Cold Waves XIV featuring STABBING WESTWARD (18 and Over)

Alright, indie aficionados, clear your Saturday night schedules because LAUNDRY DAY is about to transform the mundane chore into a euphoric expedition through soundscapes you didn't know you needed. This isn't just another basement gig; it's a sonic baptism in the school of alt-rock revelations. Picture this: five NYC wunderkinds, each channeling their inner sonic alchemist, concocting a unique blend of bedroom pop and slick grooves that will sweep you off your feet faster than you can say "vinyl resurgence." Their live show is a kaleidoscope of energy, charisma, and pure Gen Z zest, ready to turn any skeptic into a true believer. Think vibrant visuals, irresistible hooks, and the intoxicating smell of youth in revolt. If you've been searching for that one gig to brag about at future rooftop parties, this is your golden ticket. Don't say we didn't warn you when you're stuck in a TikTok hole of FOMO the next day.

Alright, indie aficionados, clear your Saturday night schedules because LAUNDRY DAY is about to transform the mundane chore into a euphoric expedition through soundscapes you didn't know you needed. This isn't just another basement gig; it's a sonic baptism in the school of alt-rock revelations. Picture this: five NYC wunderkinds, each channeling their inner sonic alchemist, concocting a unique blend of bedroom pop and slick grooves that will sweep you off your feet faster than you can say "vinyl resurgence." Their live show is a kaleidoscope of energy, charisma, and pure Gen Z zest, ready to turn any skeptic into a true believer. Think vibrant visuals, irresistible hooks, and the intoxicating smell of youth in revolt. If you've been searching for that one gig to brag about at future rooftop parties, this is your golden ticket. Don't say we didn't warn you when you're stuck in a TikTok hole of FOMO the next day.

Picture this: You, a dive bar that's more intimate than your last text convo, and Thrice—those post-hardcore legends who know how to make a room vibrate like it's 2003 all over again. Riot Fest Late Night at Bottom Lounge isn't just a gig; it's a pilgrimage. A rite of passage for anyone who knows the difference between an emo anthem and a pop-punk banger. The venue's got a no-nonsense stance against scalping—take that, ticket trolls—so you're guaranteed an honest crowd who knows every lyric of "The Artist in the Ambulance." With tickets arriving fashionably late (but always on time), you'll be living in suspense until you cross that threshold and feel the bass hit your bones. This is where sonic alchemy happens, where nostalgia and now collide in a mosh pit of pure, unadulterated sound. Don't sleep on this.

Plug into an electric evening with Hulvey on the "Could Be Tonight" Tour, slicing through the mediocrity of your usual Tuesday like a neon laser beam. This gig, set at the legendary House of Blues Chicago, is not just a show—it's a communal bath in soundwaves and shared sweat, where Hulvey will be pushing buttons, boundaries, and beats as he pilots us through the intricate landscapes of his sonic universe.

Doors crack open at 6PM—a portal to an alternate dimension where time is measured in heartbeats and bass drops. We’re not talking about any velvet-roped, VIP lounge nonsense here. No, this is a standing-room-only affair, a battleground of bouncing bodies and thumping anthems. The music kicks off at 7PM sharp: an all-ages, genre-bending trip underscored by Hulvey's signature blend of kaleidoscopic melodies and razor-sharp rhymes.

Forget about support acts for now—their names are as mutable as your Spotify Discover playlist. Focus instead on the main event, on this opportunity to upgrade your whole existence, not just your ticket. All roads lead to this moment, this night, this place. So, ditch the boredom, seize the night—this could be the concert that redefines you.

Phoebe Bridgers is back on the road, and this isn't just another tour—it's a pilgrimage for the soul, wrapped in melancholy and existential musings that only Phoebe can deliver. "The Lost Tour" is a sonic journey, blending ghostly whispers with heart-wrenching wails that resonate like a late-night confessional. But here's where it gets even cooler: for every ticket you snag, you're throwing a dollar toward RAINN, because Phoebe knows that music is a powerful vehicle for change, not just catharsis. It's the perfect mix of ethereal vibes and tangible impact, transforming every strum of her guitar into a beacon of hope. Consider this your call to arms, or at least your call to sway gently in a crowd of like-minded souls. Don't sleep on this one—your FOMO won't forgive you.

