Chain Reaction: A Legendary 2-Night Goodbye with Movements

Photo by: Joma Mandocdoc (IG: jrm.ptrp)

“We knew for the West Coast, we had to do the obvious three when it comes to what people think about when they think about legendary venues on the West Coast: Che Cafe, Gilman and Chain.” - Touche Amore

The legendary Southern California venue Chain Reaction has officially closed its doors, leaving our hearts on the floor and our memories permanently gilded. R.I.P. Chain, may you rest easy. But before we lay the final rose on the casket, can we talk about how absolutely epic this two day farewell truly was? Underbrook on Thursday, followed by Cheridomingo on Friday, Militarie Gun on both days, all topped off with local Orange County heroes Movements closing it out. And just when you thought it was done, a surprise guest set by My Last Goodbye as people took their final walk from Chain's doors to their cars. The call was made, and the real ones showed up and showed out.

It feels like just yesterday the word got out about Chain closing, and in a way it really was just that recent, but the news spread fast. Timelines, stories, and feeds from near and far were flooded with love, grief, and gratitude as the scene collectively processed the loss. We are talking about THE Chain Reaction, the place where pretty much all of your favorite bands once stood on that tiny stage. From My Chemical Romance and Avenged Sevenfold to Turnstile, Thrice, Touché Amoré, and The Used. A 250 capacity room packed to the brim, sold out both nights, bodies pressed together for one last chance to feel it. One more memory made inside those t-shirt lined walls that shaped generations.

The LA Times took notice of the closure and delivered a full retrospective on Chain Reaction’s history, tracing it from its earliest days to the present. Streamers, artists, and journalists alike began digging through the countless stories those walls held, each memory surfacing as proof of just how much this place mattered. What some of us are still coming to terms with is that these past two nights marked the end of an absolute era. Nearly thirty years of serving as one of California’s most iconic starting points for artists finding their footing.

Chain Reaction did not just create memories for musicians, it shaped the lives of fans too. Where did you take your first stage dive? Where did you first step into a mosh pit? Where did you meet friends who would end up lasting a lifetime? For so many of us, the answer is this very room, and that legacy deserves to be recognized.

With that being said, let’s keep this short and sweet and talk about the energy these last hoorahs had to offer. Grounds were shaking, voices were heard all the way to neighboring cities, laughs were shared, and stories were exchanged between artists and fans, artists to artists, and fans to fans. One more time you could order your cheap drink at the bar and step outside to be surrounded by the familiar faces of your friends along that graffiti covered side wall.

Opening Thursday night was Underbrook, one of the newer bands stepping into the scene. They set the tone for the evening with a sense of fresh beginnings as people filtered in, found their spots, and prepared for the hours ahead. Their pop infused hardcore sound helped shake off some early nerves, pulling listeners out of wallflower mode and into motion. If it was not the band themselves sparking that energy, it was their tight knit group of friends occupying the middle of the room, hyping up the set and encouraging the crowd around them to engage.

It was clear this moment carried a very specific weight. Playing the Chain Reaction stage, especially during its final run, is something many bands dream of, and you could feel the excitement knowing this was one of their last chances to be part of that legacy.

Friday welcomed a different opener, and for those lucky enough to score tickets for both days, it felt like getting two sides of their final Chain meal. This time it was Ventura County’s own Cheridomingo, and taking over the space Underbrook had filled the night before, they did just as well getting the party started for the iconic venue. Although still forming in crowd, there was no short of a pit forming with the friends who were present. The band stated themselves that they've played Chain times before, but not at this capacity.

Next up was Militarie Gun, an established favorite that the now fuller crowd eagerly sang along with and interacted through. Let the games begin, stage dives and push pits officially commenced. Militarie Gun had the honor of playing both Thursday and Friday nights, and there was no need for proof of their fan favorite status. The crowd kept filling in, getting deeper into it as the night went on. This is where you start to feel that familiar heat, bodies closer than comfortable, beads of sweat forming on your brow. One. Last. Time. Pushing through those AC lacking floors because you knew this was it. Opening and closing with “B A D I D E A” on Friday, the second time hitting even harder, with pits in full swing and crowdsurfers doing their thing, including one particularly impressive beer chug mid action. It all built up and spilled over, breaking those highly ignored Chain signs we love so much just before Movements took the stage.

A couple of hours later, suddenly it was time. The moment Movements stepped onto that stage. If you know Movements, you know they are a pretty rare headlining show to catch these days. Between opening slots and touring internationally, this felt especially damn special for fans, made even heavier by the nostalgic weight of Chain Reaction.

Before getting into their set, I have a confession and a slight introduction to the emotional cap on these two massive historical days. Now look, my friend and I have been talking about Movements for as long as we have known each other, because it is his favorite band. I will admit when he first introduced them to me, I liked a few songs. Then more grew on me. Then I hit that point of, oh damn, I like this band. We talked endlessly about them playing a show near us. Then one morning I woke up and saw the flyer. It almost felt like the universe heard us whining and said fine, here is your Movements show. I was freaking out, spam texting him that we needed to be in line at least a few hours before the box office opened. Job? What job? No job was stopping me from getting there and securing those tickets.

