A line forms outside the Foto Club, a scrappy bar in Harrowgate, Philadelphia. Outside, several people mingle in groups, standing awkwardly, yet excitedly in the darkness. I arrive an hour earlier in an unsuccessful attempt to nab an interview with ALEXSUCKS, the headliner for this special show. I do, however, catch the band members unloading their equipment as I exit, just in time to hear guitarist John Luther accidentally lock himself out of the tour van and mutter “Ahhh, fuck,” in perhaps a more unfiltered moment.
Already, I experience a side of music artists you never quite see at the Wells Fargo Center or the Union Transfer, if only for a brief moment. At a bar, there is no backstage, no curtain to hide behind. ALEXSUCKS walks through the front door, no fanfare—just musicians among the people, where everybody can see if they want, exposed to every passing glance and conversation.
Foto Club bursts with energy upon entering. To the right, a seated bar area glows under neon beer signs and metal posters. Above, TVs silently air Dragon Ball and Yu–Gi–Oh!, while overhead speakers play niche hip–hop and R&B. To the left, a solitary room holds nothing but a photo booth and a pool table. Corkboards decorate every wall, collaged with dozens of photos.
A velvet rope blocks the staircase leading to the main stage, the muffled sound of soundchecks above. Showgoers wait in anticipation, and down the stairs come different members of the band. The great part about it? They talk to attendees casually, explore the bar, and wait for the show to start. There’s more to this band we put on a pedestal; their “wildcard” persona softening into something more real, more present.
Eventually, the rope is let down, revealing to the crowd the upstairs stage area, held at eye level. The floor glows, plastic tiles illuminated by several lights as disco balls spin above and punk stickers litter the walls. When ALEXSUCKS takes the stage, the crowd explodes in applause to the sound of their newest single, “Worm In The Sun.” The garage–punk band goes through every hit in their wide discography, playing sentimental tracks like “Warm Beers” and saving their most popular song for last with “What’re We Doing Here.” The crowd, ranging from college–aged kids to people in their late 20s, sing every lyric word for word.
But what makes this show unique is the band’s genius crowd work: Several songs into their setlist, lead singer Alex Alvarez finds what I can only assume was a speaker, climbs it, and immediately jumps into the audience for some crowd surfing. While not the craziest thing ever, crowd surfing feels like a lost art—one that many artists have abandoned—making it all the more entertaining to watch. The band’s discontent with the lack of mosh pits at their show is equally fantastic; Alvarez calls us out, yelling that we aren't getting hype enough.
The only logical solution? Take matters into their own hands. John Luther decides the best course of action is to get off the stage in the middle of a song, still playing his guitar, and start pushing one of the attendees. The attendee pushes back playfully, Luther reciprocates, and more people join in until a mosh pit forms. That’s not something you see at a massive venue like Franklin Music Hall or Lincoln Financial Field.
It lasts, too. The crowd continues to mosh for the rest of the show. After “What’re We Doing Here,” the band opts for “Worm In The Sun” because now, we're “hype enough” for it—they're right. Shoving, running, and jumping ensue on the dancefloor, and it kicks ass.
The cherry on top of it all, however, happens after the show. The band members stay at the bar, talking to guests and taking selfies with the stragglers. I compliment the group and in return, receive fist bumps in appreciation. These conversations aren't simple, dismissive conversations either. They could easily say “thank you” and move on, but they choose not to.
There’s something uniquely intimate about a concert at a small bar or social space like the Foto Club, an experience you can’t find in larger, purpose–built venues. In those spaces, there’s a degree of separation between fans and the artist, whether that be security or the extremely elevated stage. To feel closer to the artist, you often need to purchase special VIP passes (or become a groupie). But at the bar show, the audience stands at the same level as the artist, creating a subconscious understanding that, perhaps parasocial, we are all one and the same.
ALEXSUCKS embraced this experience fully during their set. Given the amazing show and fantastic performers, the band’s name feels quite ironic: Alex does not suck, they excel.
