The drive from Columbus to Detroit is a perilous journey on any given day, but on April 20, it became a treacherous odyssey. The highways were clogged with eager cannabis enthusiasts, weaving through the congested thoroughfares like desperados in search of their next big score. Michigan's roads, akin to a rollercoaster ride through the Andes, offer little respite for the weary traveler - and their vehicle's suspension. After an interminable journey, I arrived at my destination, The Shelter, nestled in the bowels of St. Andrews Hall. The venue's name carries an air of foreboding, hinting at clandestine gatherings and affairs. Yet, as I stepped inside, the familiar embrace of dimly lit corridors and crowded spaces welcomed me like an old friend. On that night, I'm was there to witness Spanish Love Songs, and I can remember sensing that it was going to be an unforgettable night.
Worry Club
As the night unfolded, Worry Club took the stage, a group of youthful insurgents armed with guitars and angst. Their sound, reminiscent of Atlanta juggernauts Microwave, reverberated through the cramped confines of The Shelter with an intensity that belies their tender years. The singer, a kinetic force of nature, commanded the stage with a fervor usually reserved for seasoned veterans. Each chord struck like a thunderbolt, electrifying the audience and igniting a fervent desire in me to join in the chorus, despite the unfamiliarity of the lyrics. Worry Club performs with the swagger of headliners, leaving an indelible mark on the evening's proceedings and planting the seeds of anticipation for their inevitable ascent.
Oso Oso
Next up was Oso Oso, a whirlwind of raw energy and infectious melodies. Their performance was a dance of catharsis, as they wove through their repertoire with an unbridled fervor that left the crowd spellbound. The front rows hung on every word, every chord, as if each syllable held the key to unlocking some profound truth. Their songs, introspective and soul-searching, resonated deeply with the audience, touching on themes of love and loss with a poignancy that is both haunting and beautiful. As Oso Oso exited the stage, the air was charged with a sense of reverence, a collective acknowledgment of the transformative power of music.
Spanish Love Songs
Finally, the moment arrived. Spanish Love Songs took their rightful place on the stage, ready to unleash their brand of cathartic anthems upon the eager crowd. A flood of green light filled the stage, bathing the band in its embrace. Their music, a potent blend of emo and punk (at times), cuts through the air like a knife, slicing through the veil of apathy that hangs heavy over the world.
Vocalist Dylan Slocum is a man possessed, his voice a primal scream of frustration and defiance against the injustices of the world. Keyboardist Meredith adds depth and texture to the sound, her ethereal melodies weaving through the cacophony with an otherworldly grace. She lives in the music live - almost swimming in it, almost inviting you in. Behind the kit, Ruben is a metronomic force, driving the rhythm forward with unrelenting precision. And guitarist Kyle, fueled by an unbridled passion, delivers blistering riffs that sear themselves into the collective consciousness of the crowd. Together, they form a symphony of chaos and beauty, a testament to the enduring power of music in a world gone mad.
Their set wove effortlessly in and out of new and old - at times, Dylan playfully refusing to perform to the crowd's requests, stating "But I have a setlist." That being said, Spanish Love Songs played the songs they should have played. Every song hit with deeper and deeper fervor. Every word reminded the crowd that even when things seem hopeless, and we are feeling left behind, we still have each other. We still have sad songs that remind us the truth Almost Famous taught us nearly 30 years ago - You ARE Home.
As the night drew to a close, I found myself behind the wheel once more, navigating the empty streets of Detroit with Spanish Love Songs as my guide. The journey back to Columbus is a solitary one, punctuated only by the neon glow of late-night Taco Bell and the haunting strains of "Brave Faces, Everyone" emanating from the speakers of my VW - Boba Jetta. Clever, I know. It's moments like these, fueled by the raw emotion of live music and the promise of the open road, that remind me why I embarked on this wild adventure in the first place. And as I leave Detroit behind me, the memories of this unforgettable night linger like a bittersweet refrain, but also a testament to the camaraderie of song - and the world it can change.
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