Hey there, sound explorers and riff junkies—brace yourselves, because REZN is about to blow your minds wide open with their Cycles in the Infinite Dream Tour. This isn't just another night out; it's a sonic pilgrimage into the raw, uncharted territories of your psyche. Fresh off their latest masterpiece, this Chicago foursome is fusing monolithic riffs with ethereal beauty in a way that's less concert, more cosmic experience. Joining them are the moody maestros of Cloakroom and the ever-entrancing DIM, rounding out a lineup that's poised to warp your reality and bend your brainwaves. Forget the usual mosh pit pandemonium—this is all about tuning in, zoning out, and getting lost in a dreamscape that feels both deeply familiar and thrillingly alien. Get your tickets, because the only thing worse than waking up from this dream is missing out entirely.

If your soul yearns for a night where pulsating beats and ethereal synths wrap your senses in a kaleidoscope of sound, then LSR/CITY X by Gareth Emery is your siren call. Emery, the maestro of melodic euphoria, is crafting an experience that transcends mere concert-going. Picture this: a sanctuary of sound where every dropout and crescendo syncs with your heartbeat, pulling you into a dimension where the only currency is raw, unfiltered emotion. This isn't just a gig; it's a communion of the like-minded, a gathering of the nocturnal tribe where your government ID is the only gateway to transcendence. Pack your curiosity and your coolest kicks; this is a sonic pilgrimage you won't want to miss.

If you're not at the Bottom Lounge this weekend for the Riot Fest Late Night with Mom Jeans, are you even living? This isn't just another gig—it's a sonic pilgrimage for those who worship at the altar of raw, unfiltered emo revival. Mom Jeans is the band that turned your college heartbreak into a footnote worth revisiting, and they're about to drop anthems that hit harder than existential dread at 3 AM.

Sure, there’s some fine print about ticketing and scalpers, but isn't that just the modern rite of passage for the true fan? Consider it a loyalty test for those who know that the payoff—belting out "Death Cup" with a sweaty crowd—is worth every digital hurdle.

Forget Netflix and takeout. This is your call to arms, your excuse to dig out your favorite thrifted flannel and join the kind of musical communion that’s only found in the dimly lit corners of the coolest venues. Miss this, and you'll only have yourself to blame when your friends are reminiscing about the night that was as close to perfection as a late-night show can get.

Clear your calendar, because Show Me the Body is about to obliterate the mundane with a sonic assault that'll rattle your bones and invigorate your soul. This isn't just a show; it's a seismic event where the visceral meets the vanguard. The hardcore trio, notorious for their raw energy and genre-defying sound, are headlining a night that'll echo across the city faster than a TikTok trend. They've dragged Whispers along for the ride, a duo that wraps your senses in shadowy synths and haunting vocals that'll linger like the best kind of ghost. This is the kind of night that’ll have you bragging about being there before the inevitable, "you had to be there" moment. So don your coolest vintage tee, lace up those worn-out Docs, and prepare to lose yourself in a crowd that feels more like family than fans. Miss this, and you'll be left scrolling through Instagram stories, wondering why you didn’t make the memories yourself.

Ready to trade your cynicism for some unironic, nostalgia-tinged joy? Good. Weezer: The Gathering is that elusive beast that marries the kitschy with the genuinely brilliant, and it's a must-attend this season. Weezer, the nerd-rock patriarchs who need no introduction, are back in town, and they're about to riff their way through your indie apathy. Think Rivers Cuomo's eternally youthful voice, cranking out banger after banger from their deep discography that's as full of underappreciated gems as your favorite thrift store vinyl bin.

Expect an offbeat crowd of flannel-clad hipsters, Gen X burnouts, and earnest Gen Z fans who just discovered "Pinkerton" last week—and love it. It's a gathering of the tribes, a crossing of the streams, a "Buddy Holly" for the 21st century. And yes, they'll probably play "Island in the Sun" and yes, you'll probably tear up a little. See you in the pit—don't forget your thick-rimmed glasses.

