DRUG CHURCH x WHITE REAPER in Asheville, NC
Schedule
Fri May 08 2026 at 07:00 pm to 11:00 pm
UTC-04:00Location
10 Buxton Avenue, Asheville, North Carolina 28801, United States | Asheville, NC
Eulogy Presents: Drug Church, White Reaper, Spy & Public OpinionFri, May 8th, 2026
Eulogy - 10 Buxton Ave. Asheville, NC 28801
Doors 6PM || Show 7PM
**Drug Church**
Drug Church is #1, so why try harder? Truer words may have never been spoken (or emblazoned upon merch that may or may not reference a novelty shirt seen on a 1998 Fatboy Slim album cover). For over a decade, Drug Church have been building a very strong case that they’re the best loud guitar band in the game; their fifth full-length PRUDE–a 28-minute blast of aggression, melody, irreverence, and genuine heart–feels like the undeniable proof. The album is so downright satisfying it tricks you into thinking there’s nothing all that surprising about a difficult-to-pigeonhole punk band from Albany, NY, with a name like Drug Church somehow having a career at all, much less one that would last over 10 years and qualify them as the best band going. But before you start trying to think of who might have them beat (good luck), consider what just might be the key to Drug Church’s unexpected staying power: Don’t take it too seriously.
“I think at this point I’m at peace with the fact that I’m not a musician–I’m a band guy,” laughs vocalist Patrick Kindlon. “I’m just a guy in a band. It works because there’s a drive to express myself and we’re good enough at this that we’re allowed to do it–but I’m never gonna try to sell myself as a person that’s pushing boundaries or is super clever. I make music because I enjoy it.” This ‘the mystique is that there is no mystique’ mentality isn’t so much a guiding principle as it is a dose of honesty. In a world where everyone is telling you how game-changing their material is, part of what makes Drug Church so special is that they seem to be extraordinarily good at being themselves. The band–Kindlon, guitarists Nick Cogan and Cory Galusha, bassist Pat Wynne, and drummer Chris Villeneuve–arrived fully-formed in 2011 with a singular amalgamation of eye-popping aggression, bulletproof hooks, and incisive lyricism, and rather than reinventing themselves on every record, they’ve simply aimed to get better and better at a sound they can actually call their own. “Doing something really leftfield isn’t really our ambition,” Kindlon explains. “The goal is to put out good records that sound like we do–we’re not trying to do an OK Computer. But I do think that when you just do something well, you hit a point where people think they have a complete understanding of who you are.”
Of course, in true Drug Church fashion, PRUDE rejects that kind of oversimplification, instead demanding attention and keeping it through sheer force of will. Produced and engineered by longtime collaborator Jon Markson, the album makes it very clear that Drug Church haven’t stopped pushing themselves and still have more than a few tricks up their collective sleeve. PRUDE begins with the 20-second misdirect of a far away guitar that introduces “Mad Care.” The song then suddenly launches into the kind of hyper-catchy mix of hardcore and ‘90s alternative at which Drug Church’s instrumentalists excel, while Kindlon (with his signature roar that’s halfway between singing and barking and somehow just as hooky as Cogan’s earworm guitar leads) spits out a portrait of bad circumstances and even worse choices.
Kindlon’s ability to walk a tightrope between harrowing, hilarious, and heartfelt is crucial to Drug Church’s alchemy, but for someone whose writing style is perhaps most known for being cuttingly sardonic, PRUDE unexpectedly leans into that third H. “I’m hesitant to say this album is more emotional, but I think there’s definitely some emotional songs on the record,” he explains. “I wanted to avoid some of the topics I’ve been hammering for years, but I almost can’t, I’m limited to what interests me, or upsets me, or grabs my attention. So there’s certainly classic Drug Church stuff–people derailing their lives, a strong pull to some type of individualism, frustration with mob mentality, this idea that maybe community isn't what it’s sold as–but I would say that this album approaches it from sort of a sad storytelling way. This one feels more earnest to me.”
No song better exemplifies this than “Hey Listen,” with lyrics that describe seeing a missing persons bulletin in the Walmart near the remote recording studio where the band made PRUDE. “This idea that there’s just a class of children that’s not even considered, it’s just very upsetting to me,” Kindlon says. “The notion that you could be not even a runaway, but a throwaway kid–that you could go missing and someone wouldn’t even look into it for a week.” It’s a dark and deeply affecting song juxtaposed by some of the sunniest guitar lines Cogan and Galusha have put in a Drug Church song.