People are probably laughing at me for thinking a few hours early was enough. Nope. The dedication some people showed was unreal. That closing venue, rare band headlining line started the night before. Yes, the night before, camping chairs locked in, blankets ready. The second I saw someone spill the tea on TikTok, I was grabbing my bag and flying from San Diego to the spot, within the speed limit of course. People drove hours. People slept on asphalt. There was no messing around. The long night turned into a cold dawn, and that cold dawn turned into an annoyingly eighty degree day. The line stretched all the way to Denny’s, cars passing by with raised eyebrows like who are all these people dressed in black waiting for.

But we did it. Some did not, but the turnout of people who tried was still incredibly heartwarming.

So there it was, the work before the play. Fast forward, timelines repeating themselves on both Thursday and Friday with a phenomenal Movements set. I cannot emphasize this enough. THIS IS A BAND YOU NEED TO EXPERIENCE. Day one Movements listeners, opener listeners, and the “I came here for Chain” listeners collided in those final moments. Bodies diving (sometimes falling), water from bottles flying from pure excitement, the ground shaking from collective jumps. The half-wall became a diving board. This was a night to remember, the final chapter of an iconic venue, and a memory permanently embedded in everyone who walked through those doors one last time.

Every lyric was sung. Nobody stood still. Reality was setting in. Movements played a generous spread of songs, new and old, from older hits like “Hatchet” to their newest “Where I Lay,” cutting deep with crowd favorites like “Daylily.” I have heard loud crowds before, but this one held something different. Raw emotion hung thick in the sweaty air. This was the night you did not care about getting smacked around or pressed into a wall. This was celebration in every form. Patrick shared some of the band’s earliest memories on that very stage between songs, thanking everyone who came out and thanking the venue itself for supporting them in their earliest days.

Just when you thought emotions could not climb any higher, Patrick delivered a tear inducing speech that fully cemented the reality that this truly was the end of an era:

“I had to write it all down. It's a ******* essay, so please be patient with me.Yeah, please be patient with me. I got a lot. Now this is all from my personal experience and I hope that some of you, if not all of you, can relate to what I'm going to say. But I will start with a little bit about myself, alright?

I grew up sheltered. My parents were very strict. I wasn't allowed to watch violent television. Pokémon. I wasn't allowed to play violent video games. Pokémon.Yes, really, that's true. But that shelter, that bread, some rebellion, right? And then as I grew and into my adolescence, I found that rebellion here in these walls. At age 8 or 9, I was introduced to pop punk, which over the next five years would lead me to finding emo music, which led me to find metalcore, which ultimately led me to find hardcore and so on and so forth.

But finally, I felt like I had something that I could call my own. I could have a musical identity that was further than just whatever my parents would play in the car. And I spent hours, man. I spent ******* hours and hours of those years, those formative years, watching live sets on YouTube. And all of my favorite bands, I found myself coming back to certain videos of one particular venue. Every time that I saw that glowing sign in the thumbnail of a video with a band in front of it, I told myself, yeah, that's gonna be a good video to watch. And most of the time they were.

That logo became burned into my mind. It became burned into my mind, and I didn't have the chance to come to my first show here until I was 14 years old. But the second that I walked through those doors and I saw that sign with my own eyes. It felt like a dream. It felt like I was seeing some famous landmark, my own personal eighth wonder of the world. I'd seen it so many ******* times, man. To see it in real life, it immediately made me extremely nervous. It made me so ******* nervous, and I spent the entirety of that show in the back. And that show wasn't really anything that special, right? It was a local showcase. Some heavy bands were playing, a bunch of big dudes moshing. And here I was, 14 years old, scrawny and scared, and I stood in the back. I stood in the horseshoe. Alright, I was afraid to get up here. I was nervous. And that was kind of how it was for me for the first few shows that I came to here. I didn't really know anybody. Until I did.

And I think that's what I really learned here was community, because the more that I showed up, the more I saw familiar faces, the more those familiar faces knew me, the bigger my community got and the more comfortable I felt. Getting closer to the front of the room, getting closer and closer and closer until I was right up here. I've had a lot of firsts in this room. First time stage diving. I jumped right up there and I jumped right off here. First time crowd surf, first time moshing. Consequently, the first time getting the **** kicked out of me while moshing all right here, right? I feel like I grew up in this room. I feel like I spent so much time here, so many formative hours, that this place feels like home. And I know I'm not alone when I say that. I know that you all feel similarly. This place feels like home. So to lose it feels like we're losing a part of ourselves, right?

Going back to those earlier years. I continued coming to shows here. Until I felt like I wanted to be involved on a deeper level, this is around the time I was 18 or 19 years old and we decided that we wanted to form a band, that we wanted to give it our best, right? And we told ourselves when Movements first started, we said, you know what, We'll be happy. We'll feel like we've made it if someday we can headline Chain Reaction and sell out. If our career had ended at that moment with one sold out show at Chain Reaction, we would have been satisfied. We would have made it. That was how we felt. That's how special this place is to us. And I know that that's how you all feel as well. It's how special this place is to you. There's something to be said about that. I think there are very, very few spaces in the country, if not the world, that have an energy and have a community like we've built here. And I want to take a second to acknowledge and thank all the people who have helped build that space.

