The Legend of Napalm Death

Thursday night in Vegas. The neon was humming, but I was tuned out. I was standing in line to snag my media pass for Spike and the Me Gimmes, AirPods in, volume up, completely sealed off from the noise of the strip.

I was in my own world, jamming out, oblivious to the guys in line next to me. They were laughing, gesturing, and apparently cracking jokes at my expense, but I missed every word.

Once I got inside and the AirPods came out, a gentleman walked up to me with a knowing grin. He introduced himself as Art from the Punk Rock Museum. "I’m dubbing you 'Napalm Death,'" he said.

I laughed, realizing I’d missed some serious shit-talking while I was zoned out in line. I guess looking like a metal frontman wearing a ND shirt while in a sea of punks has its consequences. But the nickname stuck, and as the night progressed, I ran into Art again. This time, the jokes turned into an invitation.

"Can you make time to come by the Museum?" he asked. "SNFU is playing the Jam Room at 3:30."

I didn’t hesitate. I managed to slide away from work, gear in hand, and headed straight for the Punk Rock Museum.

It turned into one of those adventures you can't script. I wasn't just shooting a band; I was hanging out, following the tour, and soaking up the oral history of the scene. I listened to raw, gritty stories about Bad Brains and Minor Threat tales of chaos and glory, like the time they danced on stage in puke at the Palladium.

When we got to the Jam Room (Pennywise Garage), the vibe shifted. The place was packed with everyone from all age groups, just taking in what was going on. You could tell immediately who knew what was up there was this shared understanding in the air. I wasn't fluent in the lyrics myself, but honestly, it didn't matter. With everyone singing along, shouting the words back at the band, the energy was so high you wouldn't have known the difference. I just let the camera roll and got swept up in it.

The set itself was blistering. SNFU tore through "Broken Toy" and "Misfortune" with frantic energy. By the time they ripped into "She's Not on the Menu" and the chaotic "Cannibal Cafe," the room was one giant, shouting, sweating unit.

I stood there, realizing how wild it was to go from being the guy with his AirPods in, oblivious to the world, to "Napalm Death," witnessing punk rock history in a room where the crowd was just as much a part of the show as the band.

Can I come do this shit again with everyone? Anytime.

Find out more on the goings on at the PUNK ROCK MUSEUM HERE.

SNFU at the Pennywise Garage/Punk rock Museum / Photos Rocky Kessenger / Through the Metal Lens Photography