There are some things in this world, about this band, and about this show in particular, that feel sacred. Some things that a lady never tells. So let’s get the requisite wink and a smile out of the way—I got on a plane this past Friday because cybergrind scene heroes Thotcrime announced their final show ever at the Subterranean in Chicago, and look, I’m in the middle of a move, under no circumstances did I actually have the time to fly from Boston to Chicago for a show but under no circumstances would I have had the long-term grace and patience with myself to navigate the planet-sized chip on my shoulder I would have wound up with if I’d missed it. Too much of my life has fallen spectacularly out of place in the past year not to cling to the music and experiences that made the rest of it make at least some small amount of sense.
I’d caught the collective live before, in a way, back in June of 2023 when frontwoman Hayley Bender was still doing solo gigs around Philadelphia as Thotcrime. She was sharing a bill with a friend of mine at a communist book ‘store’ in West Philly, so I bummed a ride with that friend and her partner down from the place I still hadn’t quite committed to calling “Nu England.” This was shortly after the launch of the Nu Metal Agenda, and shortly after I became acquainted with Thotcrime’s game around the release of D1G1T4L_DR1FT in 2022. Suffice to say I’ve written about the band a few times since then, but back then I was mostly just basking in the glow a bit, and still wrapping my head around the now-inescapable fact that there was a path forward in music, in nu-metal, for people like me. Seeing everyone on that bill—mostly trans women in heavy music—do their collective thing made so many possible futures real in a way I needed to see. I kept working on my own music, my own writing. I started hormones the following February after the longest ten months I’ve ever spent on a waitlist.
We’re all older now. Wiser, though that’s probably debatable in my case. I’m pushing two years on HRT at this point, right about the point Hayley was writing the lyrics to “trust://fall,” understanding the line about feeling alive for the first time better than I ever have. It’s not all sunshine and roses, though. Politics have deteriorated for us on this side of the pond, as well as in the United Kingdom where Thotcrime producer and core member Les Beaux Plastiques is based. Beaux was not present at the farewell show for related reasons, and the absence of late drum savant Dot Homler behind the kit lay heavy over the room and heavy in the hearts of those who knew hir personally and in those of more parasocially-inclined hearts like mine, who only ever got to experience hir presence through live vids and the singularly bonkers drum loops sie contributed to those albums.
Let me be clear, though: this was in no way a fucking funeral. Long-time touring partner Cocojoey kicked off the night re-establishing their credentials as that bitch who’s going to get a circle pit going with a keytar and a can-do attitude. Anita Velveeta followed up with a raucous not-quite-post hardcore set, her guitarist breaking the tension by sprinkling in memey classic rock and country riffs in between songs. A whole fucking lot of “Bad to the Bone.” And listen, a room full of queer and trans people in Chicago in November of 2025 is one of the small handful of contexts where that riff still hits with something deeper than irony. I got tired of watching from the top railing by that point, and made sure I was down on the floor for cybergrind heroes Blind Equation. We covered them a lot in the early days of the site but I’d never seen them live—don’t miss them if you get the chance, that set ripped. The whole night I couldn’t help but think of our queer ancestors in the eighties, going to funerals in the mornings to grieve their fallen, and then turning up and dancing the night away because when the future is uncertain we have no choice but to lean on our communities and live as hard as we can. They were there with us that night. So was Dot. In the pit, behind the kit, whatever sie’s feeling up there these days honestly, in a place we can only hope has been kinder than this one.
To say Thotcrime finally got on stage at this point isn’t quite accurate. Hayley was in the pit the whole night up to this point, hopping on stage to share the mic with the preceding acts once or twice per set. When Thotcrime took the stage, their final iteration was a laptop pumping out Dot and Beaux’s parts, Hayley on the mic, and her now-wife Melody Jane on guitar. Sometimes when life goes on, it goes all the way on. Tracks like “Garden Court”—which I’ve loved since it dropped last year for its blend of nostalgia and hope for the future—hit so much differently when it’s most likely the last time they’ll ever be heard live, but they also hit differently when the community and deeply profound love that grew in part from the cross-country move the song describes are playing out on stage, and everywhere else in that room.
Shoutout to the sound guy at the Subterranean, by the way. This final iteration of the band had to be a tricky one to mix, but the backing tracks were right where they needed to be, and Hayley always seems to know exactly the right things to get the crowd going. She said exactly the right thing to get me in the pit for “My Final Escape.” It wasn’t my first time moshing in hoops I wasn’t planning on moshing in, but it sure as shit won’t be my last. I wasn’t going to fly all the way out from Boston just to stand in the back all night.
When the last notes faded and it became apparent that was all the show the collective had left in them after an insanely prolific and turbulent five-year run, the cheers kept going for a lot longer than they normally do at these things. Hayley and Mel embraced and kissed on stage, and everyone cheered for that too. Projects end, but life goes on. Communities go on. Music goes on. Love goes on.
Thank you, Thotcrime. For everything, truly, but especially for stoking a fire strong enough to keep a community warm through this monster of a decade. We’ve got it from here.