So first of all, Andy Serreo, owner and operator. Andy, you saw our band play our very first show and not only did you watch us play, but you saw something in US. You believed in our band. You gave us a shot. Like chain reaction is given to so many bands over the last 30 years. You gave us our first shot and we would be honestly nothing if it weren't for you. Being in the vision and seeing us and Andy thank you so ******* much for having the space and putting on these shows. You are such an integral piece of this community and it does not go unnoticed. We ******* love you. Make some noise for anything please. Second, I want to thank Cody Demavivas. Cody was our first manager. He was a promoter here. He put us on our first show here. The first few shows we played actually were very much because of him. And we just love him, man. We ******* love Cody and we love Andy. They're just such, they're such important pieces of, of this whole thing. Cody, thank you so ******* much.

Zooming out a little bit. I want to thank every sound engineer who's ever worked in that back booth back there. I want to thank every single lighting tech who's ever done the lights back there. I want to thank every single person who's ever worked the box office. Every security guard. Every bartender. Every person who's ever sold mech in the hell hole that is that ******* back room corner. I wanna thank the promoters who put on these shows, man, the people who got these bands on on this stage. I know that every single one of us has had probably one of our favorite shows of all time here. And that's because promoters saw how special this place was. Regardless of if they were from here or not, they put their bands on this stage every chance they could get. And that's something that you shouldn't take for granted. Man, we have such a ******* amazing scene in Southern California. Amazing scene. Don't take that **** for granted.

I want to thank all of you. I want to thank all of you for being here tonight. I want to thank you all for coming to shows here over the last however many years you've been coming to shows here. Because ultimately, like I said, what we built here is a community. Nothing that you see of here happens without you all building this community, right? Not a single ******* thing. You made history here, we made history here, and it will not be forgotten. Do not take it for granted.

I know this has been a lot longer than 5 minutes. I'm really sorry. I'm trying. I'm trying to wrap up .Look, we're saying goodbye to Chain tonight. We are. It sucks. It hurts. I don't want to do it, but it's what we're going to do. But I'll never forget the time that I spent here. I'll never take those hours for granted. It's something that I'm gonna carry with me for the rest of my ******* life. And I hope that you carry it with you as well. We can't take it with you, but you can take it with you. You understand me?”

I’ll let you all interpret that how you need to. Personally, Patrick really pulled at a heartstring with that one. How could I ever say anything that explains it better? Chain Reaction is a place of complete safety for music lovers, a space where we are fully ourselves, a palace where we can exist in our own world and nobody, absolutely nobody, needs to understand but us. These past two days were a moment in history, and every single one of us was part of it. Whether you were capturing photos, filming videos, physically there, or watching from home, it all counts. Everything counts. Love your people. Find strength in this home. Do not let Chain fade.

The night ended and feelings poured into the streets. Tears were shed, but heads were still held high, and smiles continued still spread as people exited the building. This was it. The end, right? Maybe not exactly.

After getting caught trying to pull a fast one on Chain, a band ended up getting the okay for one more final touch for the night. GM Kevin's words were "It's the last day of school, f-- it." and it was these words that gave one more group, just one more time to take the torch.

As people poured out into the night, one final surprise was waiting, and it felt almost too perfect to be accidental. My Last Goodbye stood posted up outside, U Haul packed and humming, ready to send off the crowd that stayed for those few moments anyway. A circle closed in around the band as they ripped through a four song, wish granted set in the parking lot, concrete shaking under everyone’s worn shoes. No barricade, no stage lights, just amps, bodies, and that familiar aspiration. A very punk, very old school nightcap.

Chain allowed one last band to play on its grounds, not-yet a massive name, not-yet a legacy act, but a new one. A band standing exactly where so many before them once stood, on the edge of something bigger, carrying the weight of what this place has always meant.

My Last Goodbye was, technically, the final band to ever play Chain Reaction, and that feels poetic. A venue built on possibility, dreams, and first chances closed its doors by giving one more band theirs. As the final moshers threw their last punches and voices cracked through the cold air, just like that, the era ended. But the dream did not.

R.I.P. Chain. All of us love you.

Jesse Barnett (Stick To Your Guns):

“The fact that we get to play our last night here at Chain with these bands, with these people I grew up wishing I could be is absolutely amazing.”

Andrew Rose (Stick To Your Guns):

“I think for so many kids in this county and cities it is where we learned about punk and hardcore and metalcore music. It is just like home, it is home for so many people and it is very sad to see it go for sure.”

Thrice (official Facebook post):

“It’s difficult to put into words how crucial Chain Reaction was to our development…”

Greg Katz (Cheekface, LA Times):

“Chain taught me how to love independent music. It taught me how to be part of an indie scene. I learned to love local bands and to support touring bands… It’s really sad that it’s leaving Orange County without an obvious replacement.”