Review & Photography by Nathan Vestal for MPM
There’s a kind of electric melancholy that lives inside a venue like X-Ray Arcade in Milwaukee, WI—something about the crackle of CRT monitors and half-lit pinball machines humming in the background while a band screams about trauma under purple stage lights. On July 2, 2025, that melancholy erupted into something cathartic as four acts—Badtzmaru, Garden Home, For Your Health, and awakebutstillinbed—stitched together a night that was equal parts chaos, tenderness, and unfiltered release.
The crowd was already buzzing by the time Badtzmaru took the stage. If you’ve never seen the local act, imagine a band that sounds like a Lisa Frank folder torn in half over a blown-out PA system— filtered through busted amp fuzz and manic drumming. Their set was short, loud, and delightfully weird, leaving the crowd hungry for more. Badtzmaru doesn’t play with the polish of a band hoping to land a Spotify editorial playlist. They play like they just lit their demo tape on fire and jumped into a ball pit.
The Milwaukee-based band Garden Home followed with a set that felt like someone flipping the lights off and on the inside your chest. Their style leans into the lush, reverb-drenched side of post-emo—dreamy guitar lines that swirl like smoke around melancholic vocals. If Badtzmaru punched you in the face, Garden Home bandaged your wounds and whispered that everything would be okay, eventually. The crowd was psyched to hear a mix of older and newer tracks, some dating back to pre-COVID. When they ended with “False Spring,” Dylan Mazurkiewicz was joined by both longtime and new fans screaming along passionately.
Then came the Ohio-based For Your Health, who immediately made it clear that sitting was no longer an option. The six-piece band tore through their set with precise chaos, a flurry of serrated guitars and throat-shredding vocals that sounded like they were being exorcised through a megaphone. Their energy was furious but smart—not just catharsis for catharsis’ sake, but purpose-driven rage. You could feel it in the front row, people pushing against the stage not to mosh, but to be near it.
To bear witness. Frontperson Hayden Rodriguez moved like a wind-up toy with its gears stripped—erratic, sharp, human. A circle pit formed, but it felt less like aggression and more like a chaotic ballet of kids trying not to spill each other’s drinks. By the time they closed with “Apostasy”, Rodriguez once again encouraged the crowd to move closer to the stage to close the gap left by the pit. It was exhilarating and terrifying in the best way.
And then, finally, awakebutstillinbed.
If you’re a fan, then you already know: Shannon Taylor, also known as awakebutstillinbed, doesn’t perform so much as bleed. The minute Taylor stepped on stage, the room seemed to exhale. You could feel the weight of the night shift, the collective tension that had built up through three very different but emotionally intense sets. Upon uttering the first verses, her voice cracked in that perfect, devastating way—just enough imperfection to remind you that these songs are still alive inside her. They are not just relics of heartbreaks past. She played a mix of new material and cuts from what people call low self-esteem is really just seeing yourself the way that other people see you, each one met with quiet awe. Unlike the previous sets, people didn’t move much. There was no pit. Just eyes wide and fixed. Some swayed. Some cried. Some stood dead still.
The most powerful moment of the night came halfway through their set, when Taylor played “Life,” alone on stage with just a guitar. The arcade machines, for once, were silent. A hush fell over the room, and you could hear every lyric, every tremble. “I’m still learning how to live without apologizing for existing,” she sang, and someone in the back whispered, “Fuck,” under their breath. That about summed it up.
awakebutstillinbed’s power has always been a refusal to flinch. The lyrics don’t shy away from mental illness, gender dysphoria, loneliness, or self-hate—but they also don’t wallow. There’s survival in those songs. Defiance. On this night, it felt like we weren’t just watching a band—we were watching someone survive in real time and inviting us to do the same.
As the last notes rang out and the band stepped off stage, there wasn’t a roar of applause. There was something softer. A mutual understanding. This wasn’t a night for victory laps or curtain calls. It was a night for showing up, for feeling everything all at once, for letting go.
X-Ray Arcade has seen its share of rowdy punk shows and big feelings, but this one will sit with people for a while. It wasn’t just a show. It was a reminder that sometimes, the loudest thing a band can do is tell the truth—and let the rest of us scream it back.
