Eddie Spaghetti of the Supersuckers, a band whose name evokes missteps, rebellion, and the unmistakable scent of defiance, brought his unique brand of acoustic punk rock to Troy on March 9th. The venue? Hanger on the Hudson, an unassuming dive bar with a punk character all its own.

Church pews and retired theater seats sporadically lined the room, offering a mix of seating that allowed patrons to relax while still leaving enough space for the music to wash over them. It was the kind of place you wouldn’t expect to find punk royalty, but somehow, it worked.

When Eddie Spaghetti, wearing his black cowboy hat, acoustic guitar and punked-out denim jacket, stepped onto the stage, it was evident that you were about to experience something pure and unfiltered. The sound of that opening chord reverberated through the room. While no mosh pits broke out, there was an undeniable energy in the air for this unplugged session—horns raised, middle fingers proudly displayed and bodies swaying, lost in the music.

Spaghetti’s gravelly voice, raw and dripping with emotion, sang—a not-so-gentle reminder of what punk rock truly is: unapologetic anthems about love, loss, and living hard.

But Eddie Spaghetti isn’t just about revisiting the past. His set included a new track debut, “Problems,” from The Supersuckers’ forthcoming new album. He explained it was about his personal “bullshit”—the stuff that never seems to pass. It was a sentiment that resonated with the crowd in the most genuine and honest of ways.

The standout moments came from songs like “Doublewide,” “Til I Die,” and “Roadworn and Weary,” delivered with the ferocity and grit you’d expect from a seasoned rock band, yet with a sense of wisdom that comes with age.

What was perhaps most surprising was the sparse crowd for a show featuring not just Eddie, but also “Metal” Marty Chandler, his Supersuckers bandmate. For all the energy and history packed into that room, it was shocking to see so few people show up to witness 2/3’s of the self-proclaimed “Greatest Rock and Roll Band in the World.”

Yet, the intimacy of the show, with only a few handfuls scattered about the floor and pews, felt right. This wasn’t a packed-out stadium show; this was a night for the diehards, the true fans. Hanger on the Hudson might not be where you’d expect to find such a pedigree, but it turned out to be the perfect venue for this stripped-down acoustic punk rock performance—cheap beer, music in its rawest form and a vibe that only a small, unpolished venue can offer.

In the end, the night was more than just a concert. It was a reminder of everything punk truly is —a celebration of aging, of wisdom and still telling the world “FUCK YOU”—but with a bit more caution and care. A middle finger to the status quo, yes, but one that carries with it more reflection.