There’s something about the busy, hard streets of Detroit that stirs the soul and places your head on a swivel—especially when you’re about to walk into Little Caesars Arena for the first time. The sheer scale of the place looms ahead, a concrete coliseum that feels more like a beast than a venue. Tonight isn’t just any show; it’s a juggernaut, a momentous collision of nostalgia and raw energy. Coheed and Cambria, my steadfast companions since 2002, are sharing the stage with Incubus, who are celebrating the 23rd anniversary of their iconic “Morning View” album.
As I approach the entrance, my heart is pounding like the bass drum of a Meshuggah track. This is my first arena show as a photographer, and the stakes feel impossibly high. The crowd is already massive—far bigger than the intimate venues where I’ve usually seen Coheed. This is the big leagues, and the air is thick with anticipation.
Coheed and Cambria: Are you in, or are you out?
The photo pit is a narrow trench of chaos—a slender corridor between the barricade and the stage, crammed with me and six other photographers. A massive chunk of available space is unavailable - reserved for Incubus VIPS to have a once in a lifetime experience: To stand at Brandon Boyd's feet, and perhaps even touch his hand. So I will live in this narrow space and make the most of it. Afterall, I am about to photograph Coheed and Cambria, titans of the last 20 years of my musical taste. The lights go dark, and the familiar intro to "In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth: 3" begins to reverberate through the cavernous arena. It’s like a wave crashing over the crowd, pulling them into a world that only Coheed and Cambria can create.
Coheed is a band that defies categorization—a glorious Frankenstein’s monster of genres. One part hair metal, one part emo, a dash of post-punk, and a heaping helping of prog-rock, all smashed together into something that shouldn’t work but does. And it does so magnificently. On stage, Claudio Sanchez is a man possessed, his wild mane of hair whipping around as he channels something otherworldly through his guitar and vocals. To his right, guitarist Travis Stever is the steady hand, the fluid counterpoint to Claudio’s frenetic energy. Bassist Zach Cooper holds down the low end with precision, while drummer Josh Eppard is the heartbeat, pounding out rhythms with the most recognizable drum faces in the business.
The setlist is a journey through time, starting with fan favorites like "Silent Earth," "Ten Speed," "Blood Red Summer," and "A Favor House Atlantic." The crowd is with them every step of the way, singing along with every line like they’re reciting scripture. There’s a sense of unity here, a congregation worshipping at the altar of Coheed, and I’m right there with them, camera in hand, capturing every moment.
But Coheed isn’t just a nostalgia act. They seamlessly transition into newer material like "A Disappearing Act" and "Liars Club," showing that they’re still evolving, still pushing the boundaries of what they can do. And then, they close with "Welcome Home," the song that catapulted them to legendary status. The arena erupts, and if there’s anyone here just for Incubus, you wouldn’t know it. Coheed has the crowd in the palm of their hand, and they’ve just delivered a performance for the ages.
Incubus: A Morning View in the Night
Incubus has always been a band that transcended genres, and tonight they proved why they’re still at the top of their game. Announcing their 2024 U.S. Arena tour to celebrate the 23rd anniversary of "Morning View," they promised a full-album performance—and they delivered. But it was more than just a trip down memory lane; it was a masterclass in musical evolution.
"Morning View" was a pivotal album for me, as it was for many of my generation. In high school, Incubus was the band that everyone could agree on, no matter what clique you were in. If you didn’t like Incubus, there was something seriously wrong with you. The album is a sonic tapestry of introspection, longing, and hope—emotions that resonated deeply with a generation on the cusp of adulthood.
The band was missing former bassist Ben Kenney, who had stepped away from the band before the tour’s announcement. His replacement, former Panic! at the Disco bassist Nicole Row, stepped up to the plate and knocked it out of the park. She was a force of nature on stage, owning her corner and playing off the rest of the band like she’d been with them from the beginning. Any doubts about her ability to fill Ben’s shoes were quickly erased; she didn’t just fill the role—she made it her own.
The performance of "Morning View" was everything it promised and more. From the ethereal opening of "Nice to Know You" to the haunting strains of "Aqueous Transmission," the album unfolded like a dream, each track pulling the audience deeper into its spell. But Incubus didn’t stop there. They also treated us to "the hits," a reminder that their catalog is as vast as it is varied.
Incubus remains as relevant as they ever were, if not more so. Their dedication to their craft and their willingness to challenge themselves creatively is what sets them apart. They’re not just a band resting on their laurels; they’re artists, continually pushing the boundaries of what they can do. And tonight, they proved that they’re not done yet—not by a long shot.
As the final notes of the night echoed through Little Caesars Arena, I felt a deep sense of satisfaction. This wasn’t just another concert; it was a journey, a reminder of why I fell in love with live music in the first place. Coheed and Cambria delivered a performance that was as chaotic and beautiful as ever, a testament to their enduring appeal. And Incubus? They reminded us why they’ve been at the top of the game for over two decades, showing that they’re still evolving, still challenging themselves, and still capable of creating those transcendent musical moments.
In a world where the music industry often feels more like a machine than an art form, nights like this are a breath of fresh air. They remind us that live music is more than just sound and light; it’s an experience, a communion of souls brought together by the power of song. And as I packed up my camera and took one last look at the stage, I couldn’t help but feel grateful to be part of it all.
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