Igorrr is storming the stage, and if your ears haven't been blessed by their baroque-metal-breakcore fusion, it's time to recalibrate your life choices. This isn’t just a gig; it’s an avant-garde adventure into the beautifully bizarre. Imagine Bach and Aphex Twin had a lovechild that raves in the catacombs—yeah, that’s Igorrr. Expect to get sonically sucker-punched and leave questioning reality. Dust off your most eclectic outfit, because blending in is not an option here. This is the night your future self will thank you for attending, and your Instagram feed will never look cooler.

STRFKR is crashing into your existential ennui like a comet made of glitter and synth hooks, ready to ignite the Outset stage with their cosmic dance party vibes. This isn’t just a gig; it’s an intergalactic pilgrimage for your soul. You’ll find yourself lost in the kaleidoscope of sound that only STRFKR can conjure, where pulsating beats meet dreamy vocals and every bass line is a direct transmission from the indie ether. All ages means this sonic odyssey is open to star children of any generation, and trust us, this will be the night that’s referenced in hushed tones in basement dive bars for years to come. So grab your most ironic patched denim jacket, prep your best aloof nod, and prepare to lose yourself in a sea of like-minded disciples under a ceiling of twinkling lights. General Admission means you’ll want to stake your claim early—because once you’re in, there’s no re-entry, and let’s be real, you won’t want to leave this vortex of audio bliss anyway.

Get ready to transcend the mundane, because A Winged Victory for the Sullen is about to swoop into town and elevate your auditory experience to celestial heights. This isn't just a gig; it's an aural odyssey that effortlessly blurs the lines between ambient, neo-classical, and the etheric realms you only visit in your most lucid dreams. If Kafka had a favorite band to soundtrack his existential musings, this would be it. The duo's lush soundscapes will wrap around you like a sonic cocoon, making even the most jaded among us feel like they're floating in a Lynchian reverie. Whether you're an ambient aficionado or just in desperate need of a soul cleanse, missing this would be like skipping the afterparty of the year—where the vibe is immaculate, and the usual hipster ennui doesn't stand a chance. Grab your most introspective crew and drift your way to a night that promises both beauty and introspection. Don't say we didn't warn you when you're stuck with only the FOMO as your plus-one.

Prepare your eardrums and existential dread for a night with YHWH Nailgun, the sonic prophets who are about to turn your comfort zone into a mosh pit of divine chaos. These noise rock savants, fresh off a residency in the most ethereal of Brooklyn basements, are bringing their apocalyptic riffs and cryptic poetics to a stage near you. It's like if David Lynch curated a soundtrack for a post-internet fever dream, and you’re invited to witness the unraveling. Expect decibels that could resurrect Joy Division and lyrical enigmas that would leave Kafka clutching his diary. Miss this, and you'll never hear the end of it—literally.

Grab your vintage band tee and get ready to time travel back to 2010. Two Door Cinema Club is bringing their indie anthem-laden debut, Tourist History, to life in NYC for an unforgettable 15th anniversary bash. This isn't just a gig; it's a celebration of that era when skinny jeans reigned supreme, and every track felt like an instant classic. Expect immersive elements that will transport you to another dimension—think strobe lights dancing like fireflies and synths that could rival your late-night playlist. It's a chance to belt out "What You Know" surrounded by a sea of kindred spirits who also had this album on repeat. Don't let your future self be haunted by the ghost of gigs missed. Secure your spot in the crowd and join the indie elites for a night that promises to be as electric as the first time you heard Alex Trimble's voice cut through a dive bar's din.

