I’ve been listening to Max Cavalera’s music since junior high, long before I ever picked up a camera. The first time I saw Soulfly was back in 2001 when they opened for Pantera with Morbid Angel and Nothingface rounding out the bill. That night started with a group of friends taking the bus from Puyallup to Seattle, all the while “sneakily” passing around a 2-liter of whiskey and Coke — almost certainly stolen from someone’s parent — and ended with us missing the last bus home, still half-drunk and stoned, calling for rescue via payphone. That night shaped so much of what I love about heavy music: it was raw, unfiltered, spiritual chaos. And here, more than two decades later, Soulfly still carries that same charge.

I walked into Airport Tavern before the show and the bar was already buzzing, but the venue was wide open with only a couple staff members inside and Wesley Willis screaming Rock ’n’ Roll McDonald’s into the room. It felt like the universe was giving me a heads up that the night was about to get weird in all the right ways.

Once the doors opened, the vibe flipped fast. One minute I’m standing in a quiet room listening to Wesley Willis echo off empty walls, the next I’m surrounded by a full house sweating before the first riff even hits.

Ancestors of God and Lost Land got everyone moving, but Go Ahead and Die were the ones who cracked the night open. Their set had this sharp, punk edge to it. Loud, messy, and immediate. It was the kind of set that made the Sunday night crowd turn from excited to unhinged.

By the time Soulfly stepped onstage, the crowd was practically frothing at the mouth. Max was all smiles, commanding the chaos in front of him with joy instead of menace. Guitarist Mike DeLeon was a true highlight to watch. He was cheesing ear-to-ear, giving the crowd thumbs-up, all while shredding riffs that felt like they were peeling the paint off the walls. Watching Zyon Cavalera and bassist Chase Bryant lock in together was equally amazing. They came together to form grooves that were heavy, precise, and relentless. It’s the kind of rhythm section you feel in your ribs long after the show has ended.

The music was intense, but it was the familial energy that really stuck with me. Max kept sneaking proud glances at his sons throughout the night, Zyon on drums for Soulfly and Igor Amadeus fronting Go Ahead and Die, and as a dad myself that hit harder than any breakdowns happening onstage. There is a different kind of heaviness in seeing that sort of connection live. Soulfly’s "your tribe, our tribe" creed suddenly felt real, something lived in the moment instead of just part of the mythos.

Watching Max jam with his kids made me think about my own son and all the chaos and weird adventures we still have ahead of us. I can only hope that one day he and I get to have even half as much fun together as Max clearly does with his. It reminded me that loud music isn’t just catharsis; it is connection and lineage and something we pass down whether we mean to or not.

When the lights finally came up, I felt wrecked and buzzing at the same time. Exhausted from keeping my head above water in that crowd, but energized in a way only a night like this can hit you. Driving home, I kept replaying the way Max and his sons connected onstage. It added a weight to the night that I didn’t expect and made me look forward to sharing my own passions with my son, whether that ends up being loud music or something completely different.