There was something electric in the air the moment I stepped into the House of Blues on Monday night. The whole room was holding its breath, waiting for one of the rare shows that stay with you long after the lights come up. Chiodos’ 20th anniversary tour for ‘All’s Well That Ends Well‘ brought out fans who’d grown up on this album, who lived through it; who healed with it, and you could feel that history pulsing through the crowd.
But before the nostalgia kicked the doors down, the night opened with three support acts who made a great impression!
Recently signed to Nuclear Blast, Big Ass Truck I.E, (not to be confused with the Memphis-based act, Big Ass Truck), were visiting Cleveland for the first time from San Bernardino, California, didn’t waste a second warming up the crowd. They blasted into their set like they’d been waiting their whole lives for this moment, and the crowd responded with approval instantly. Within minutes, people were moshing, laughing, and throwing their hands up. The band was giving off unfiltered energy. It was the perfect spark.
Then HolyWatr took over, and the vibe shifted from chaotic fun to something almost cinematic. Their stage presence felt larger than the room- commanding, intense, but somehow still intimate. When they launched into their new single “Burn The Witch,” the place lit up. You could feel the floor vibrating under your boots. There was this sense that you were catching a band right at the edge of something huge.
Of course, everything changed again when Hawthorne Heights walked out. Hailing from Dayton, this was home turf (sort of) for them, and you could feel the emotion immediately. They opened with “Pens and Needles,” and the crowd instantly went back in time. Frontman J.T. Woodruff paused partway through their set to talk about leaving behind all the negativity weighing us down—not just in the world, but in our own minds, and something about the way he said it hit harder than expected. It felt genuine. It was a reminder everyone in the room needed. Their string of hits, “This Is Who We Are,” “Saying Sorry,” “Niki FM,” washed over the crowd, but nothing compared to the way the entire room erupted for “Ohio Is for Lovers.” Every single voice sang that final chorus as if the song had been written for them personally.
And then came Chiodos.
Before a single note played, a cloaked figure appeared, smudging the stage with smoke, and suddenly the room shifted. The platforms, the glowing fake candles, the heavy ambiance- it all set the stage for something theatrical, almost ritualistic. It felt less like a concert and more like stepping back into a world many of us had lived in when we were younger; a world full of chaos and beauty and emotion we didn’t always know how to express.
They opened with “All Nereids Beware,” and from the first scream, the crowd absolutely detonated. People were crowd-surfing like the floor was lava, moshing like they were possessed, singing every single word like their lives depended on it. “The Words ‘Best Friend’ Become Redefined” and “There’s No Penguins in Alaska” hit with just as much force. Twenty years later, and these songs haven’t lost an ounce of their power.
Hearing ‘All’s Well That Ends Well’ played from start to finish was surreal. The album is woven into the emotional DNA of so many people in that room, and you could see it in their faces. Some people cried. Some people screamed until their voices cracked. Some just closed their eyes and let the music hit them like it used to. Chiodos sprinkled in a few tracks from 2007’s ‘Bone Palace Ballet,‘ a gift for the die-hard fans who’ve been with them since the beginning.
Band leader Craig Owens was a force from start to finish. His presence wasn’t just confident, it was magnetic, raw; alive. You could tell he wasn’t just performing; he was reconnecting with something, too. Seeing him throw himself into every note was a reminder of why this band meant so much to so many.
They ended the night with “Baby, You Wouldn’t Last a Minute on the Creek,” and when that final chorus hit, the crowd’s voice rose like a wave crashing back onto the stage. It felt cathartic, like a release everyone didn’t realize they needed.
Walking out into the snowy Cleveland night after the show, people were buzzing: talking about old memories, new ones, and how wild it felt to step back into a soundtrack from another life. This wasn’t just an anniversary show. It was a reunion with the music, with the past, and with parts of ourselves we may have forgotten we still carried.
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