“Houston, Houston, Houston,” La Dispute lead singer Jordan Dreyer said as he took a breather between “The Most Beautiful Bitter Fruit” and “Scenes From Highways 1981-2009.” “Such a privilege to be here, such a joy to be a part of this community. It’s such a good thing to be alive and to be here tonight, so thanks for coming out, for making us feel at home. We are grateful for every road that we took, every road that you took that ended up here on a weeknight in beautiful Houston.”
Following opening acts From Indian Lakes and Flooding, a casual onlooker might have been surprised to see how visceral the change in the audience was between them and the headliner. That’s not to say that the attendees didn’t enjoy the first two acts, but their expression was mostly relegated to standing in one spot nodding along in approval. When La Dispute began to trickle on stage to “I Shaved My Head,” all bets were off.



The pit opened up immediately after the first song and didn’t really let up until well into the second half of the show. The Michigan quintet presented themselves with nothing more than their instruments in front of a backdrop promoting the album, and that’s all that was needed. Formed in 2004, their unique blend of post-hardcore, spoken word, and more has always lent itself to success without too many bells and whistles; the music speaks for itself.
That being said, Dreyer takes a lot of time to pause between songs and speak directly to the audience, kneeling down to eye level on stage left before “Woman (Reading)” to talk a little bit on the human condition and the state of the world. It was like whiplash, going from that intimate moment into the ferocity that was “King Park.”
Arguably La Dispute’s most well-known track, it has had another renaissance online as people discover its intense lyrics. For a song clocking in at just under seven minutes, it’s mind-blowing to hear how many people know every single word. The band stands out in large part thanks to Dreyer’s storytelling, often taking from heavy subject matter based on personal experiences or things that happened around him. “Steve” is no different, tackling suicide in a bleak and unromantic way. It’s a song that really allows bassist Adam Vass to shine. Throughout the band’s discography, the bass has often played a pleasantly prominent role, and it’s nice to see this is something that hasn’t changed even in their newest album.



Looking around the room, Dreyer couldn’t help but remark on the beauty of having community around. He noted how lucky he was to have been able to convince his cousin, drummer Brad Vander Lugt, to give him a chance to join his basement band about 20 years ago. Looking around the room, Dreyer noticed how diverse people were in age, and likely other aspects, but they still had the opportunity to celebrate each other’s diversity and find power in it, particularly in a time and political climate that generates so much despair.
“I think this is a reprieve from despair, and despair is a difficult thing to push away and a difficult thing to break free of to find reasons to feel joy, to celebrate, and to feel hopeful that we can live in a world better than the one we have now,” Dreyer said. “And while I think those feelings are extremely valid, when I’m here and I look out at all of you, it’s so much easier to visualize a better place for all of us.”
The crowd screamed in agreement as they were called together to make it happen, to create the world that they want to see.




“We can realize a world in which our trans family and neighbors can walk down the street, families can live without fear of extrajudicial punishment, where we can see a world in which Palestine is free,” Dreyer continued, nearly drowned out by cheers. “So thank you for being here, for taking care of your neighbors. Go talk to Food Not Bombs, get involved, punch a fucking Nazi for everybody, especially the young people, and Fuck ICE. This next song is about having a hard time getting up in the morning; it’s called ‘A Letter.’”
The circle pit turned into a conga line during “Images of an Ordinary Life.” The band didn’t play the encore game; they just announced it, came on, and did an acoustic rendition of “No One Was Driving The Car” before closing with “Environmental Catastrophe Film.”
The special thing about La Dispute is that they are not calling it in. Every show seems to affect the band just as much as it affects the audience. They seem to care just as much as they did on day one; their music continues to show it, and their showmanship certainly does.







