a left-turn signal off Truman heading north to Locust that simply does not work. I waited long enough, both times, before running it twice.

Arriving on Armour, I could hear Scogin from the streets. If you’ve ever seen ‘68 before, you definitely understand the excited feeling of getting to see ‘68 at a small, body-upon-body venue like this. And they delivered.

I don’t really listen to ‘68. I saw them perform at Warped Tour (RIP) in Bonner Springs back in 2015 to a crowd of around 50 people. Standing alone with no one around me, I just knew these guys had it. Another solo guy in front of me started moshing alone to the screaming, the riffs, the loud-as-fuck drums. A hole-in-the-wall moment for constructing my music memories in my youth.

But this night was the complete opposite. I stood a couple feet away from Scogin and drummer Nikko Yamada, as well as hundreds of others. You don’t need to listen to ‘68 to appreciate them. You don’t need to prepare to see ‘68 by checking them out on Spotify, but you should sometime. Going in blind may be your best bet for the greatest time of your life.

Scogin and Yamada pulled out all the stops, initially telling the audience that they were “third degree black belts in rock ‘n roll” and that everybody had “only one clap between songs.” The demand was quickly forgotten by the masses that wanted to show their appreciation for true jam/noise rock.

Scogin made comments throughout the night about AI eventually taking over the world and showing his gratitude for everybody coming out to see “real humans do real things,” sometimes proceeding to play a guitar riff that repeated in different tones a few times. Definitely a little tongue-in-cheek.

There was a dramatic intermission. Scogin let a woman in the front row hold his guitar while he left the stage during an epic Yamada drum solo for about five minutes. And after grabbing it back, you could tell the woman had a story she would tell for a while.

It’s clear that their performance is very calculated. They play it off like they’re just improvising the whole night, and there is certainly some of that, but there is without a doubt some premeditated, big arena type stuff going on here. But the even mix of calculated and letting the present be the present is what is refreshing the most. This is a band that you tell people to put on their bucket list.

And then there was Dan Smith.

The time passed 11 p.m., a big no-no for me. Thinking the guys were on the last cut, I was ready to pack it in. But this random guy comes on stage and does what I mentioned in the beginning. It took me a minute to place him. He’s much older now, almost unrecognizable from his glory years. But the switch that got flipped after his entrance is the exact reason I do this. Members of The Callous Daoboys came up to see the ruckus, grins on their faces. I had a grin on mine the whole night.

I was recently very critical of concerts for poor setup, lack of public self-awareness from its audience, and late end times, but I take everything back. Life is fucking fun.

Excuse me, I’m going to go watch Listener play this AudioTree session while I remember what great things this world can bring night after dark.

All photos by Andrew Dodderidge