If your idea of a rager is more distortion pedals than disco balls, Cold Waves Los Angeles Night 1 is where your soul needs to be. Think of it as a sonic séance summoning the spirit of Factory Records, with a lineup that's a love letter to your leather jacket-wearing, synth-obsessed alter ego. This isn't just a gig; it's a pilgrimage for the sonically adventurous—a communion of darkwave, post-punk, and industrial soundscapes that'll have you questioning your loyalties to any other genre. The echoes of the underground are calling, and this is your chance to bask in the reverb-drenched glow of an unmissable night. Get ready to lose yourself in a haze of smoke machines and strobe lights while some of the scene's most electrifying acts remind you why you're obsessed with the beautifully chaotic dance between analog grit and digital dreams. If you're not there, you're just not living.

Get ready to strut your stuff because Satin Jackets are about to transform Outset into a swirling, disco-infused daydream you won't want to miss. Think glittering synth lines and velvety beats that make you feel like you're cruising down an endless neon highway. This is an AGES 17 AND OVER affair, so bring your best dance moves and a valid ID that'll keep the bouncers happy. The vibe is strictly standing room only, so prepare to get up close and personal with strangers who might just become your next best friends—or your next great story. With a strict no re-entry policy, once you're in, you're in it for the long haul, sipping on euphoria and savoring every glimmer of this six-ticket-max event. Trust us, this isn't just a gig—it's a night you'll be reminiscing over craft coffee for months to come.

If you're still chasing that elusive high of discovering your next favorite sound in a dimly lit room packed with strangers who might just be your new best friends, then clear your calendar. San Holo is about to flip your world with TRUE LOVE IN A MADE UP WORLD, a sonic odyssey that feels like the soundtrack to your late-night existential musings. This isn’t just a show; it’s an immersion into a labyrinth where ethereal beats and heart-tugging melodies collide, crafted by the maestro of feels himself. Expect a transcendental mix of glitchy synths and soul-stirring basslines that hit harder than your last existential crisis. This is the kind of night that makes your Spotify algorithm jealous. Get ready to feel alive in a way that only happens when the music and a room full of kindred spirits do the talking. Go ahead, try not to catch the FOMO. We dare you.

Erase every preconceived notion you've ever had about Foster The People. The "Pumped Up Kicks" maestros are back with their Good Mourning Sunshine Tour, shaking up the indie pop sphere from its mid-summer stupor. Their vibrant soundscapes and infectious hooks are poised to rip through the fabric of their previous discography, promising a sonic journey that's, well, anything but predictable.

Drawing from a tapestry of influences that span from psychedelic pop to electro-rock, the band's latest tour is a kaleidoscope of genre-bending bops that will have even the most aloof hipster nodding along in reluctant approval. Sprinkled with the occasional dash of synth, a hint of lo-fi ambience, and plenty of surprises, this is Foster The People like you've never heard them before.

If you've ever wanted to be part of a music revolution, this is your chance. Prepare to devour the synth-pop soundscapes, indie beats, and a new wave of sonic exploration that Foster The People are masterfully crafting. This isn't just another concert—it's a multimedia happening, a ritual of sound and vision, a psych-pop pilgrimage that you can't afford to miss.

When was the last time you felt truly alive, standing in a room where the walls thrummed with the electric pulse of clever lyrics and cathartic chords? Get ready to break your ennui with a double-dose of sonic euphoria at Bottom Lounge. Cheekface brings their sardonic wit and infectious hooks, ready to soundtrack your existential crises with sing-alongs that'll get stuck in your head faster than last week's TikTok trend. Add Apes of the State to the mix, with their raw, punk-folk confessions that'll have you spilling your heart on the sticky dance floor. Forget the secondary market scams; this is the real deal, and with a ticket drop like this, you'll want to set a million alarms. Miss out, and risk being the one friend who didn't "get it" — don't be that friend.

Bust out your most dazzling sequined jumpsuit and get ready to groove, because The Polish Ambassador is about to take you on an intergalactic journey that promises to shake even the most stoic of hipsters out of their ennui. Nestled in the vibrant, pulsating heart of Garcia's, where ramps and wheelchair lifts ensure that everyone can ride the cosmic wave, our beloved synth shaman will unleash a sonic tsunami of future-funk beats and neon-drenched visuals. Whether you're in the dance pit sweating out last week's existential crisis or perched at a premium cabaret-style table sipping craft cocktails with new best friends, the immersive experience is unparalleled. For those who like their space a little more private, cozy up in a booth with your crew and let the Ambassador's beats ripple through your bones. But wherever you land, let it be known: this is the night your FOMO will be fully vanquished.

