November 07, 2025 – I’ve been following the band State Champs since they were scribbling their name on the back of mixtapes in the dorm room of my pop punk dreams, so walking into House of Independents in Asbury Park felt like stepping back and forward all at once.
Photos + Article by Alyssa Ciervo @ACiervoPhotography
From the moment the lights dipped and the first feral riffs of “Tonsil Hockey” ripped into the air, the room erupted 1000-watt nostalgic grins, sweat in our hair, and a sea of voices shouting the refrains like this band’s early EP had been our summer summer-anthem cassette.
Nostalgia Cascading Through Key Songs
When out-of-nowhere blasts of “Remedy” and “Outta My Head” hit about three songs in, I felt time rewind to 2015-era warped-tour fervor, but we were here now, with that same hungry roar. In “Common Sense” the crowd surged, a single organism of fists and air, as the walls of the room pulsated with memory-laced riffs. Then the fast and furious push of “Criminal” reminded me why I fell in love with this band, the effortless jump from hook to emotional punch.
And when they leaned into “Light Blue” there it was again, that chord progression that felt like your first heartbreak and your first mosh pit rolled into one. It’s a track you swear you knew before you consciously heard it. The later “Fake It” and “Slow Burn” were nods to their evolution, softer edges under the buzz of amps they showed how they’ve grown without losing the raw pop punk core.
House of Independents doesn’t pretend to be a polished arena. No VIP balconies. No photo pit cordoning off the real fans from the real moment. The barrier between band and audience evaporated at show start. My lens snapped shots of fingers in the air, bottle caps flying, people crowd surfing like a single wave as I balanced camera in one hand, crowd in the other. The pit was relentless. At one point someone landed on top of me and I thought, Yep, I’m exactly where I need to be.
The venue embraced it’s independent spirit, local beer posters by the bar, a stage that barely looked higher than eye-level (so the band could lean in, share sweat, jokes, riffs), and the crowd breathing the same air at ground floor. That’s the magic of this show, intimate, unfiltered, chaotic in the best way.
What It Meant To This Longtime Fan
As someone who grew up dancing around their bedroom to pop punk chest beats, watching State Champs tonight felt kind of like watching your favorite story turn full circle. I saw kids around me some fresh to the scene, some had scars from past tours everyone singing “All You Are Is History” with open throated gusto. That song, especially, hit hard. Hearing it live made me think of every album listening moment, every teen skipped work excuse, every first drive playlist. When they closed (or near closed) with “Simple Existence” the crowd clung to every note, as if we were all refusing to let go of the night.
Final Thoughts
Here’s to the sweat, the surge, the glow of guitar strings under neon lights. If you were there, you know the feeling of being lifted, slammed, screamed at, yet somehow embraced. If you weren’t, mark that next tour date. Because this band, this crowd, this venue, they make the magic happen.
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