Phil Kinsley passed on January 3rd. Liver cancer. Most of Kansas City only knew him as the drummer for Arson Class, but even with that limited glimpse, his kindness and sincerity were obvious. Everyone who ever met him knew he was one of the good ones. When he passed, he left behind a wife and twin sons. A few months after his death, Kansas City gathered to send him off, and hopefully raise a bit of money for his family. A Night for Phil. Here's a quick remembrance of that remembrance.

The show started early, with Phase Distorter taking the stage at 7:30. The group's twenty-five-minute set of raucous punk rock was colored with grunge angst and disjointed noise rock. The quartet was not tight. It doesn't aim to be. It aims for lots of double bass, for backing vocals shouted at the audience, and for guitar solos that clash defiantly with the rhythm lines. Each time I see the band I make a different stab at its influences and trajectory. Each time I decide something different. This time I'll say Jesus Lizard is the blueprint.

Ten minutes later White Line Nightmares played. The drummer provided the introduction. The tribute to Phil. The denunciation of cancer and how it's affected so many of us. It was heartfelt and appreciated. Then he said the band was going to tear up the stage. It did. The quartet was the auditory equivalent of trucker speed. It was angry, intense, and a bit dangerous. It was also '90s garage rock revival played with tight precision and solid leads that slashed. The guitarists traded lead vocals, one more unhinged than the other. It was twenty-five-minutes of adrenaline played to send Phil off in style.

Deco Auto shifted the vibe again. The quartet is too pop for punk and too punk for pop. And it sounded great. Some of it landed as power pop. One unreleased number leaned Brit pop. Another was pure driving punk rock. Then there was a ballad. The vocals were split between a pogoing vocalist and the bandleader guitarist. The harmonies in "Turnaround" were perfect. The bass rattled. The drums matched the no-nonsense banter. New songs. Old songs. A couple that were skipped to ensure the night stayed on schedule.

The room hadn't filled up much. A few dozen fans and a few dozen band members were about it for the club. I knew most everyone there. I met many of them years ago when Phil began parking his trailer-cum-stage in front of Revolution Records for unpermitted First Fridays performances. Much of the night's lineup echoed those wonderful summer nights.

At 9:15 Sirens in the Suburbs took the stage. Here punk took a detour into hard rock. The frontman introduced a song called "Overdrive" stating it was about "fast cars and fast women." It also could have been about fast drummers, as the percussionist pushed the foursome forward throughout the set. The vocalist/guitarist was up for it though, matching his energy. A cover of Tom Petty's "Honey Bee" was confusing. The cover of "Kick Out the Jams" felt right at home. During the finale the frontman set down his guitar and roamed the stage. It was the highlight. Maybe two guitars aren't necessary. The leads never cut through the compositions, and the solos never got the spotlight they should have anyway. If White Line Nightmares were trucker speed, Sirens in the Suburbs were confidence-boosting '80s cocaine. And the lone dancer in the audience was flying.

It was nearly 10:00 when Chris Kinsley – Phil's brother and bandmate in Arson Class – took the stage. He's shy in the best of situations, so on this night he only shared how much Phil would have loved all the bands, and then thanked everyone for supporting Phil's family. It was an emotional night for Chris, but he held up well. Seeing Phil's kit with its Arson Class logo come out of storage to serve as the night's backline was a gut punch even to the most stolid of us. Recently Chris has started a new project called Fiasco. For this show, that group paid tribute to Phil in a set Chris dubbed "Arson Class by Fiasco." The result was familiar songs realized differently, creating a tribute without retreading on Phil's work. Excellent choice. The new quartet handled the original trio's anthemic punk rock built on sawing guitar, booming bass, driving drums, and plenty of backing whoa-oh-ohs well. The new vocalist was nervous at first, but quickly found her footing, looking exceptionally comfortable during the Fiasco tunes played at the end of the set. We'll revisit those in detail at later shows, but the differences in the projects were subtle. Fiasco appeared more chaotic. More energetic. And just more. But this chapter is just starting.

The Uncouth headlined the night, taking the stage just after 11:00. The crowd was worn out, but surprisingly it hadn't thinned much. The quartet rewarded that endurance with a twenty-five-minute set of hooky oi and street punk. The ten-song set included several new ones, a few older ones, and a handful of fan favorites from the last album. The cover of "Bonzo Goes to Bitburg" had the room bouncing. Unfortunately, while most of the night sounded wonderful, somehow things went slightly askew at the end. The bass was muddy. The lead guitar was tinny. The punch the band typically packed was softened. Thankfully there were still fists pumped for the gang's erstwhile closer – a cover of Cock Sparrer's "Because You're Young."

In the end, Phil's friends got together, played and enjoyed music, and remembered the man. It was a fitting celebration for one of the real ones, but I'm not sure much money was raised for his family. If you'd like to help support them, you can donate to Phil's wife Bobbie via PayPal at Bobbiej2@hotmail.com. Either way, be sure to tell your friends you love them, and fuck cancer.