Zao’s recent St. Paul stop was less a concert and more a sonic brawl—a sweaty, unpolished, beautiful mess of noise and emotion. Born in the mid-90s metalcore scene, Zao has survived countless lineup changes, shifts in sound, and the collapse of more than one record label. Yet nearly 30 years later, these five middle-aged veterans still play with the urgency of a band with everything on the line.
The setting was as unpretentious as it gets: an American Legion basement with the lights fully on, a stage barely knee-high, and no barrier between band and crowd. There were no in-ear monitors, no click tracks, no backing tracks—just amps, drums, and pure chaos. The walls were literally sweating from the heat of a packed room gone feral. It’s hard to believe that the same space that often hosts quiet meals for elderly Legion members can transform into a pit of violence and filthy sweat, and we loved every second of it.
Opening with The Final Ghost and If These Scars Could Speak, Zao instantly pulled the crowd into their signature mix of heaviness and emotion. Every song—whether the brooding weight of “Ship of Theseus,” the unrelenting “It’s Hard Not to Shake With a Gun in Your Mouth,” or the classic, “Savannah”—hits with precision and primal force.
Frontman Dan Weyandt roared with the conviction of someone still exorcising demons, while Scott Mellinger and Marty Lunn locked in tight, delivering crushing riffs with relentless energy.” Drummer Jeff Gretz set the pace for every song, playing with the power and stamina of someone half his age, and Russ Cogdell, long known for his unpredictable stage presence, looked utterly possessed—drooling, licking his guitar, and staring out as though he was channeling something from another realm. The crowd fed that energy back in spades, with unrestrained moshing, hardcore dancing, and screaming into Dan’s mic.
By the time 5 Year Winter and The Ghost Psalm closed the night, the room felt less like a venue and more like a shared act of catharsis. No pyrotechnics. No glossy production. Just a raw, dangerous, unforgettable reminder that Zao’s relevance comes not from nostalgia—but from the fact they still mean every single note they play.
