Four years ago, Joyce Manor released what was the newest addition to their discography (shoutout to the band’s 2022 full length, 40 oz. to Fresno) and embarked on a celebratory slew of headlining shows. For fans of the Torrance-based punk rockers, 2026 brings reason to celebrate once more with the release of the band’s brand new record, I Used To Go To This Bar, and a North American headlining tour to match.

Just last weekend, the main room of The Fillmore buzzed with anticipation as Philadelphia’s loyal Joyce Manor supporters waited for the band to present I Used To Go To This Bar in its near entirety live. Staring at the crowd was fuel for that anticipation in the form of 10 white letters that haphazardly adorned the black banner backdrop: J-O-Y-C-E M-A-N-O-R. The energy in the room shifted as a series of lights swirled around the band-inspired alphabet soup, excitement bursting at the seams as it escaped into the room in the form of a unanimous cheer — a cheer that transformed into an explosion the moment vocalist Barry Johnson, guitarist Chase Knobbe, and bassist Matt Ebert, alongside touring guitarist Neil Berthier and drummer Jared Shavelson, arrived.

The band kicked the night off with “I Know Where Mark Chen Lives,” the very first track of the new record. Immediately, bodies flew up and toward the front of the room as fans of all ages, including a kid who couldn’t have been more than 10 years old (and should’ve been crowned Crowdsurfing MVP for his spirit), jumped at the opportunity to be a part of the new record in their own way. It was a warm welcome for the band’s new era and a confirmation that everyone was ready for all it had to offer.

“Heart Tattoo” from 2014’s Never Hungover Again was a reward for old fans and the room’s reaction continued to serve as a motion-driven love letter addressed to Joyce Manor being written in real time. Crowd surfers pulsed above finger-pointing participants as they chanted the cherished pop-punk sing-along, twelve years proving no match for the thousands of people reveling in the band’s blood-pumping appeal that evening.

The title track of I Used To Go To This Bar was a mellower, but just as earwormy sing-along that moved everyone to sing and sway to the bittersweet revisitation of the past, the places that were once routine, and the people that continue to live in the memory of them. The magic of this song was the warmth that poked through the poignancy. With the bounce of the guitars and company of others at the ready, everyone was given permission to float through what was knowing they’d be pulled back into the comfort of those repeating, and feeling, all of the same words in the present.

Moving through their set inspired Johnson to start tossing out contextual anecdotes about how each song came to be. This allowed them to unfold like a story on stage. “This song’s about getting abducted by aliens in Philadelphia,” he announced. “I want to see a big fat circle pit for this one.” As the band pumped the increasingly quick notes of “NBTSA” into the air and spun the middle of the crowd into a vortex, teal and orange lights blinked above the stage like a spaceship preparing itself to absorb the energy of the room. “This one’s about doing hash drugs with a possum,” Johnson casually stated next to introduce the aptly named “The Oppossum.” In that moment, the one-eyed knife-wielding possum on the front of the band’s drums became a main character on stage as his abrasive nature due to previous experiences (‘He had a prison past, so you know you don’t want none’) was playfully illustrated.

The band continued to weave this subtle sense of humor into their performance which gave the entire night an ease akin to joking around with close friends. “Give it up for Chase! He went to Harvard for harmonica,” Johnson cheered after “Well, Don’t It Seem Like You’ve Been Here Before?” Joke or not, we all followed suit and cheered for Knobbe’s Ivy League-ranking harmonic experience as if it were the truest experience he’d had.

It wasn’t just light-hearted humor that made seeing Joyce Manor special, but the genuine sentiments the band openly shared with the room. Here, Johnson took a moment to express his appreciation for the band’s loved ones in attendance that night. As he listed name after name, the personal community Johnson, Knobbe, and Ebert had built around themselves was evident. “Much love to all of our friends,” Johnson shared before letting the somber strums of “All My Friends Are So Depressed” take the reins.

Next, Johnson took the opportunity to express his appreciation for the wider-spread community that came to be thanks to the band. “Anyone see us at the church?” he asked in reference to First Unitarian, a beloved church basement-turned venue made for witnessing live music history before the bands that play there often and inevitably graduate to larger spaces. “This one goes out to the OGs” he continued before ripping into the swift and gritty “Housewarming Party.” The chaos continued just as it had all evening, proof of the everlasting support that has surrounded the band and enabled them to reach new heights over the years.

Those new heights never deterred the band from recognizing the parts of their past that fans continue to feel great fondness for though. It only took the first few notes of “Constant Headache” from 2013’s S/T for the room to descend into madness, bodies heaving themselves upward and voices clinging onto every last word of the classic Joyce Manor anthem. Cue anthem two: “This one’s called…” Johnson teased with a pause as he let the anticipation of the set’s next song title dangle in the air. When he finished his sentence with “…Catalina Fight Song!” the crowd erupted before launching the power of its collective voice into the room once more as the end of the evening drew near.

The band still had an encore left in them, but the additional act quickly began to take shape in an unexpected way. “Someone has a sign here, it says play ‘The Jerk.’ We’re just gonna do a little bit of band practice here,” Johnson said as they all started to take an impromptu trip down memory lane to their beloved 2014 record once more before inviting us all to come along with them. “We didn’t practice this one but we’re going to play it special for Philly.” And special it was considering it was the first and only time it had been played on the tour up until that night.

As we waited for the band to introduce the next song, a surprise gift made its way to the stage. “Tequila! How much do I owe you? I got you after this set.” Johnson exclaimed as he looked out to the crowd to catch a glimpse of the person that sent him the drink. Then he looked out to all of the faces staring back at him, a gift in its own right, and warmly raised the glass to share the moment with them. “Cheers everybody,” he said before pulling out a fan favorite from the record (and, I feel as though it’s important to add, one of filmmaker James Gunn’s favorite songs of 2025), “Well, Whatever It Was.” 

The band admitted that they were going to cut the next song for having played “The Jerk,” but that they were having too much fun to skip “Orange Julius.” Johnson then joked that they were going to stay for 13 more songs to which the crowd roared as if making enough noise could make that joke a reality and give everyone the opportunity to hold onto the night just a little bit longer. But alas, the final song of the night arrived. The crowd gave the band its all one last time as a massive circle pit began to form the moment “Five Beer Plan” exploded into its fast-paced frenzy. Heads whooshed around and bodies whizzed by in a blur, the speed of the room’s core continuing to feed off of the undeniable spark that is Joyce Manor. And there is simply no better way for a Joyce Manor show to end than that.