In the second summer of the year of our lord COVID-19, a thousand punks showed up to watch Warthog play under a bridge in Brooklyn.

Fueled by a gasoline generator, 16 months of isolation, and recent double doses of vaccine, the permit-free show in an alleyway flanked by junkyards very quickly erupted into chaos. As some fans crowd-surfed and pitted, others climbed on top of parked big rigs to get a better view or set off fireworks; back in the pit, someone was breathing fireballs. The NYPD pulled up mid-set but had zero chance of clearing out such a completely unhinged scene. “The show happened, and no one got seriously injured, no one got arrested, and then we fucking bounced. And it was the most surreal, insane, adrenaline-fueled ‘what the fuck’ kind of night,” says Warthog drummer Ryan Naideau.

Warthog 1, Cops 0.

Warthog have played many shows that will go down, possibly on a slightly lower rung, in punk history. There was the Mexico City gig where fans made and destroyed a giant pihata of the band’s mulleted skeleton mascot, Larry; an eviction party for the last concert at the fantastic venue Brooklyn Bazaar; and a drug-fueled set of pure destruction at a warehouse in downtown Los Angeles at about six in the morning. The list goes on.


You need to log in or subscribe to read on

Forgot username or password?


The creem magazine archive

Every page from every issue—discover why CREEM was the most feared music magazine in the world.


CREEM Join The Band T-Shirt


Boy Howdy! T-Shirts

Boy Howdy!

CREEM glassware


CREEM +001

Back Issues


What we’re listening to and other musings.
It’s free!