Bust out your most dazzling sequined jumpsuit and get ready to groove, because The Polish Ambassador is about to take you on an intergalactic journey that promises to shake even the most stoic of hipsters out of their ennui. Nestled in the vibrant, pulsating heart of Garcia's, where ramps and wheelchair lifts ensure that everyone can ride the cosmic wave, our beloved synth shaman will unleash a sonic tsunami of future-funk beats and neon-drenched visuals. Whether you're in the dance pit sweating out last week's existential crisis or perched at a premium cabaret-style table sipping craft cocktails with new best friends, the immersive experience is unparalleled. For those who like their space a little more private, cozy up in a booth with your crew and let the Ambassador's beats ripple through your bones. But wherever you land, let it be known: this is the night your FOMO will be fully vanquished.

Slide into the backlit glow of Carol's Pub this Saturday for a sonic journey with Laci Kaye Booth, the Nashville siren turning heartbreak into celestial magic. Fresh off her signing with Lost Highway Records, Laci's third album, Love Ain't For The Faint Of Heart, is both a gut punch and a healing balm—a perfect reflection of love’s messy, melodic paradox. Her set promises to be a tapestry of dream-pop shimmer and country soul, weaving tales of love lost and found in a way only someone who’s danced with both devils and angels can. With production from Ben West, expect a sonic landscape that’s as lush as a Tennessee summer night. This is more than a gig; it's a cathartic pilgrimage through love’s trenches, guided by Laci’s haunting vocals and raw storytelling. Grab a GA ticket if you’re ready to sway among kindred spirits, or secure a table if you prefer to sip and savor the aural landscape. But remember, this one's 21+, and if you snooze, your table might just become another’s treasure. Consider this your antidote to the blasé, a night where every note might just get you a little closer to the catharsis you didn’t know you needed.

Get ready to have your cool cred maxed out with a triple bill that's hotter than a stolen synth. This Friday, the dimly lit underbelly of the city plays host to a sonic séance you won't want to miss. Start the night by getting lost in the art-pop noir of Charming Disaster—imagine Nick Cave and The White Stripes had a ghost baby. Next, the God Awful Small Affairs will hit you with a tidal wave of glam-infused existentialism that would make David Bowie raise an eyebrow. And if you're still standing, the enigmatic Super Secret Cult Band will close the night with their hypnotic rituals and psychedelic jams that feel like a fever dream you never want to wake up from. You can almost hear the whispers of "I was there" echoing through the future. Those in the know will be worshipping at the altar of this gig—don’t say we didn’t warn you.

Clear your calendar and prep your best ironic band tee because Elder is about to unravel the fabric of your reality, one mind-bending riff at a time. This isn't just a gig; it's a sonic pilgrimage through the cosmic realms of stoner rock and progressive psychedelia. If you've ever wondered what it feels like to float through a neon nebula while riding a wave of fuzz-drenched euphoria, Elder's live set is your ticket to enlightenment. Think of it as a spiritual retreat for audiophiles, where distortion pedals replace incense and the only mantra is "louder." Slip into the crowd at your own risk—you might just find yourself headbanging next to that mysterious vinyl collector from the record store, or sharing a knowing nod with a fellow music fiend who gets that sometimes, the only therapy you need is a wall of sound. This is the kind of night you'll reminisce about at every afterparty, the kind that leaves you with a ringing in your ears and a new lease on life. Don't sleep on it, because you know this is exactly what you've been craving.

Arlo Parks, the Mercury prize laureate and voice of our generation, is dropping her sonic magic onto stages across the globe with her "Desire Tour." Following a dizzying climb to stardom, a UNICEF ambassadorship, and a couple of Grammy nods, she's now bending genres and minds with her third album, Ambiguous Desire. From the queer revelry of NYC's Paradise Garage to the shadowy UK beats of The Streets and Burial, Parks isn't just genre-hopping, she's time-traveling. Expect LCD Soundsystem-esque synth ecstasies and rootsy Theo Parrish grooves—this is an exploration of sound you won't want to miss. So leave your pretentious ennui at the door—this isn't your run-of-the-mill synthpop fair, it's Arlo Parks at her boldest, brightest, and most boundary-pushing. Get ready to have your indie sensibilities shaken, stirred, and served back with a slice of uncensored self-expression.