Throughout PRUDE, the band continuously pull off this core magic trick: messy characters and knotty ideas delivered through massive hooks. See “Slide 2 Me,” where they forcefully push these elements towards opposite poles to phenomenal result: the story of a botched liquor store robbery wrapped in a guitar riff that would make Stephan Jenkins jealous and Kindlon’s delivery at its most outright melodic. Or “Business Ethics,” where the singer recounts the inspired-by-true-events hijinks of a drug-fueled self-kidnapping scheme across a song that sounds like Copper Blue performed by Slapshot.
Elsewhere songs like “Chow” and “The Bitters” lament a kind of misguided moralizing and sanctimony. “It just feels like everyone in the past 10 years or so seems to believe they’ve tripped into being right–and with that comes righteousness. So you stand in judgment and come off like an annoying dickhead,” Kindlon laughs. As always with Drug Church, while there’s an ingrained irreverence in his lyrical venting, there’s also a real sense of frustration and sadness around the undeniable callousness that’s seeped into everyday life–and become dismayingly mundane. “You see this in every culture, but particularly in desperate ones,” Kindlon says. “Like in prison culture–you’re looking for the permissible population to abuse. You’re looking for the guy with a charge worse than yours so that you can crack a skull, because cracking skulls is your outlet.”
PRUDE comes to a close with two songs that continue to highlight how far Drug Church have actually come. “Yankee Trails” and “Peer Review” are some of the most anthemic tracks the band have ever written, which is a tall order for a group of musicians who seem to have stage-dive-inducing-shout-along as their default songwriting setting. Both are powered by Wynne and Villeneuve’s thunderous rhythm section, but Cogan and Galusha’s guitars are equal parts distortion and texture, pivoting on a dime between bite and shimmer. On “Yankee Trails,” Kindlon describes a friend’s cross-country struggle to kick a drug habit with the kind of granular detail that rings heartrendingly true, and then on “Peer Review,” he makes it crystal clear that there isn’t an ounce of judgment in this or any of the hard luck stories that populate the album. “I’m just not at all interested in judging people,” he says. “I can have a laugh, I’m not immune to people’s missteps being entertaining, but I have zero interest in filing anyone under good or bad. People seem to want you to die in your mistakes and I just don't share that at all. I think the mistakes people are capable of making is a continuous theme in our work, and maybe we played it for laughs a little more in the past, but I’m a little more somber on it now.”
So is this all indicative of some kinder, gentler Drug Church? Is it clean guitars and sincerity from here? Is this where the edges soften and hard-earned longevity gives way to a slow descent into mediocrity? Of course not. Don’t take it too seriously, don’t overthink it. As the final words of PRUDE say: “Too much time inside your own head / you lost sight of what it is.” It’s Drug Church. They’re #1.
**White Reaper**
For over a decade, White Reaper has been one of modern music’s most satisfying rock bands, reliably reminding listeners how truly rewarding cranked up amps and a good chorus can be. But achieving that kind of longevity is no small feat–it’s a path that’s often full of pitfalls and frustrations no matter how carefree the actual songs might sound. White Reaper have had more than their fair share of ups and downs in recent years and the Louisville, KY-based group’s new album, Only Slightly Empty, finds them overcoming creative blocks, lineup changes, label upheaval, burnout, and more, to push their sound and create the most infectiously entertaining record of their career.
“I think we were on this kind of rocket trajectory for a while but we were also really burning out,” says keyboardist Ryan Hater. “With You Deserve Love \[2019\] we were riding this rollercoaster of what a major label wanted us to do and they were finding success with it. Then the pandemic hit and we were partially like ‘Thank god we can finally have some time off.’ But we had a hard time getting back in the swing of it.” White Reaper’s signature swagger was harder to muster in the midst of lockdowns and uncertainty, and their next album, Asking For A Ride, proved difficult to make. Upon its release in 2023, the band returned to a drastically changed music world where everything that had previously been working now seemed ineffective. “I think we’d sort of found the band in a different place than we’d thought we’d be,” says vocalist/guitarist Tony Esposito. “Not even in terms of success per se, but more like how we’re perceived in the world. I just felt like we were having sort of an identity crisis as a band and I was internalizing that.”
