Common Crime Didn’t Come to Coast

Starting over, sounding sharper, and letting go of perfection

When Alex Leniz moved from Tampa Bay to Philadelphia in the early 2020’s, he wasn’t chasing a scene. He was starting over. Common Crime came out of that reset, a band built around punk roots, melodic instincts, and a need to make songs that feel like they mean something. Since releasing their debut EP Signals & Signs in 2024, they’ve become one of the most promising names in Philly’s underground, doing it without hype or gimmicks. Just songs, sweat, and a clear sense of who they are.

Leniz had been part of the Florida punk and hardcore world for years, fronting bands like The Damnsels and Sick Talk. He cut his teeth writing fast, loud songs that didn’t overthink anything. But when he got to Philadelphia, the goal shifted. He linked up with other local musicians and started writing something a little bigger. Still aggressive, still sharp, but more open. A sound with room to breathe. That’s where Common Crime started to take shape.

“No matter the cost, no matter the hardship, no matter the obstacles, I was going to start the best band I’ve ever been in.”

Their debut EP doesn’t sound like a band figuring things out. Signals & Signs is five tracks that land with purpose. There’s no filler. No intro track. No long ambient outro. It’s all muscle. The record includes their first four singles—“Repressions,” “Call of the Rat,” “Ghosted,” and “Life Preserver”—plus one unreleased cut to round it out. Together, the songs show a band that knows what it wants to be. Emotional without being soft. Hooky without pandering. Loud, but not just for the sake of it.

That clarity didn’t come overnight. Leniz had spent years pouring himself into projects that stalled out, all while balancing long shifts and low ceilings. Music was always there, but something kept it on the margins until he hit a wall he couldn’t ignore.

“I had been working shitty restaurant jobs for 10 years, and doing music on the side,” he says. “Eventually, I reached a breaking point and decided I was really going to attempt to make music my whole life.”

He left Florida with a purpose. No connections, no fallback plan, just a commitment to make something real. “No matter the cost, no matter the hardship, no matter the obstacles, I was going to start the best band I’ve ever been in.”

“I couldn’t believe that song came from my brain.”

Once he got to Philly, the pieces started to fall into place. The new band took shape quickly, pulling in players from the local scene who shared the same vision. There was no illusion about what they were getting into. Everyone knew this would take work. But that was part of the appeal. “Once I started to take myself and my art a little more seriously, I noticed pretty quickly how different this band is from all my previous attempts.”

“Call of the Rat” is the EP’s oldest track. Leniz wrote it years ago and carried it through multiple iterations before it landed with Common Crime. It’s rougher, more volatile than the others, but it belongs. The rest of the record came out of the move north. “Would U Send A Signal?” was the first song he wrote in Philly, and it helped lock in the band’s sound.

“I couldn’t believe that song came from my brain,” Leniz says. “It finally sounded the way it does inside my head!”

Lyrically, he keeps it grounded. He doesn’t write in code. These songs are built around real things—displacement, frustration, emotional drift—but they leave space for the listener. It’s not just about telling his story. It’s about giving people something they can pull into their own.

“I want you to feel what I felt, but also connect it to your own experiences,” he says. “That’s what makes music, at least for me, so unifying.”

The sound pulls from punk and emo, but without leaning too hard on nostalgia. If you listen closely, you’ll hear flashes of Title Fight, Joyce Manor, Alkaline Trio, maybe even early Basement. But nothing here feels derivative. These are songs made by someone who knows the genre inside and out, but isn’t trying to check boxes. The guitars are crisp and aggressive, the vocals are rough but tuneful, and the structure shifts just enough to keep you guessing.

In the studio, they tracked the EP at Soundmine with producer Dan Malsch. He’s worked with bigger-sounding bands like Ghost and Bigwig, and that scale shows. But Common Crime didn’t hand everything over. When the time came to record vocals, they took it into their own hands. Literally.

“We ended up recording the vocals for that EP in the basement of one of our friend’s house... No racing the clock, no trying to impress a big time producer, no pressure to nail it on the first take. We got to have some fun with it, and really take our time to get it right.”

That choice shaped the record’s feel. Signals & Signs sounds massive, but still personal. Like a band trying to fill a room, not a playlist. That push and pull between rawness and control shows up in every decision they make. They’re not chasing perfection. They’re chasing something that sticks.

Since the EP dropped, Common Crime has stayed busy onstage. They’ve played shows across Philly and nearby cities—Fringe Bar, Silk City, Creep Records—and shared the bill with other local standouts like Afloat and Westmain. The sets are tight and high-energy, built around the EP and a few new tracks from their upcoming release. No posturing. No padding. Just good songs, played loud.

The band’s visual identity is coming together, too. The video for “Ghosted” was their first real creative collaboration outside of songwriting. It’s rough around the edges, but that’s the point. “We were surrounded by our friends and just had so much fun putting it together. A lot of the shots in that video were thought of on the fly, so it really was our first time collaborating as a full unit.”

“I don’t think such a thing as a perfect song even exists. I don’t want perfection. I just want to be understood.”

Their next EP, Anywhere But Here, is already in motion. If Signals & Signs was written in the middle of a leap, this new batch sounds like it's looking back. The tone is different. The urgency is still there, but it’s slower-burning — more focused, less reactive.

“It’s not about the fears of ‘how will I make it in this new world with this new life,’” Leniz says. “It’s more so a reflection of the life I lived before, and an affirmation that I made the right choice by moving away.”

He’s already got more songs in the pipeline, some heavier, some more personal, but he’s not rushing them. A few tracks deal with the kind of loss that takes time to process. His childhood dog passed away. His car got stolen. Life kept taking swings in small, unexpected ways. Some of those moments are showing up in new material, but he’s letting those songs come when they’re ready.

As the band evolves, so does the live show. The focus right now is on presence. No big production or gimmicks—just the energy and connection of a band that wants to give people something real.

“We want our fans to be engaged with us throughout the entire concert experience,” Leniz says. “A Common Crime show should feel like an experience that sticks with you, even after it’s over.”

He’s also someone who thinks deeply about the gear. Studio sessions are a chance to experiment, to dial in tone the way some people obsess over lyrics. Whether he’s chasing the power of a Green Day riff or the crunch of Smashing Pumpkins, he sees sound as signature — a balance of tone, theme, and originality.

That attention to detail shows. But again, it’s not about being perfect. It’s about being understood. “I don’t think such a thing as a perfect song even exists,” Leniz says. “I don’t want perfection. I just want to be understood.”

That line might as well be the band’s thesis. Common Crime isn’t out to reinvent the genre. They’re cutting through the noise with songs that hit, stories that connect, and a sound that carries weight. They’re building something that lasts: one track, one room, one show at a time.

I got to hear three songs off their next EP. I won’t spoil anything (no titles, no lyrics, no setup). I’ll just say this: they’re strong. Mature, but not in a ‘parental advisory’ kind of way. Mature like they know exactly what they’re doing. The sound is raw, loud, and locked in. It takes you back to the first time you heard your favorite band, when everything felt urgent and alive. These songs don’t play nice. They stay with you. And if there’s any doubt about where Common Crime is headed next, let these tracks answer it: up.