This gig was apparently a sort of homecoming for Fucked Up, who played their first US show in Cleveland and have strong ties to the local scene. I learned all about it at the show. They took regular breaks for shout-outs to local legends like Tony Erba (H-100s, 9 Shocks Terror, et al.) and high-fives for old-school Fuck-heads like Tall Rob. There was a feeling of gathering around the campfire, as vocalist Damian Abraham told stories about the old days, joked with his old buddies from the stage, and competed with drummer Jonah Falco to see who could list the most Cleveland hardcore bands.

Built in 1950, the Beachland Ballroom used to be the Croation Liberty Home, and it appears the rock promoter agreed to leave the decor unchanged. There are strange, pastoral paintings and hideous wallpaper. Being an old building, the power grid probably needs upgrading, so there are very few lights pointing at the stage. It was dark, but not dingy, like seeing a show in your grandmother’s basement. And the sound mix was awful. If you stood too close you couldn’t hear any vocals; if you stood to the side, the band faded to the background. So I can’t quite say that the band sounded great. But if you stood in exactly the right spot (near the back in front of the sound board), you could tell what they were aiming for.

Luckily, there was no question the band was shredding. As much as they shrug off the idea in their interview FAQ (required reading if you’re going to talk to the band), they really are stretching the boundaries of punk and hardcore. The consistently compelling interplay amongst the three guitars is the key to the band’s best work, even as Damian keeps them grounded with his growling, shouting, and sweating stage presence. He was, as usual, completely off the chain, wading as far from the stage as his mic cord allowed, sharing said mic with anyone who wanted it, and making it his mission to hug everyone who came near him. The pit was plenty active and angry all night, but I’ve never seen so many happy, affectionate embraces at any sort of live show.

Not even a third of the setlist came from Glass Boys, their most recent LP, but the title cut was definitely one of the highlights of the night. It’s a song built on momentum, and in-person it was a train chugging relentlessly towards a cliff. The rest of the set was a like a fan-made mix of bangers from their better-known recent LPs, as well as early singles like “Circling the Drain,” “I Hate Summer,” and the classic, mosh-baiting anthem “Police.” Even Tall Rob was impressed by the setlist.

All this added up to a show that felt surprisingly personal. This band is on the Billboard charts; they’ve toured with Foo Fighters; they’ve been on the cover of SPIN; but there we were in this tiny, one-third-filled Cleveland landmark, and it felt like we were in on a fantastic secret, part of a scene. Once a band “makes it,” that feeling usually goes away, but on this rare evening Fucked Up kept the campfire burning.