Forget everything you know about riotous nights and sonic revelation—Lambrini Girls are here to rewrite your indie escapades. This Brighton-based trio is a Molotov cocktail of punk ferocity and unapologetic queerness, ready to detonate your expectations and maybe your eardrums. Imagine Kathleen Hanna and Courtney Love blasting out of your favorite dive bar, but with a fresh, frenetic twist that demands you scream along or get out of the way. Their live shows are notorious for transforming skeptical toe-tappers into fervent disciples, leaving even the most jaded scenester wondering if they’ve just witnessed the second coming of DIY chaos. Grab your ticket, grab your mates, and prepare for a night that may just remind you why you fell in love with this wild music world to begin with. FOMO? More like FOTGO—Fear of Truly Going Off. Don’t say we didn’t warn you.

If you’re looking to shatter your eardrums in the best possible way, look no further than the cataclysmic collision of Knocked Loose and Denzel Curry. This isn't just a gig—it's a seismic event where hardcore meets hip-hop in an electrifying mosh pit baptism. Knocked Loose will be dishing out bone-crushing breakdowns that'll have you questioning the stability of your spine, while Denzel Curry’s blistering bars and boundless energy ensure not a single sneaker stays unscuffed. It's a genre-defying sonic blitzkrieg that promises to leave your brain buzzing and your soul moshing. Miss it, and you’ll be left scrolling through Instagram stories with a heavy case of FOMO and a tinge of regret.

Listen up, sound-surfers and beat connoisseurs: DJ Shadow is about to drop a seismic wave of sonic brilliance on your synapses. This isn’t just any set—it's a transcendental journey through the labyrinth of loops and samples that only Shadow can conjure. We're talking about a cerebral kaleidoscope where vintage vinyl whispers secrets to digital drum machines, and where the underground becomes your sanctuary. Forget the typical Friday night dive bar drudgery; this is where the real alchemy happens. If you've ever found yourself chasing the elusive dragon of musical euphoria, this is your ticket. Trust, you’ll want to be there when the needle hits the groove and the walls pulse with the collective heartbeat of the ones who truly get it.

Get ready to dive into the sonic abyss as Ministry and Acid Bath team up with Windhand for a night that promises to obliterate the mundane. This isn't just a gig; it's a full-throttle descent into the dark, twisted heart of the underground. Ministry will be unleashing their industrial metal fury like it's a séance for the disenchanted, while Acid Bath resurrects their cult status, offering a rare dose of sludge-laden nihilism. Windhand will set the stage, weaving their hypnotic doom spell that feels like a slow dance with the apocalypse. This lineup is a Venn diagram of everything you ever scribbled in the margins of your high school notebook, and it's all going down in a venue that feels like a secret you were only cool enough to discover. Don't say we didn't warn you when your Instagram feed is flooded with stories from everyone who was there, and you're left dreaming of what could have been. Grab a ticket, and let yourself be enveloped by the noise.

Alright, scene-stealers and synth lovers, brace yourselves. Boy Harsher and Choir Boy are about to turn your Thursday night into a cinematic fever dream you won’t want to wake up from. Boy Harsher's darkwave beats pulse like the heartbeat of a neon-lit city at midnight, and when paired with Choir Boy's ethereal, melancholic croons, it’s the perfect storm of sound to make your soul sway. Picture yourself in a misty basement, surrounded by a crowd that looks like they stepped out of an A24 flick, as you're swept away on a wave of echoing synths and haunting vocals. This isn’t just a gig; it’s a rite of passage for anyone who claims to have an ear to the ground of the indie underworld. Miss this, and you’ll be that person who only gets the T-shirt but not the story.