Hardcore finds a way: For the Rezkids 2025 benefit brought 1,000 fans to boxing gym

All year long, I’d been seeing flyers and posts advertising hardcore shows at Kingdom Boxing Gym, but with an already packed concert schedule, I couldn’t make it happen. This time, everything finally aligned. 

The result was For the Rezkids 2025, a benefit show featuring Native American hardcore bands from New Mexico, California, Texas and Arizona.

Admission was purposeful and straightforward: a new, unwrapped toy or a $20 cover to benefit Native American youth. Many people brought both, reinforcing that this wasn’t just another show, but a community effort.

Roughly 1,000 fans turned out, and it didn’t take long to realize this was something special. A boxing ring repurposed as a stage, set up in a parking lot, immediately set the tone. 

The hardcore genre thrives in unconventional spaces, and this one felt like a perfect fit. Shoutout to the 6-foot-tall, 15-year-old kid who helped keep me and my vintage film camera safe from flying windmills and kicks near the front during each set.

By definition, the show was pure DIY, and that’s part of its charm. A shared drum kit, shared guitar and bass cabinets, bands just brought their amps, guitars, and sticks and let it rip. There was no real stage production to speak of, and none was needed. The only lighting came from the exterior lights of the gym itself. 

Since its inception, hardcore has always found homes in house parties, warehouses, basements, and parking lots. This show fit perfectly into that lineage. It even brought to mind the infamous Denny’s show from 2013, a reminder that hardcore has never waited for permission.

Throughout the night, conversations with attendees reinforced the importance of shows like this. I met a recent Arizona transplant from Denver who told me he came specifically because the idea of a show at a boxing gym was too good to pass up. Others I spoke with were under 18 and genuinely excited that something like this was happening in their part of town. 

One person put it: “It’s not always easy to get to the Nile.” Having a venue that hosts all-ages hardcore shows in South Phoenix, even if only once a month, makes the scene more accessible.

Phoenix’s own Incision kicked off the night with zero hesitation, pure momentum from the first note. Their set launched a nine-band lineup that never let up. And while the setting might lead some to underestimate the bands, history says otherwise. 

Not long ago, groups like Drain and Kublai Khan were playing basement and parking lot shows just like this. Now, Drain is selling out the Marquee, and Kublai Khan is set to open for Lamb of God in early 2026. Bands with deep hardcore roots, like Turnstile, are earning Grammy nominations. Hardcore has traveled far from its humble beginnings, though it has never abandoned them. Black Flag and Bad Brains were doing this same kind of DIY work back in the ’70s.

I also spoke with Deran Martinez, Desert Division promoter and guitarist for Sacred Path. He explained that about a year ago, the owner of Kingdom Boxing opened the parking lot for weekend shows, thanks in part to gym members who are also hardcore fans and promoters. “It’s important for these kids to have a safe place,” Martinez said. “A drug- and alcohol-free space where everyone is accepted and can get a sense of community. Not every kid is a Taylor Swift or K-pop fan.”

Standing there, it was hard to disagree. Despite the aggressive dancing, the two-stepping, the windmills, it was never hostile. If anything, the atmosphere was welcoming and supportive. People were there to release stress from school or work, to feel part of something bigger. You could sense the community that had been built, improbably but perfectly, outside a boxing gym.

As for the music itself, every band delivered. Seeing Texas hardcore act Lie in this setting felt especially fitting. Sure, the sound could’ve been tighter, maybe a few more lights wouldn’t have hurt, but hardcore has always been a little dirty around the edges. Loud. Raw. Aggressive. And honest.

In the end, For the Rezkids 2025 wasn’t about polish or production. It was about intention, accessibility and connection. Hardcore didn’t just survive here — it flourished, once again proving that no matter the limitations, it will always find a way.

More photos from the For the Rezkids benefit show: