On October 21, 2025, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club transformed The Van Buren into a cathedral of shadow and sound. The night began with a stark and haunting cover of Pete Seeger’s “Which Side Are You On?”, with Peter Hayes (guitar, vocals, harmonica) appearing on stage solo, a spectral invocation that set the tone for what followed: a full, unbroken performance of Howl, the most stripped down and folky album in their discography. Robert Been (bass, vocals) even acknowledged this to the crowd during one of the many guitar changes, stating it was an album they never imagined they’d play it live and in-full. Bathed in barely-there somber lighting and curls of cigarette-gray haze, the trio moved through the album like a séance, each song unfolding with a patient and reverent tension. “Shuffle Your Feet” struck like a gospel hymn gone ghostly, “Ain’t No Easy Way” thundered with weary but ever present conviction, and by the time “The Line” closed that first act, the crowd seemed suspended in collective introspection, aware they were part of something both intimate and immense.
When Howl’s final notes faded, the air hung heavy with a stillness before the storm. “Red Eyes And Tears” and “White Palms” served as the perfect transition songs out of Howl, being brooding and hypnotic cuts that captures BRMC’s signature fusion of fuzzed-out garage rock, blues grit, and emotional weight, with both pulsing with energy. Then, with the crack of a drum like a cannon blast from Leah Shapiro, “Beat the Devil’s Tattoo” absolutely tore the silence and introspection apart. The crowd erupted, bodies surging as the song’s primal rhythm took hold. From there, BRMC moved with purpose through a razor-sharp second act which throbbed in shadow and rumbled like a dark sermon. The band’s control of pacing was surgical; each song built on the tension of the last without ever breaking the mood’s spell. By the time “Berlin” hit, The Van Buren felt electric, the audience shouting every word and hanging on every drum beat, the band feeding off the voltage in return. “Spread Your Love” landed like a homecoming, hips and heads moving as one, while “Shadow’s Keeper” served as the final descent, dragging the night back into its original darkness.
As the final echoes dissolved into the low light, no encore felt necessary. After a massive 20 song set, BRMC had come full circle, from protest hymn to personal confession, from spiritual to electric. What lingered wasn’t noise, but the quiet hum of reflection through fuzzed guitar that BRMC seem to summon effortlessly. Howl wasn’t just performed that night, it was reawakened, breathed into, and set loose inside everyone lucky enough to be in that darkened room.
