There Are Different Roads To Happiness

I have a love/hate relationship with packed shows. I love it because it usually means a band has done the grind long enough to finally become something special (which was absolutely the case on Sunday night), but I hate it because, well, I don’t like people. I know that may sound insane. I spend nearly every night of my life lost in a crowd at a concert, but I like my bubble and, at most, I can maintain it at shows. Being a photographer adds another layer to my distaste, but also my love, for packed, sold-out shows. I love it because the energy adds something to the photos, even if the photos aren’t necessarily of the crowd, but at the same time, when you’re at a venue that doesn’t have a designated photo pit, you instantly become people’s most hated person in the crowd as you pop up to the front of the venue for the first three songs. Some people consider this ruining their show when, in actuality, you are there to do a job, and you won’t linger more than a song. Long story short, I love-hate packed shows, and Sunday night at The Turf Club was absolutely a packed show.

It doesn’t happen often, but I was instantly starstruck by opening act Kalyn Fay, even though I’d never heard her name, voice, or music before. An Oklahoma-bred singer-songwriter, she carried so much beauty before she even spoke into the microphone. It wasn’t just Kalyn’s obvious physical beauty; it was the aura she brought to the tiny stage in the long, narrow venue. She radiated positivity but also radiated honest pain at the same time. Her music followed suit. It was, as she called them, “bummer banger” after “bummer banger.” Her songs seemed to revolve around identity and family. Although I probably have very little in common with her, I felt connected because her stories of finding herself while honoring her roots were so raw and honest. It was one of those sets where I didn’t feel like I was watching a musician sing songs; I felt like I was hearing a friend read their diary, exposing their deepest and darkest secrets to me, and I did not take that lightly.

As I mentioned, Kalyn’s name was new to me, but I was clearly head over heels in love with everything about her. From what I can tell, she doesn’t travel up to the North Country often, but that needs to change, and I’m not the only one who felt that way. Although we got to see Kalyn’s soul on stage Sunday night, I feel like she left so much unsaid and so many songs unplayed, and I’m not the only one who felt that way. I’m pretty sure that if you asked anyone in the audience on Sunday night whether they would go see Kalyn live again, the answer would be a resounding “YES!” So, Kalyn, please come back soon. Things have been pretty dark in the Twin Cities this year, and you brought a shining light to us all.

I mentioned that I love packed, sold-out shows because it usually means a band has worked hard enough to get the kudos they deserve finally, and the band on Sunday night was a prime example. That band is American Aquarium. I’ll be honest: I knew nothing about this band walking into The Turf Club on Sunday night, but I knew their name had been listed on the venue’s calendar time and time again, and I had always taken note but never actually done anything about it. American Aquarium has visited the Twin Cities every single year (minus 2020, but, let’s be honest, that year doesn’t count) since at least 2018. This wouldn’t mean much if the band was from somewhere in the Midwest, but they are coming all the way from Raleigh, NC. Calling this band a road warrior kind of band would be an understatement, and saying I respect that would be a painful understatement. Not only is this band constantly touring, but they are also constantly putting out music. Twenty years, twenty records- that’s how their bio started on the venue’s website, and that was all I needed to know to decide I wanted to spend my Sunday here.

Led by vocalist/guitarist BJ Barham, American Aquarium is a folksy, Americana-based rock band. They fall into the category of bands like Drive-By Truckers, Wilco, and Jason Isbell, but they have an edge that instantly reminded me of my all-time favorite band, Lucero. Their songs are as crafted as they are emotional, and although there were smiles on the stage and in the audience throughout the night, some songs carried a deafening sadness and others celebratory triumph. It was a rollercoaster of emotions, yet those smiles never left my face or the faces of those around me. Maybe that’s because this band performs with so much joy. There’s really no other way to phrase that, but it was so lovely to look on stage and see the band truly loving every second of being on stage, even though they have been grinding for years. Maybe it was just because it was finally starting to feel like fall outside, and I feel like that always makes people just a bit more friendly and upbeat. Whatever it was, I didn’t spend much time trying to figure it out. All I knew was that it was beautiful and somehow made me comfortable in the uncomfortable setting of a packed room.

I don’t know how many songs American Aquarium played. I know that it felt like a lengthy set of at least twenty-five songs, but I also know that, once it was all said and done, it didn’t feel like enough. I was lost in their world. I was connected on so many levels, but at the same time, I had one of those nights where I felt disconnected from everything. Long story short, standing there, taking in American Aquarium song after song was pure bliss. Not at all how I saw my Sunday night going, especially with only a handful of tickets left, meaning the room was packed to the brim, but why question a good thing?