Chevelle delivers relentless energy in Ohio
To tell this story, we’ve got to rewind to 2002. Picture a kid with a busted guitar in his lap, parked in front of MTV, half-pretending to practice. Then “The Red” by Chevelle flickered onto the screen and stopped me cold. That song hit like a flare in the dark — outcast at school, black sheep at home, convinced loneliness was permanent. And then here was this band from God-knows-where, saying the thing I couldn’t.
I didn’t stay a lifer. My path veered into metal, hardcore, punk — heavier, faster, messier — and Chevelle didn’t fit that gospel. But every time they crept back in, on the radio or tucked in a playlist, the old warmth came rushing back. Proof that for at least three and a half minutes, I was never as alone as I thought.
Now it’s 23 years later. I’m a concert photographer chasing down the bands that built me. Chevelle and Asking Alexandria on the same bill? No hesitation. I was there.
Dead Poet Society opened with that raw-nerved, basement-born energy — jagged edges, unpolished, and better for it. Asking Alexandria followed, slick and heavy, a band that knows how to work a stage and drag the crowd along with them.
But the night belonged to Chevelle. Touring behind Bright as Blasphemy, Chevelle could’ve leaned into the new material. Instead, they detonated the evening with “Family System” and “The Clincher” — early-era staples that still hit like a crowbar to the ribs. From there, it was a career-spanning onslaught, rooted in “Wonder What’s Next” and the new record, but pulling from everywhere in between.
The gamble with three-piece bands is always the same: sometimes you just get three guys standing there. Chevelle has never been that kind of machine. Pete Loeffler commanded the stage like he was leading an army. Kemble Walters threw his neck into every note, headbanging like he was trying to shake something loose. Sam Loeffler annihilated the drums, beating them like they’d insulted his mother. Two decades on, the songs still breathe fire, still drive forward like a runaway freight.
I walked out buzzing, pulled their discography back up when I got home, and I haven’t stopped listening since. Nostalgia gave me the spark, but the show in Cincinnati proved it: Chevelle still carries the weight, still swings like they mean it.
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