When most people think about hardcore punk, they tend to think of hate, screaming, and violence. Many are too scared to step foot near a venue holding a show of that genre for fear of the fans going to the show, and many are too scared to even talk to the people standing outside. The volume is too much for some, the language may be too vulgar, but they’re all missing a vital part of hardcore’s message. Hardcore is for the people, by the people, no matter who you are or where you come from.
I feel like there isn’t a hardcore band today that captures that message quite like Turnstile. Forming in 2010 in Baltimore, MD, the group quickly took over the Baltimore punk scene and toured the East Coast constantly for nearly a decade before finding mainstream success.
In 2021, the group released “GLOW ON,” their third album, to critical and fan praise. This album, while it wasn’t their first to do well critically, was the moment when the group started to be recognized nationally and globally.
This was around the time that I started to really get into the genre, as the recent lift of COVID-19 bans and becoming a teenager meant that going to shows was much easier for me. I had been listening to Turnstile since 2018, but “GLOW ON” made Turnstile quickly become one of my first favorite hardcore bands. Their music pushed me into the world of punk music beyond the mainstream emo music I grew up with. Similar bands like Speed and Mannequin Pussy (both of whom are currently opening for Turnstile’s fall “NEVER ENOUGH” tour) became all that I listened to in high school.
I eventually got to see Turnstile open for Blink-182 in July of 2023, and while their set was short, it was worth the ticket price. There was one thing missing from my experience, though. I had stadium seats, but all I wanted to do was mosh.
For those who don’t know, moshing is a type of dancing that is extremely popular at punk and metal shows. It may look violent to the naked eye, but the thrashing and kicking is honestly pretty safe. If you know how to do it right! Most bands say this at the beginning of their shows, but it’s a common rule that if someone falls down, you pick them up, and you keep your eyes open at all times.
When I started moshing and going to shows like this, I was stupid and fell a lot. I wasn’t used to the style of dancing, a lot of people were bigger or more intimidating than me, and I was scared most of the time. I would hide behind the people on the front lines of the mosh pit or I would stand all the way in the back, often missing out on a lot of the fun. When I saw Turnstile for the first time, that changed.
I wasn’t close to the pit, but the show felt different. The band was made up of all different types of people, and the people who went to see them were more diverse than I had ever seen in my local scene. It felt loving, it felt accepting, it felt different.
When Turnstile announced their 2025 tour in support of their new album, “NEVER ENOUGH,” I had tickets by the time the presale was five minutes in. I knew I had to experience a show like that up close and personal.
The supporting acts at the Philadelphia show this past weekend, which was the hometown show for three of the four acts, were a great fit to the band’s message and identity. Two of those three bands, Mannequin Pussy and Jane Remover, were fronted by women, and every band on the bill had performers of color. It’s a sad thing to say, but that type of inclusivity is hard to come by in the hardcore scene, especially locally.
The audience, too, was so diverse. I saw guests from the ages of three or four to late 60s and early 70s walk through the gates of the venue. It filled me with so much pride to know that punk music is flowing through all generations. The sense of community that a band like Turnstile teaches kids is so important, especially in today’s world, where there is a lack of in-person communities due to the internet.
The moment that made me glow with pride, however, was the moment I saw a young girl, maybe eight or nine, standing on the fringe of the mosh pit with her parents. I could tell she was really eager to go in, so I went up, took her by the hand, and led her to the edge of the pit. I taught her how to two-step, a style of dancing that is basically just kicking rhythmically to the music. It made me so happy to see her want to learn how to mosh, since I remember being that kid.
I remember being young and going to the shows and feeling left out. I always got so excited when someone would dance with me, even though I was a “dumb little kid” to most people there. The first time something like that happened, I went home and told my mom all about it for hours. I never forgot that moment, even nearly eight years later. That’s what hardcore does. That’s what Turnstile does. It makes us feel a little bit safer and a little less alone.
