Pissin' at the Rox: Old War relieve themselves of mythical recordings

In June of last year, I was in Atlanta covering the Poison at the Stadium festival. By the time Old War took the stage, Machine Gun Kelly had driven me to drinking heavily. I was off duty now. I'd been looking forward to the Old War show, and the first thumps of By the Numbers hit like the first sweet drag of a cigarette after a long days' work. 

From my left, a smiling man offered a chillum (which I gratefully accepted) and yelled in a distinctly northeastern accent: "I saw these guys at the Rox in '21!"  I didn't believe him, but I was thrilled to hear it. 

If you've followed the Old War juggernaut or been to any of their singular arena shows - whether in Europe, North America, or the infamous Rio stadium event - chances are you've met thousands of folks who claim to have seen them perform live at the RC. In reality, of course, only a few hundred souls have ever been rattled in that tiny space, over the course of a handful of impromptu shows, spanning just under a decade. 

The tall tale is so commonly repeated that the phrase "I was at the Rox in '21" has become something of a sardonic tagline for the group, who never intended for the quasi-private shows to become so mythologized. As a group, OW hasn't made a habit of leaning on legend and propping themselves up on shadowy rumors. Perhaps part of the intent behind releasing Pissin' at the Rox is to pop the growing bubble of mysticism and let the legend lie. There's no longer any need to peep the smattering of leaked videos - Old War is whipping it out, so everyone can finally get a good look. 

The nacense of the legend of the RC recordings sprung from other, similarly tiny underground venues in the 2010s. Whispers began to make the rounds in Chicago that there was a rock group in town who could work a small audience into a strange state somewhere between frenzy and reverie. 

Obviously, the sound was powerful enough to make the leap to mass appeal - but the word on the street has always been that the true power of Old War only reveals itself in the most intimate of settings. Now, finally, we can all get an idea of what it was like to be there. 

And you can feel it. The brothers Naf seem to reach a deeper level of grit in Pyromancer, and the audience almost seems to be in cahoots. Wonderfully familair are Sacamano and Ed Diaz’s jaunt through Y Se?, but the nearly-claustrophobic containment of the sound is downright comforting in a raw, violent sort of way. Given the few leaked video snippets of the space, the production on these recordings is astounding. "Clean" isn't the word, nor the goal, but what by all rights should be a cacophonous mess is somehow presented with just as much clarity as can be tolerated from a group that lives to keep it dirty. 

As Fart in a Phone Booth tumbles in, the trance state is immersive. Kevin and Peter produce a richness like velvet with the texture of course gravel. The small crowd, eager participants at the outset, seem captive. No one leaves now. 

And then, lurking where you'd least expect them: a couple of classic rock covers. Hearing The Boys are Back in Town feels almost voyeuristic. These paragons of 21st century rock - these giants of fuck-you artistic audacity and piss-off talent - are simply having fun. We weren't meant to hear this. Most of us don't deserve it. The entirety of Pissin’ at the Rox represents a brief glimpse into a world to which we are not invited, but the cover feels like peeking behind a still more interior curtain, and the good times are almost painfully palpable. 
You weren't there, and you never will be. But you should know that it was something else, and now you can catch a whiff. If Pissin' doesn't turn you on, check yourself into the loony bin. And check out Machine Gun Kelly…

Alan Rich, Creem 2023