Beneath the dirt, grime, and decay of Wilkinsburg, a punk haven (or, rather, just a graffiti-covered garage) called Collision welcomes Chicago/New York-based band Cellular Chaos on their spring tour.
Collision is easy to miss if you’re not directed by someone who has been there before. It’s a hole in the wall, literally.

The venue is surrounded by a protective shroud of abandoned buildings and a warm, dimly lit neighborhood.

The neighbors don’t seem to mind the music, as long as no one parks in their streets.
Upon first entry through a sheet tacked up against the side of the building and a plywood post, there is the main door. Its large and barely fits in the frame. Painted in a whimsical font on it are the words “push me.”

A person sitting on a stool takes our ten dollars and draws an X on our hand. The music begins.
Cellular Chaos identifies as a “mutant onslaught” and their music lives up to their name.

The singer entered the stage (a carpet) dressed like a cross dressing pirate. Pantaloons, knee high socks, a plastic pirate hat, and a mesh shirt; things that could only be found all together at a thrift store.
She sang in an American accent about hating the British parliament and being a girl.

The guitarist wielded his guitar like a shotgun and stomped through the audience. The singer threw herself on the floor and convulsed, allowing the entire venue to absorb her energy. Front row at Collision never disappoints.

With hardcore music, there is bound to be a mosh pit. There’s a crop of jaggad black hair flopping around attached to a body moving more frantically than the others.

His name is Richard and he loves to dance.

“Have you ever met a person that doesn’t know how to dance? They probably suck.”

Richard wore a black rimmed glasses and an Adidas tracksuit zip up. He talked a lot about dancing and showed us pictures from when he shaved his head.

“You’re gonna have to come see Gas Station pgh here sometime.”

Gas Station is Richard’s band. He didn’t mention what instrument he played but he was sure we knew he would be dancing.

Richard disappeared back into the crowd where bodies were slapping against each other and limbs were flailing.

Cellular Chaos kept their energy high all the way through their forty five minute set. The time was approaching midnight when Collision finally started to quiet.

Outside in the chilly May evening air a stray cat jumps from the lid of a dumpster and the only sound that can be heard is the ringing in our ears.

Collision in Wilkinsburg is the epitome of real hardcore with its platform-less stage and deafening speakers.

They have events at least twice a week. All show fliers can be found at collisionpgh on Instagram.

By Cilia Catello and Madeleine Frutos