On Sept 20, 2025, I hit up McMenamins Edgefield for the first time. What a fucking introduction. First off, a met up with a rad photographer from Polyjamorous who invited me to chill with her and her pals, who were great. After initially refusing to spend $13 on McMenamin’s admittedly solid cajun tots, I still got some from some complete strangers, I mean, my new pals.
Foxing kicked things off with all the stage presence and energy you could want from an opener. A St. Louis quintet, they showed me there was more to St. Louis than just an early morning at a smoke-filled Waffle House (I only stopped once in St. Louis, so that’s all I had to go off of). They were loud, they were dynamic, and they were…well, loud. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed their set, but waking up this morning I couldn’t hum a single melody if you paid me. It’s the concert equivalent of having a great night out but not remembering what bar you were at. Several members of the crowd were rocking their Foxing shirts, so I might be the problem.
Taking Back Sunday came next, and Adam Lazzara immediately proved he’s in a category all his own. Watching him was like watching a homeless dude dance to the music in his head — except the dude also happens to be fronting a legendary emo band. He looked like he’d recently been on a hallucinogenic “spiritual journey” and come out the other side with a Bob Ross attitude. Missed notes? Happy little accidents, my friends. Vocals oscillated between “arena frontman” and “random guy in the crowd who got handed the mic.”
But the crowd? LOCKED. IN. Every shimmy, every “Mi-ahm-mi,” every microphone-abusing swing had them rapt. Even when Adam lamented John Nolan’s absence with a weirdly vague “spending time with his family” aside—right before launching into “Amphetamine”—the fans stayed with him. If half the audience now thinks Nolan is in rehab, well, that’s just part of the Taking Back Sunday ride, I suppose. People were very happy to see the very rad Fred Mascherino back, though, myself included.
After Emo’s favorite happy-go-lucky hippie frontman and crew exited the stage, the venue seemed to transform.
Then Coheed and Cambria arrived, and everything suddenly made sense. Nerd rock royalty, full stop. This was my first time seeing them live, and I left wondering why I’d waited so long. Everything I saw was so goddamned well done, which I suppose happens after doing this for THIRTY years. Practice makes perfect, mind you.
Claudio Sanchez is a bona fide rock star who knows how to own a massive stage, with the crowd going nuclear every other minute. I was also very excited to see Josh Eppard play, as Racket had interviewed him for his rap side project TWENTY YEARS AGO, making him one of our first interviews we ever published. Turns out, he is one of the best live drummers I’ve ever seen.
At one point, a giant inflatable Blind Side Sonny appeared right before the band went into the song of the same name, and I swear to God the entire venue collectively lost their fucking minds.
Coheed’s set was the kind of arena-sized, nerd-approved spectacle that reminds you why live music is worth the ticket price. They’re rock stars for D&D nerds, sure, but last night they proved they’re just plain rock stars, period. If Foxing left me with nothing to hum and Taking Back Sunday left me scratching my head while sporting a shit-eating grin, Coheed left me with no doubt — I’ll be back the next time they roll through town.
So long, Edgefield, and thanks for all the tots.