There is something special about early week shows. More of a commitment than their casual weekend counterparts, I always feel more closely attached to my fellow attendees. You liked something enough to pay good money to see something at 10pm on a Monday; four traditional workdays looming, no respite ahead. There is a consciousness to that choice that transcends crowds and manifests as a shared heighted attention and awareness. I felt this most especially as we got a chance to see Loving at the Belly Up. And perhaps this concept struck me because Loving perfectly encapsulates and represents those feelings.



Bands evolve. Musicians have new personal creative desires that sometimes deviate from their fans wishes. I’ve noticed a trend for a lot of softer indie rock bands to seek more pace and intensity. I remember watching Leon Bridges live, intrinsically expecting a man with high wasted pants to float across a piano and dance upon a guitar, yet, instead, I saw someone who felt more fervent, more intense. One of my favorite musicians of all time, LA Salami, started as a Bob Dylan esque busker and inched slowly but surely into the realm of grunge rock. I’ve seen many an artist follow this same path, seemingly embarrassed by their softer younger selves. Musicians, while so unique and creative, are often predictable in this way. Perhaps this trend is in pursuit of some more serious, realistic creative output. Life gets harder, so too do musicians. Maybe they become more conscious of time and feel the need to race against it, their songs moving quicker in hopes of fitting more into what they have left. Loving, however, seemed so refreshingly steady. Already complete in their journey of self-discovery, I felt quite peaceful and content as they played. True to form. True to expectation.

 

I recently re-fell in love with the band through their 2023 single Medicine, a rare song that is both soft and optimistic. So, I felt quite welcomed when they opened with the very thing I’d hoped to see most. The rest of the show carried the same theme: comfort. There was not a giant build up with a massive crescendo. No peaks and valleys. Instead, it was more of summer breeze. Ebbs and flows with a stillness that let you breath deeper and easier. There is, on occasion, shows that seem to stand out or uniquely grip you. For me, these have been performances where a lead singer shows some rare talent for audience captivation, or a group working effortlessly in tandem. I can think of the time I saw Snooper, a small Nashville based garage rock band, outdoors in the frigid Chicago winter, donning uniformed mullets and dark shades jumping into the crowd and playing with an intensity that I have yet to see matched. I remember Tyler the Creator riding around on go-carts, Leon Bridges singing Texas Sun on a peninsula in the Ocean, and Quinn talking to the crowd backlit by the Chicago Skyline. Loving had none of that. Monday, 10pm, at a medium sized venue in a sleepy part of San Diego. Yet they stood out all the same. They stood out because the entire concert felt like one act. One play. Organizationaly syphmonic. I felt disarmed in a way that I’ve never felt at a musical performance. They were true to themselves. Unique to themselves.

 

Loving is a fitting name. Unassuming. Comfortable. We hope to see them again soon. For now we will take our morning dose of medicine.