September 16th & 17th, 2025 — Two nights that felt like someone cracked open my old CD wallet, ripped out every mix I made on a sleepless school night, and blasted it through the speakers of Brooklyn Bowl Philly. Bayside was celebrating 25 years, but it felt like they were celebrating every bad haircut, every AIM status lyric, every long drive where I screamed their words out the car window just to feel alive.
Photos + Article by @a.j.kinney
And before we even go to Bayside, let’s not forget to mention that The Sleeping walked out like a ghost from the MySpace Top 8 era. The band opened both nights and hearing them again was like running into an old best friend you lost touch with but still remember every inside joke. The riffs hit like a flashback, and suddenly I was sixteen again; sweaty, shoving my way to the front of a tiny VFW hall. Their energy was pure nostalgia, bottled lightning with a side of scene kid déjà vu.
When Bayside took the stage. And honestly? I don’t even know how to explain what happened without sounding like I’m scribbling in a notebook under a blacklight. Two nights, two album centric sets, two versions of ourselves crashing together in one room.
Night one was all about the early records; raw, messy, bleeding heart stuff. The kind of songs that cracked your chest open when your crush ignored you in homeroom, or when you got dumped over a text that said “it’s not you, it’s me.” Hearing those tracks live again felt like opening an old wound just to remind yourself you’re still capable of feeling. The pit wasn’t as violent, as it was therapy. Every scream was a prayer. Every chorus was a group diary entry shouted into the rafters.
Night two hit different. Those were the records that carried us out of teenage tragedy into the heavier stuff; rent, bills, breakups that lasted years instead of weeks. It was the soundtrack to growing up but never outgrowing who you were. The songs were tighter, bigger, bolder, but still bruised in that way only Bayside can be. Anthony Raneri’s voice has aged like it smoked a pack of Camels behind the high school but still somehow made it to graduation. Dark, sharp, cutting straight through the noise.
By the time the last notes faded on the second night, my throat was shredded from screaming, my chest felt lighter, and my eyeliner was definitely a crime scene. Bayside pulled us all back together, every lost kid who thought emo was a phase only to realize it was actually survival.
So yeah, Bayside turned 25. And I’m still that same kid in the crowd, holding onto every word like it might save me.
