Did you know that October is the busy season for venues? I didn’t. But that must be why I’m so behind. Eight shows in fourteen days – that's Too Much Rock indeed. Midway through this run of excess I made my first visit to the new Kansas City incarnation of Sk8bar. Soon I’ll figure out the proper way to feature the much-needed Westport punk venue, but until then, let’s just dive into the show.

The Bad Ideas were first up, taking the stage at 8:00 punk time or 8:20 civilian time. The long-standing band was once a mainstay on stages like these, but after the unexpected death of co-founder and guitarist Britt Adair in May of 2023, there have only been a handful of gigs. When things couldn’t get worse, they did. Vocalist Breaka Dawn injured her voice, forcing several cancellations and further slowing the act’s return. This show was her first time back on stage in months and she looked tentative, explaining to me she was putting her hope in a vocal processing pedal that she didn’t fully understand or believe in. In the end, there was no reason to worry – Dawn’s voice sounded good as she screamed and shrieked her lyrics. They’re lyrics that have always read like a list of grievances targeted at everyone from lecherous dudes to insurance providers to politicians. If her voice was doubled or otherwise bolstered by the pedal, I didn’t hear it. Bassist Matt Roberts provided a lot of the banter but from my position (or maybe the position of my earplugs), it was mumbled and lost. His aggressive bass playing was loud and clear, though. Journeyman guitarist Mike Alexander has filled in for Adair since her passing. I suspect he’s an official member now. When he first took the role, he played full of rage and pain, but on this night, he appeared to be having fun. He smiled a lot, and somehow the smile changed his playing. Alexander didn’t saw at his guitar precisely as Adair did, and the difference provided an unexpected bounce. I swore bits of Jawbreaker somehow permeated the foursome’s usual cover of Blatz’s "Fuk Shit Up." Personnel aside, the short twenty-minute set didn’t differ much from any performed two or three years ago. I don’t believe the quartet played any new songs, but with the band now seeming more like an ongoing concern, I’d expect to hear them soon. And I look forward to that.

Between sets I roamed the club. The space is bigger than I expected, with a capacity of something like 225. The low, corner stage allows good sightlines from much of the room, the PA and monitors are ample, the sound deadening panels keep the echo at bay, and the lights are passable. Sk8bar is one open room without cubbies or nooks, but those who are overstimulated will find seats away from the stage by the front door. Those who are under-stimulated will find pinball machines. It’s more of a live music club than a dive bar – especially now as the club has not yet been granted its liquor license from the city. Until then patrons amuse themselves with soda pop, kombucha, and a host of mysterious CBD-infused beverages. For the sake of the club’s bottom line, that situation should be remedied shortly. I got a bottle of water from the twelve- or fifteen-stooled bar and then returned to the edge of the stage.

The D-Fibs continued the rumble at 9:00. The punk foursome is only a few years into its run yet features players decades (and decades) into their careers. And that’s often the schtick worked by the band. Many of its songs are cautionary tales about aging and failing bodies. When multicolored pool noodles were dumped into the pit (soon becoming low-impact weapons), frontman Tim Nord, acting as the scene’s Midwestern dad, warned the audience to be careful not to put an eye out. It wasn’t long before he ignored his own advice, bending one in a show of strength. Evidently, he was feeling it. Throughout the half-hour set he punched and kicked at the air and even ducked into the friendly pit once. He roared his vocals during theme song "Old Man Strong." I’m telling you, the man came loaded for bear. Around him the guitar of Paddy Sargent buzzed in tandem with the rhythm section of Patrick Brown (bass) and Jon Cagle (drums). The trio insisted on pushing the tempo to a level dangerous for middle-aged bodies. The band’s twelve-song contained no surprises, though it is now mostly unreleased tracks that have already become sing-along favorites. A vinyl full-length can’t be far behind. I hope it comes in high viz colors and features large-print type.

Sk8bar recently moved to Kansas City from Saint Joseph, Missouri. In Saint Jo it was situated downtown on the cute (but struggling) main drag, where it slung both beer and live punk rock. It also sold skateboards – maybe you got that from its name. I only made it up there for one show, but it was well attended. Touring acts told me the turnout was hit and miss, but they were always quick to sing the praises of the spot. It earned its regulars – both patrons and bands. One such believer is legendary skater Mike Vallely. He frequently brought his musical projects to Sk8bar. I suspect the combination of a punk venue and a skate shop was his catnip. While the regular patrons are unlikely to make the hour drive down to the new location, Mike Vallely remains dedicated.

Mike Vallely is a punk. Sure, he’s an internationally known street skating pioneer, but throughout his career he never left the punk scene. Through circumstances too convoluted to print, in 2013 he found himself as the (fifth and) current lead singer of seminal LA punk band Black Flag. For some, that’s a dubious achievement, but for Vallely it seems like a natural match. His current project, Complete Disaster, was formed under similar happenstance – the right place, the right time, a common love of punk rock infused with bits of the blues. The foursome features Vallely on vocals, alongside Eli Clark (guitar), Wade Thompson (bass), and Paul Thompson (drums). Together the quartet played a long fifty-minute set that chugged aggressively on top of a hard rock rhythm section, lost itself in meandering breakdowns, and featured guitar solos that only stopped to allow other nested guitar solos to cut in. Vallely stayed center stage, hanging on the microphone, shouting or cooing his vocals as the song required. He had energy and looked good. The fraternal rhythm section chimed in with gang vocals for the choruses. Clark leaned back into his solos, feeling every bent note. The band closed with Black Flag classic "Rise Above" which got the crowd in the pit moving enough that parents pulled their kids back to safety. It was the hands-down highlight.

Sk8bar billed the show as a Halloween costume contest. My money was on an Angus Young replete with custom devil horns protruding from her ball cap, but as usual I was wrong. There were a lot of skeleton costumes. A few hardcore girls wore next to nothing. I borrowed a switchblade (to cut the cord on my emergency ear plugs) from a girl who was wearing not much more than a bra. I didn’t see where she pulled it from, and that’s probably the point. When I saw Uncouth bassist Steve Gardels step on stage in full Aqua Bats regalia, I knew the contest was won.

The Uncouth took the stage at 11pm as the night was beginning to die down. It’s hard to keep a sober crowd of adults captive through four bands even when one of the acts isn’t polarizing. Sensing that a tipping point was near, the foursome set up quickly and launched immediately into "Just a Matter of Time." The audience came streaming back inside. I suspect that after a decade of touring, the group has learned to read a room. If the crowd is tired, catch them before they scatter, and then hold them with a short, high-energy set. Ten songs were selected for the job, while an eleventh was demanded by the crowd. The act is nominally oi. And while the quartet doesn’t hide from that once-divisive label, drummer Todd Rainey insists the Uncouth is actually just rock ‘n’ roll. For the first few songs I considered his assertion. Three-part harmonies and twinned guitar leads don’t usually show up in oi. But then the band offered a Criminal Damage cover. Lead guitarist CJ Wilson barked out the lyrics to the deep cut while vocalist/guitarist Cody Blanchard joined him for the choruses. This is oi. Aggro songs like "Adam’s Got a Boxcutter" and "Writings on the Wall" stood next to calls for working class solidarity in "Company Town Blues" and "Ring the Bell." During the latter a stranger put his arm around me and sang the chorus into my ear. I returned the favor during "Same Old Story." And that eleventh song? The audience refused to leave before it heard the Uncouth's signature cover of Cock Sparrer’s "Because You're Young." That one had everyone at Sk8bar singing.