There are shows that feel like concerts, and then there are shows that feel like survival. Last night at Red Flag in St. Louis, Eyehategod and Crowbar didn’t just play music—they dragged us through the dirt, baptized us in distortion, and left us walking out a little heavier than we came in. And that’s exactly how it should be. First up, the local act.
Formed in 2020, St. Louis heavies Fortunate Son opened the night with a set that made sure the locals were heard loud and clear. Their sound grinds together 90s noise rock grit, swamp-dragging sludge, and early-2000s hardcore chaos—like Botch and Crowbar thrown into a Missouri basement and left to ferment.
The band recently dropped a new single on YouTube, “Charmer.”
Fortunate Son – Charmer
Directed and Produced by Stephan Inman Follow us on Instagram @FortunateSonSTL
Eyehategod was next to serve, and it was pure chaos from the jump. Feedback screaming, amps howling, and Mike IX Williams commanding the stage like a man possessed with his white claw in hand. His voice was shredded, raw, and unhinged—sounding like it had been scraped straight out of his lungs just for us.
Jimmy Bower’s riffs hit like rebar dragged across concrete, filling every inch of Red Flag with suffocating heaviness. The band didn’t just play at the crowd, they pushed it—taunting, commanding, and pulling everyone into their world. It wasn’t long before the pit cracked open in the middle of the floor, bodies colliding HARD and fast, a storm of sweat and chaos that mirrored the noise from the stage. It was messy, it was violent, and is exactly why I stayed in my comfy little spot on the barricade(crocs and all).
Then Crowbar took the stage, and the chaos turned into weight—slow, crushing, unstoppable weight. Seeing Kirk Windstein seated in a chair, battling through recent health issues, only made the performance heavier. His presence didn’t shrink—it grew. Watching him power through the set while rooted to that spot was a lesson in pure resilience.
The setlist was stacked with fan favorites—every song another hammer dropped on the crowd. Planets Collide had the entire room roaring, and the one-two punch of Broken Glassand All I Had (I Gave) closed the night in a slow-motion frenzy of headbanging bodies. Seated or not, Windstein commanded the room, his riffs and roars proof that Crowbar’s spirit is unbreakable.
Red Flag was the perfect space for it—tight, loud, and raw. No frills, no distance between band and crowd. You could feel the amps in your chest, see the sweat flying, and feel strangers crash into each other in the pit before throwing arms over shoulders in the aftermath. Sludge doesn’t belong in arenas—it belongs in rooms like this, where it’s not just a show, it’s a shared survival.
Walking out, ears ringing(even having worn earplugs), it felt less like a concert and more like a ritual. Eyehategod gave us the chaos, Crowbar gave us the weight, and together they reminded us why New Orleans sludge will always stand apart.
For one night, they dragged the bayou to the Lou, cher, and turned Red Flag into a swampy, sludge-soaked revival.
Melissa O’Rourke aka WickedWitchofSTL is a jack of all trades. By day she’s an established tattooist and piercer, by night a mother to her amazing son (who is a hell of a guitarist). Melissa has a musical background and can often be found at a local karaoke joint, or a concert when she’s not driving across the country for an adventure. This social butterfly always welcomes conversation so come say hi! See y’all at the next gig!
