From the fast-paced crowds of McDonald’s to the gyms of Whittier, KnuckleHeadz Punk Rock Fight Club is changing lives

KnuckleHeadz may be just the thing that saves America’s youth. They’re very accurately labeled as a punk band from Whittier, but they’re actually a movement: Southern California’s most raucous self-help and hardcore band. The members are built like dock workers and dress like a deleted scene from the movie “The Warriors”: black and green leather jackets with a back patch in the shape of a spiky-haired skull. They are also the driving force behind Punk Rock Fight Club, a Southern California-based organization dedicated to improving the lives of youth through fitness and structure. The rules are as strict as they are simple, and in this upside-down world, they are truly radical: no hard drugs, no crime, no racists, and no abusers. Respect yourself, your brothers and your community.

KnuckleHeadz achieved a moment of internet fame after hosting a completely unauthorized show on Reassuring McDonald’s For a hundred people. The ubiquitous supply clip is a convenient entry point, but it is short selling what the masters have built. On stage, the KnuckleHeadz are full of sweat and spectacle: profanity-laced breakdowns, throngs of fans surfing on boogie boards riding a human tide, and the green-and-black army in the pit pulling strangers upright. The absurdity of the fast food pit – corpses and burgers briefly flying through the air – suggests chaos. Look closely and you’ll see the choreography: men catching falls, clearing space and enforcing the rules. Punk has always promised salvation through noise. KnuckleHeadz adds a footnote: Salvation requires actors, rules, and someone who means enough to care. Offstage, they manage infrastructure to survive.

Founded in June 2021 by Thomas Tillis of Whittier, known as Knucklehead Tom, and with the help of guitarist and tattoo maker Steven Arceo, also known as Big Saus, of El Monte, the Punk Rock Fight Club (PRFC) has grown in just a few years to six chapters and over 200 members across Southern California. What started as a tight circle around a band turned into a movement: discipline for kids who never had it, structure for men who needed it, and a society free of drug abuse. Prospects work their way through a morning, sweat, and commit before being trusted with a back-skull patch. The bases read like a brick wall and act as an entrance.

Knucklehead Tom said: “I started the club because I wanted to do good in the scene, I wanted to create a tribe where we all supported each other, a family for people from all walks of life, especially those who came from broken homes. I wanted people to know they had a place to go and a family they could count on.”

I first met KnuckleHeadz and a few club members by chance three years ago at a London train station on their way to the Rebellion Punk Rock Music Festival in Blackpool, an annual event featuring over 300 established and emerging bands. They were impossible to miss – part wolf pack, part brotherhood, pure energy. That year the KnuckleHeadz struck a chord with me, not only with their inclusive, no-holds-barred performance, but also with their message, their clear love for each other, and their mission to better their community. Since then, I’ve taken a closer look at both the band and the club; I visited their gym and attended many of their shows. I have met and spoken with families and those who have been helped by KnuckleHeadz and the club. They have, in many cases, actually worked miracles. But men do not call them miracles. They call it Tuesday.

The band’s rise reflects the club’s reach: a steady rise from underground slots to punk’s biggest stages. They earned a spot on the final NOFX show and graduated from Rebellion’s side stage to the festival’s main stage. They organize benefits for causes that don’t trend and for people who can’t be causes. The Punk Rock Museum in Las Vegas recently added a piece of PRFC memorabilia, one of the club’s pieces — a leather jacket with a skull-shaped back patch — to its collection, a veritable museum piece that still has a slight sweaty feel to it. Next up, KnuckleHeadz are gearing up for a US tour with punk legends GBH, a tour that turns rumors into an autobiography.

The Whittier dojo, KnuckleHead Martial Arts, is where the KnuckleHeadz code becomes practical. It is where men conduct martial arts training and where mats perform double duty as the floor of a community center. During the band’s “F Cancer” benefit for 17-year-old Cesar “Little Cesar” Lopez II, the aisle became an impromptu slam pit. Inside, children rolled on carpets while guitars shook the walls. Families brought food, local businesses donated services, and more than $6,000 was allocated for treatment. In the carnival-like atmosphere outside, Little Cesar smiled and lit up the pit from the sideline, proving that joy, like violence, can be contagious.

One member, Bernard Schindler, 55, of La Mirada, came after a life of relapse: rehab, prison, relapse, repetition. The club gave him a first and second schedule going forward, and now with the support of the club, he has been clean and sober for over two years.

“Tom and the Punk Rock Fight Club have completely turned my life around,” Schindler said. “He gave me purpose, discipline and a new family of brothers who pushed me to be better. I went from a deteriorating drug addict to the healthiest I have ever been mentally, physically and emotionally in the 55 years I have been alive.”

Since joining KnuckleHeadz nearly three years ago, Schindler says he’s grown closer to his family, including his three sons and girlfriend, in addition to staying sober. “I can honestly say I wouldn’t have been able to do it without Tom and our God-given club, Punk Rock Fight Club,” he said.

Sure, the PRFC trophy case is full of medals and trophies, but the real achievements are much quieter and more miraculous. There are pay slips where there used to be rap sheets, and threads of text that begin with the question “Are you good?” It’s 3:17 a.m., and the apartment keys are handed over when the child can’t come home.

Synth-punk hip-hop artist N8NOFACE, now a fixture on the lineups at the annual Los Angeles Cruel World Tour festival with Limp Bizkit and Corey Feldman, calls Tom his “brother” and credits the icon with keeping him in sync. “I was in recovery, and I always believed that if you followed the right people, it would help you stay on your way,” N8 says. “Tom was talking about health, about not getting caught up in things, about being a fighter and a warrior and taking care of your body first. Finding that in punk was completely different.”

When asked about his hopes for the band’s future, Tom said: “I just want to enjoy myself. We love doing this and are grateful for all the love and support.” The band is currently playing shows across SoCal with Gutter Punk legends GBH, including a Friday show at Ventura Music Hall.

“With the club, I want to keep changing my life. It makes me happy to know that my son Nico has an army of good uncles if anything happens to me. The good guys at this club make me very proud.”

This is the trick. This is the point. In the noise among those realities, many young people hear something they never believed in before: a future they are allowed to keep.

slaughter He is a photographer and writer who has covered music and culture for countless outlets, including OC Weekly and L.A. times. He is a founding member of In Spite magazine.