Too Much Rock spends a lot of time cataloging and categorizing bands in a Sisyphean effort to apply logic to art. It's just the way my head is wired. As a result, I spend a lot of time creating silos for bands – what they are, what they aren't. It helps me contextualize and understand art, and without that framework I feel uneasy. I don't just do this for acts I see live, but those I plan to see as well. I like to know what to expect and to prepare my psyche appropriately. I didn't know what to expect at this show. I definitely wasn't prepared.

The Uncouth opened the night replacing new act Comité who couldn't make the gig. I'm not sure what happened to Comité but the change righted a wrong – The Uncouth belonged on the bill. The band is Oi!, but not the smash and grab variety. There's punk rock. There's harmony. There's composition. Its lyrics are smartly self-aware and yet still proudly traditional. There are the usual songs about being at the pub with your mates, and a fair number of aggressive warnings aimed at posers, but there are just as many about the little guy getting the shaft and fighting back. I've written about the foursome more than a dozen times, and I look forward to doing it another dozen. I'll assume you've been here before too, so I'll skip the exposition – besides reading this paragraph shouldn’t take longer than the twenty minutes the band was allotted. Knowing that it had only a short time to work with, the quartet played a belter of a seven-song set consisting mostly of its quick and surly songs. Bassist Steve Gardels barely spoke to the audience, and he's normally the chatty one. Lead guitarist CJ Wilson shouted, "Join a f*ckin' union," and not much else. Wilson shares lead vocals with fellow guitarist Cody Blanchard, and the two not only traded songs, but also verses throughout much of the set. During "Company Town Blues" the three players up front hit the harmonies (drummer Todd Rainey doesn't get a microphone). A surprise cover of "Anxiety" (originally by '80s Oi! act Criminal Damage) in the middle of the set made room for current video single "Adam's Got a Boxcutter" to become the closer. Short, simple, strong. If you've not already done so, the band's entire catalog is superb, so start anywhere.

As the show got underway, I realized that the night was going to be a bit like a carton of Neapolitan ice cream. I won't assign a flavor to the first three acts or their fanbases, but they were each distinct. During the first break I watched as the dapper skins and casuals that came for opener gave way to a DIY punk and gutter punk crowd primed for the next act.

Desire Path is a mystery to anyone not a part of its scene, and I suspect its members like it that way. I know that they declined to answer my questions about the project, anyway. Other than knowing it used to be called OTS-38, and that it had just released a seven-song demo the day before, I must confess I knew nothing about the act. After one show I knew slightly more. The foursome was configured the standard way (vocals, guitar, bass, drums), creating songs that drifted between punk, post-punk, death rock, and goth. The bass held most of the focus, providing both melody and a nearly danceable beat. The drums were heavy and worked well with the bass, but the guitar seldom cut through their din. When it did, it mostly churned and roiled and shifted and swelled in ways both forceful and organic. The guitar player's tone was great. The lyrics were sung at the edge of a scream. The vocalist danced on the stage as well as throwing themself into the pit. Punks joined them, moving side-to-side, rolling, crashing, and doing the worm. Most of the band wore protective surgical masks, signaling their consideration for others. So, when the vocalist introduced the act's final number by saying, "This is a cover by a f*cked up man. Hate me," it was a shock. I like a group that can be both caring and rip through (GG Allin &) The Jabber's "Don't Talk to Me," so you know that I was singing along. GG Allin cover aside, this sort of darkened DIY punk act pops up in Kansas City from time to time (think Nitecrawlers or Dated), but never lasts long. I suggest downloading Desire Path's new release from Bandcamp and, if you dig it, catch the act live before it's too late.

As Farewell prepared to scoop the next flavor in the carton, the punks handed the pit over to the hardcore crew who came ready to do sport. There were more of the former than the latter, providing momentary breathing room in the crowded club. However, the danger of being walloped increased dramatically.

Some bands are hard to pin down to a single style or scene, Stakes is High is not one of those bands. Stakes Is High is Hardcore. The project started a year ago as Make No Mistake, playing the flavor of youth crew hardcore that flourished in the very late '80s and early '90s – say the era between Youth of Today and Earth Crisis. There's no hint of emo. No death growls. Just hardcore. The group is fronted by barker Taylor Paredes. He paced the stage with intention, holding his microphone high enough to reveal a big X tattooed on his muscular arm. Guitarist David Chavez, bassist Max Vantilburg, and drummer Daniel Schnetz were behind him. The quartet ripped through a short twelve-minute set that contained nearly as many songs. That pace didn't leave me much time to dissect the band's compositions, but I do remember Chavez delivering a very tasty and very horsey divebomb in one song. Shockingly there were no stereotypical sermons between songs, instead, Parades only offered, "Like CJ [Wilson of The Uncouth] said, join a union." The pit opened wide for the dancers allowing much change to be picked up and for many roundhouse kicks to defeat invisible ninjas. Stakes is High currently has a three-song demo on Bandcamp and is gigging regularly so I expect to see you windmilling in the pit with me soon. By reading this you've legally joined the crew.

By 9:30 the sign had gone up on the door: "One In, One Out." Everyone that had been on the patio or hanging out in front of the building reclaimed their spot, and the room felt like a sellout again. The hardcore kids in their athletic wear were now jammed between punks in dirty work overalls and skinheads donning pressed Ben Shermans. All three flavors of our ice cream had melted together in anticipation for the headliner.

Rixe is a three-piece Oi! project from Paris. Its members have been around for years, play in a ton of different groups, and don't seem much interested in social media or stepping outside of their scene. Yet somehow, the band is selling out shows in the middle of America. The Oi! revival is real, folks. The trio lines up as guitarist Thomas Gohin, bassist Victor Lapprend, and drummer Maxime Smadja. All three shout vocals, sometimes solo, sometimes on top of each other as if they were attempting to intimidate the opposing keeper from a rowdy terrace. Who are ya? Who are ya? Rixe's Oi! is raw and punk, recalling the genre's early '80s roots. While its records often utilize an icy drum machine further returning to that specific point in time, live, Smadja beat the drums. There's probably a name for the simple 1-2 1-2 1-2 pattern that quickly alternates between snare and kick, but I don't know what it's called. I know the bass helped push it along and the guitar layered on top, often delivering sharp riffs steeped with garage rock swagger. The result was raw and primal – and it was catnip for the audience. There were a few who tried to go side-to-side and a number that pogoed throughout, there was a push pit that sent bodies tumbling, and there were a handful of crowd surfers, including one who jumped from a speaker stack, sending one of the mains tumbling to the stage floor. Fists were pumped from the front of the stage all the way to the back of the packed room. The audience seemed to know many of the songs' French lyrics, much to the band's surprise.

I stayed glued to the wall during the headliner's remarkably short half-hour set; consequently, I didn't get any good photos or video for Too Much Rock. Honestly, I didn't even get a good view of the stage. I wasn't prepared for that. I did, however, get to see three distinct tribes all celebrating Rixe from one messy and unexpected puddle. I don't know what flavor they made, but I was able to enjoy it all the same. Baby steps.