REVIEW - "The Person I Am Today": A night out with "Downeast Hardcore"
"Dying Mind" performing at the "Downeast Hardcore" screening at Geno's Rock Club
Throughout the night, the audience heard one phrase over and over again. But the repetition wasn’t something that grew increasingly obnoxious, like a fire alarm going off. Instead, it was comforting, like the continuous crashing of waves against the shore.
The phrase was, “I would not be the person I am today if it weren’t for Kathy Kave.”
Geno’s Rock Club in Portland hosted a screening of the documentary “Downeast Hardcore - Stories from The Kave” on Aug. 8. Created by local filmmaker Ricky Leighton, the film details Kathy Findlay — aka Kathy “Kave” — who owned and operated a DIY, chem-free music venue in Bucksport, Maine. It grew from a place to celebrate music to a home for disillusioned youth around the area. If you’re unfamiliar with the story, we spoke with Leighton about the film in advance of its premiere at the 2026 Maine International Film Festival.
The doors opened at 6 p.m., and the film screening started at 7 p.m. By the time I stepped foot in the venue at 7:01 p.m., not only had all the seats filled up in the concert room, but almost two dozen people were standing at the entrance back by the bar. The audience stood on their tiptoes or straddled the rungs on the barstool. Even Kitty, the owner of Geno's, climbed a step stool when she could afford time to peek over the patrons' heads at the screen.
On the other side of the room, the pool table was covered in old flyers, posters, and tour shirts provided either by Findlay herself or some of the frequent flyers at the venue, affectionately known as “Kave Kids.” As one audience member pointed out during the Q&A session following the screening, there was a tour shirt from the Pennsylvania-based band Title Fight, where the dates covered shows at big cities like Philadelphia, San Diego, Houston, etc. But contrasted between the band’s Montreal and Worcester, Mass. dates was Bucksport, a visual representation of the venue’s black sheep identity.
After browsing this DIY historical exhibit, I slumped into a barstool, furiously browsing my email for an advanced screener’s copy of the documentary that Leighton had sent me. It took me a few minutes and several squats on the chair for any visual cues I could see over the audience, but I was finally able to sync the audio projecting over the house monitors with the video on my phone.
The screening
The documentary focuses on Findlay’s incredible relationship with the local Bucksport kids even before any of them had played a note at The Kave. Kathy, who worked as an occupational therapist at a local middle school, had gone out of her way to become familiar with hardcore music, driving kids — some of whom were as young as 10 and 11 years old — to shows around coastal Maine, and filming everything with a large camera she carried around with her. The footage relies heavily on archives taped on VHS, which must be a trip for anyone born after the turn of the millennium.
The film's talking heads include Kave Kids, local and national hardcore acts that had performed there, and Findlay herself. They cover everything from the cultural identity of Bucksport to the breakdown of hardcore music and mosh pit etiquette to The Kave’s evolution as a touring spot for national acts like Agnostic Front, Slapshot, and Hatebreed.
As the film goes on, some of the biggest pops belong to locals recounting stories from The Kave. Each time a new person graced the screen at Geno's, a small yip shot out or a nostalgic laugh rumbled from the audience.
Interestingly, in the documentary's third act, the talking heads analyze the frequency of turnover for Maine's music venues. But an unexpected swerve comes when Findlay mentions that, in 2016, she was diagnosed with leukemia. With a 17 percent chance of survival, she closed The Kave to focus on her health. Many of those interviewed in the film speak about how their fear for Findlay's life was the final chapter of the venue's history. It's one of the most remarkable twists conducted in the music documentary.
Aside from the occasional drunken tourist loudly hollering about why a punk club was screening a movie on a Saturday night, the audience politely stared forward, refusing to miss a single second of the action. The energy mirrored any new exhibit opening at the Maine Historical Society, except with more beer and body piercings involved.
The Q&A session
After a brief intermission, Leighton and Findlay took the stage for a Q&A session. On the high-top table between them sat two microphones and a jack-o-lantern with a fake flame rippling out of its head.
The Q&A was curated by Jessica Harvey, who served as a producer on Leighton’s film. Before opening the floor to the audience, Harvey pitched a couple of questions herself. She brought up that Findlay was one of the few women in the aughts putting on DIY shows, and wondered what her thoughts were.
“Honestly, I hadn’t thought much about that at the time,” she said. “I was more focused on the kids, and giving them a space to be who they are.”
The weight of her influence swelled once the audience started sharing stories about The Kave. Numerous fans asked for the mic and told hilarious stories about making pizza to feed the fans and add a little income into the venue's non-existent profit margin; the impeccable brownies that Findlay baked and brought to shows; and behind-the-scenes anecdotes about their favorite shows, name-dropping some of the headliners.
But there were also touching moments. Members of bands past and present shared how an opportunity to perform at The Kave made it possible to tour the United States and Europe. Others shared personal stories of their broken homes, and how Findlay had become a second mother to them. Shockingly, no one cried, but it was also hard to tell for sure with everyone's face melting with sweat in the humid concert hall.
The Q&A ceased, and Harvey asked that the audience help move the chairs out of the general admission area before the bands took the stage. Like the days of old, everyone jumped at the chance.
The afterparty show
Once the chairs were cleared and cigarettes were smoked, the event closed out with three bands, all products of The Kave: Corrective Measure, Dying Mind, and Mortar.
Corrective Measure kicked off the show… literally, there were kicks flying in the air as the band paid tribute to Findlay’s influence on them. Several of the Kave Kids made appearances on stage to perform with Corrective Measure, while lead singer Braden exercised his right to dance during his own band's set.
Next was Dying Mind, who brought a sludgier, black-metal sound to the stage. The guttural vocals and crushing instrumentation vibed well with Geno’s horror-themed interior decoration. The skeleton lording over the stage clouded the band and audience, protecting them with metal and death.
By the time of Mortar’s set, the enthusiastic crowd was struggling to catch its breath. The audience — predominantly in their 30s, 40s, and 50s — had emotion and energy gushing out of them since the first few seconds of the movie. Mortar’s singer called out to the audience with a plea that almost certainly had never been said in The Kave in its 15-year existence.
“We know it’s late, we know you’re tired, and you’ve gotta get up tomorrow,” he barked. “But let’s do this for The Kave!”
It’s easy to forget that the Kave Kids are adults now. They’re married, working day jobs, raising families. At one point, I had to look over a little girl with giant pink headphones sitting at one of the bar tables so I could shoot footage of five sweaty men two-stepping as hard as they could in the pit.
Admittedly, I stayed for the first Mortar song to take a quick video and then left. It was just after 11:00 p.m., way past my bedtime, and I had to get up at 6 a.m. the next morning. But, out of respect, I listened to their music in my car on the way home. Mostly at a reasonable volume because, unfortunately, that’s the person I am today, too.