The band regrouped in 2024, aiming to shake off the rust and start writing a new album, but there were still more hurdles in store. During the initial writing and recording process, they parted ways with their rhythm section and left their label in the midst of corporate restructuring–the kinds of shakeups that have stopped plenty of bands dead in their tracks. But sometimes the only way to regain control is to steer into the skid. “I think all of these different tensions were affecting how I was writing,” says Esposito. “Like I was trying to avoid conflict even in the music. But at some point I snapped out of it and remembered it’s supposed to be fun, so let’s just write some great songs.”
With turmoil finally in the rearview, the core group of Esposito, Hater, guitarist Hunter Thompson, and engineer Joey Oaxaca (Hunny, Mamalarky, Rocket, Twen) got back to work with a renewed creative energy. The result finds White Reaper at the top of their game and exploring new musical territory. Only Slightly Empty is packed with the crunchy power pop spirit of the band’s earlier work, but it’s augmented with a grungier wall of sound that’s at times the heaviest and darkest White Reaper have ever sounded–all without ever sacrificing the instant earworm melodies that have always made the group tick. “We did revisit our older stuff to kind of see what made it go,” Esposito explains. “It’s really just melody over chords–that’s the core of it. I think with the last record being written during lockdown, I was just trying to outdo myself writing the craziest possible riffs–versus this time it was more about the songs.”
Only Slightly Empty opens with “Coma,” 106 seconds of distortion-drenched, pressure valve-release that sets the tone for the ensuing record: if White Reaper had hit a wall, they'd now crashed right through it. “I think this song is an admission of this sort of fugue state I’d been in creatively,” says Esposito. “It’s saying ‘What the fuck is going on with me?’ and snapping out of it.” And what follows makes it abundantly clear that Esposito and Co. are back and better than ever. Tracks like “Blink” and “Eraser” are fuzzed-out melody monsters that wouldn’t seem out of place sandwiched between Superdrag and Fountains of Wayne on an episode of 120 Minutes, while “Blue” and “Rubber Cement” delve into downtuned guitars and stormy chord changes that would be flat out moody if not for Esposito’s rowdy delivery. “I think I just have this sort of preschool disposition with melody,” he laughs. “So I can hear Nine Inch Nails or Alice In Chains in my head when I’m trying to make something, but then these kinds of nursery rhyme-like melodies just spin out in a way that’s unique to us.”
Album standout “Honestly” perfectly captures the musical and lyrical heart of Only Slightly Empty. Esposito’s unbeatable knack for catchiness is on full display while leftfield production choices like voice sampling and syncopated keyboard arpeggios pingpong across the speakers. “I do think a lot of this record is about me musically trying to deal with a lot of things that I was feeling but wasn’t talking about,” he explains. “‘Honestly’ is sort of me making fun of myself and my issues with conflict. The verses and choruses are totally opposite messages from each other–like how sometimes you might talk big behind someone’s back but then face to face you get more reserved.” This inward examination reoccurs throughout Only Slightly Empty before coming to a head on “Enemy John,” where Esposito personifies his self-doubt overtop of shimmering phaser guitars and a sky high chorus.
There’s a palpable energy coursing through Only Slightly Empty’s airtight half hour runtime: this is a rejuvenated White Reaper and it shows in the songs. “There’s definitely a fresh start feeling with this record,” says Esposito. “I even have more nerves leading up to people hearing it–I feel like I did back when we were putting out our first music ever. Everything’s so different now but I have that excitement again.” Fittingly, the album ends with “Touch,” an ode to love and loss that sounds as romantic as any power ballad, but is actually about Esposito’s connection to making music. “I wrote it about being younger and starting all of this, and how I thought things would go, and then where it led and where I am now… I’m not even sure what to make of all of it. When you do this–release music and tour for a decade-plus–your relationship with music is going to change and evolve. I think sometimes it loops back to where you started, and sometimes maybe not. This song is about wondering where I am now. If Only Slightly Empty is any indication, ” wherever that may be is somewhere great for White Reaper, and even better for listeners.
Where is it happening?
10 Buxton Avenue, Asheville, North Carolina 28801, United States
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