This weekend I went to Chicago for the Burning Fight book release party at the Metro. It was two days of stage dives and high fives, pile-ons and mosh pits, with sets by dozens of old bands who reunited to celebrate and support the new book by Brian Peterson which examines the ’90s hardcore movement by way of photos, interviews, and complete history of over 30 bands. The book includes everyone from 108 and Avail to Undertow and Vegan Reich. I've only had a small amount of time to flip through it, but so far it's a very thoughtful documentation on an interesting and passionate time for music. (My favorite sentence is in Unbroken's chapter, when Peterson writes "So, what made these Smiths worshipping, pomade wearing, splendidly dressed gentlemen so different?")

Anyway, for the book's release tons of old bands got back together to play one more time, to bring back, if only temporary, the fire that the book celebrates. The line-up included Trial, Unbroken, Reach the Sky, Guilt, and dozens more (see Saturday's set-list; see Sunday's set-list), and for some, it was the first time they shared a stage in over a decade.

First of all, I've never before been surrounded by so many straight edge kids at one time—there were Xs on everything and everyone. It felt like 1996 all over again, except I wasn't such an awkward nerd so it was even more awesome. Secondly, even though there were over a thousand kids crammed into the Metro at any given time—with all of them losing their mind over the opportunity to see old favorites again (or for the first time)—there were no fights, no assholes, and, really, no problems (okay, there was one asshole taunting Unbroken, but folks shut him up pretty quickly).

Guilt were fantastic. They're heavier, and more moody and dynamic compared to a lot of their peers. And their set was one of the few that didn't bring the mosh because, as I learned, you don't mosh to Guilt. It's too drony and slow. They started their show with every member on stage pounding a steady, spooky rhythm on tom drums, then they turned on the guitars for a 40-minute-long wall of sound. It was mesmerizing. Trial made Seattle look good—they were, of course, amazing, and Reach the Sky were fast, poppy, and fun. I really wish I had listened to them beforehand so I could've been in the pit signing along.

One of the most poignant performances of the weekend, though, was Unbroken's. They closed out the whole festival on Sunday night, and it was the first time the band had played in over a decade. They broke up in 1995 and reunited only one time since, after their guitarist Eric Allen committed suicide (the surviving members played a benefit show to help his family with funeral costs). Now, about 10 years later, they opted to not replace Allen and instead perform as a trio.

In the beginning, singer Dave Claibourn seemed a little shaky—you could tell the whole thing was surreal and overwhelming, and when he spoke between songs, he kept pausing like he was trying to take it all in. But from note one, every single kid in that crowd was there for them—it was a boiling pit of bodies, with everyone piling on each other to get closer to the stage and help Claibourn sing along. Surprisingly, near the end of the set, the band played "Final Expression," which is a song about suicide from the Life. Love. Regret. full-length. The song was written to represent a moment of despair and while it certainly doesn't condone suicide, it doesn't offer up an alternative either. It was one of the band's better-known songs before Allen's death. So in a vulnerable statement to the crowd, Claibourn gracefully acknowledged the situation—he didn't want Unbroken to be known for only that, but he didn't want the song, Allen, or the fact that so many people can identify with those emotions to be overlooked either. Halfway through the song, Claibourn pointed his hand to the sky and said "This is for you, Eric." It was a really powerful moment, I think, for a lot of people in that room.

To get just a taste of what the whole weekend was like, check out the video that Hate5six.com just posted of Trial's 45-minute set. It's a must-see if you're a hardcore music fan. They had a couple sound problems part way through, but the band didn't lose momentum. They're that fierce. I still get chills hearing Bennick say "There are 1,100 of you. There is one barrier. You do the math. This show belongs to you, we're Trial from Seattle, Washington."