Scowl – The Fine Line – Minneapolis MN – July 29th 2025

The Fine Line and First Avenue present Scowl with special guests Glixen on July 29th 2025

Review and photos by Peyton Rondeau

While the night was anchored by Scowl’s charged headlining set, Glixen provided a crucial shift in mood. Their shoegaze‑drenched punk wrapped the Fine Line in swirling reverb, hazy melodies, and a driving undercurrent that kept the room swaying. Warm guitar tones bled into each other, layered over propulsive drumming that gave the dream‑heavy sound a pulse.

In a bill otherwise packed with hardcore bite, Glixen’s set felt like stepping into a fever dream—an atmospheric bridge between the pummeling heaviness of Sleeper Cell and the relentless motion of Scowl. The crowd leaned into it, heads nodding and bodies swaying, almost hypnotized before being jolted back into chaos for the headliner.

Mold

Opening the night, Minneapolis locals Mold tore through their set with jagged, abrasive riffs and snarling urgency. Their raw presence hinted at chaos, sparking the first ripples of pit movement from an otherwise warming‑up crowd.

Sleeper Cell

Following them, Sleeper Cell brought a heavier, metallic‑hardcore edge. Their precision‑cut breakdowns landed like hammer blows, coaxing the first real pit surges and a few spirited shoves. They left the room buzzing with anticipation for what was to come.

Scowl at Fine Line

On a humid Tuesday night, the Fine Line Music Café in downtown Minneapolis became a gathering place for punks, hardcore kids, and the simply curious—drawn in by one of the most talked‑about young bands in heavy music today. But instead of the whirlwind of stage dives and unrelenting mosh chaos that often defines a Scowl show, this stop carried a different current: one of focused intensity and measured connection.

From the moment Kat Moss bounded onto the stage, there was no question that Scowl’s energy was at full throttle. She paced, jumped, and threw herself into every lyric as the band hammered into their opening track. The crowd responded with movement—steady moshing, people jumping in unison, and the occasional stage dive from the braver fans.

As the set neared its end, the energy ramped back up—more jumping, the pit churning faster, and one last round of stage dives. When the band left the stage, chants for “one more song” rolled in—not deafening, but undeniable. Scowl returned for a blistering two‑minute closer, leaving both the pit and the stage drenched in sweat.

Scowl brought fire to the Fine Line without letting the night spiral into unhinged mayhem. The crowd moved, moshed, and dove, but also stood attentive for the band’s more melodic turns. Kat Moss and her bandmates never stopped bouncing, pacing, and pushing the room forward, proving that even a “tamer” Scowl show still carries a charge most bands can only dream of.