I’ve been hitting a lot of live shows lately, and here’s what I learned: you don’t always have to fight for the front-row spot. For as long as I can remember, I believed the ideal place at any performance was right up front. The ticket price even tells you that. Maybe it makes sense at giant arena shows, but when you’re in a small venue—where every view is good—I’ve realized you’re better off backing up a bit.
For one thing, being right against the stage often means you’re too close to get the best sound. In most venues, the sweet spot is near the soundboard—the people controlling the mix are there because it’s ideal acoustically.
But there’s something stranger at play. We seem addicted to proximity—the closer we can claim to something, the more real it feels. Whether it’s a band, a celebrity, or a tragedy, people rush to say, “I was there,” or “I knew them.” It’s as if closeness is proof of existence. Maybe that’s why we press against the stage—we’re trying to prove we were part of it.
For me, it’s just hour-long claustrophobia: sweating, jostling, hearing the drummer’s kick in your ribs. That’s why when I saw Guerilla Toss at Johnny Brenda’s, I didn’t mind hanging out in the balcony for the first two acts, then finding a comfy floor spot (standing-room only, mind you) for the main event.
I was recently introduced to Guerilla Toss (they cut their teeth in Boston but are now based in New York) when a friend sent me their new album You’re Weird Now on Apple Music. It is full of energy and just plain fun. So I did the thing: went online, saw they were playing in Philly at Johnny Brenda’s, bought a ticket, and roped in my friend Jake to tag along.
Johnny Brenda’s is a Philly institution: bar downstairs, stage upstairs. When you climb the narrow steps, the merch table greets you right away. There’s a small bar to the right, and the stage opens up beyond it. There’s a balcony that wraps around the room, perfect if you can snag a chair. We weren’t that lucky, so we hung back, watched the openers from above, and waited for Guerilla Toss to take the stage.
First up was Special World, the project of Philly’s Andy Molholt (Speedy Ortiz, Eric Slick, Laser Background). Their songs aim high—complex, melodic, a little slippery. They’re the kind of band that’s reaching for something just beyond their current grasp, which is a good place to be. Keep an eye out for them. They ended their set with the singer shouting, “Fuck ICE, Free Palestine, and Go Birds!” I had to laugh. So Philly.
Next came Godcaster, from New York. I’d previewed their tracks on Apple Music and wasn’t sold. They didn’t sell me live either. Plus, the singer’s habit of ending every song with a shouted “CHAAA!” wore thin fast. Their best moment was the finale—a surprisingly earnest cover of Sinatra’s “My Way,” with keyboardist Jan Fontana switching to flute. It was moving and perfect.
Then came Guerilla Toss. Jake and I dropped downstairs, I bought their vinyl at the merch table, and we found our spot. They opened with “Krystal Ball,” the first track on You’re Weird Now. The frontwoman, Kassie Carlson, is a force—a powerful vocal, commanding presence. Guerilla Toss started in Boston back in 2011/12 and over time they’ve morphed from noise-rock/no-wave into a dance-punk/art-rock hybrid with mind-bending hooks and weird time signatures. It’s a big shift—early fans of the band’s chaotic roots might’ve been taken aback by their new groove-laden style, but for me it worked.
Behind the band, psychedelic visuals splashed across twin screens, and during “Life’s a Zoo,” they projected the actual music video while playing live. The effect was hypnotic—a swirl of color and sound that made the tiny room feel like a different dimension.
So here’s the takeaway: if you get the chance to see Guerilla Toss live, do it. And don’t stress the front rail. Unless you enjoy bruised ribs and someone else’s beer in your hair, find your sweet spot instead—somewhere you can breathe, hear every note, and still feel like part of it.
Take it easy,
James