By Yuri Woodfall – Western Lead, Photojournalist – Sound Check Entertainment
Before Joyce Manor turned Midway Music Hall into a full-scale emotional riot, the night’s openers spent hours softening the venue up for impact – with varying degrees of chaos and success.
Combat kicked the evening off with an energetic set that leaned heavily into scrappy punk urgency. The passion was there from the start, but at times it felt like the band was actively combating for harmonies that fully locked together. Even so, the crowd responded well to the rawness of their performance, and the set carried the kind of messy charm that worked in the room.
Teen Mortgage followed with a strong burst of noisy garage-punk energy. Their sound hit hard, and the crowd clearly fed off the intensity coming from the stage, but visually the performance felt surprisingly stationary compared to the movement erupting in the audience. Still, the duo’s aggressive delivery helped keep the momentum climbing as the venue continued filling wall-to-wall.
Militarie Gun proved to be the standout support act of the night. Blending hardcore aggression with massive melodic hooks, their set felt tailor-made for a packed room like Midway. By the end of their performance, the floor had already devolved into crowd surfers, circle pits, and bodies crashing into each other with reckless enthusiasm – making it very clear Joyce Manor were about to walk into absolute chaos.
And chaos is exactly what happened.
On May 9, Midway Music Hall transformed from a concert venue into what felt like the world’s loudest emotional support group as Joyce Manor ripped through a sweat-soaked set that barely gave the audience time to breathe.
From the second the house lights dropped, the crowd surged forward like they had been waiting all winter for exactly this release. Joyce Manor has always had a unique ability to make heartbreak sound like a sprint, and live, those songs hit even harder. No wasted movement. No drawn-out speeches. Just song after song fired out at full speed while hundreds of voices screamed every word back at the stage.
Opening with “Mark Chen” and quickly charging into “Falling in Love Again” and “Beach Community,” the band wasted absolutely no time igniting the room. Midway instantly became a sea of bouncing bodies and flying crowd surfers as “Heart Tattoo” and “Grey Guitar” pushed the energy even higher. By the time “I Used to Go to This Bar” and “Last You Heard of Me” hit, it felt less like a concert and more like collective emotional release therapy disguised as a punk show.
One of the biggest reactions of the night came during “Constant Headache,” where the crowd’s singalong nearly overpowered the venue’s PA system entirely. You could barely hear Barry Johnson over hundreds of fans screaming every word back at the stage. The run through “Leather Jacket,” “Fight Song,” and “Falling Into It” only escalated the chaos further before the encore closed the night with “Ashtray,” “Well, Whatever It Was,” and the absolutely explosive “Five Beer Plan.”
What makes Joyce Manor stand out is how deceptively simple their songs are. Most barely crack the two-minute mark, but each one lands with the emotional weight of something much bigger. Barry Johnson’s vocals balanced sarcasm, exhaustion, and sincerity all at once while the band behind him kept everything locked tightly together despite the absolute mayhem unfolding in front of the barricade.
The Edmonton crowd deserved just as much credit as the band. This wasn’t passive indie-rock head nodding – this was full commitment. Shoes were getting lost. Drinks were flying. At one point, the floor looked like it had developed its own current as the pit continuously swallowed and spit people back out.
The beauty of the night was how raw and unfiltered everything felt. No giant production. No over-polished visuals. No backing tracks doing the heavy lifting. Just loud guitars, emotional lyrics, and a packed room ready to scream themselves hoarse for a couple of hours.
As the lights came up after the encore, Midway Music Hall looked like the aftermath of a small natural disaster – exhausted smiles, soaked shirts, and people trying to figure out where exactly they lost their hat halfway through “The Opossum.”
In other words: exactly what a Joyce Manor show is supposed to look like.
