December 2025 "A Trip to Oakland" By Julie Calvert

     The air is damp with a familiar, dirty, and salty scent–the smell of cigarettes, the sea, and the concrete jungle: Oakland, California. On November 1st of 2025, after a crazy Halloween night at the local goth club, I had an 8 AM train to catch from our local Amtrak station in Fresno, to Oakland Jack-London Square–I was going to see the renowned indie rock band Car Seat Headrest, live at the Fox. My 8 AM train was far too early following the previous night, and with a stroke of genius at 6 AM, I booked a 2 PM train–enough time to recover, and enough time to travel. On the San Joaquin rail, Northbound, I dozed in and out of sleep, listening to Bartleby, the Scrivener by Herman Melville, while logging into Lyft, as Uber is highway robbery in the Bay Area. I rendezvous with one of my best friends at the hotel, a Ramada on 13th; it has been months since I last saw him, and it has certainly been a year since I was alone with him. It was dark now, and going to a concert on an empty stomach sounded less than enjoyable. Our choice was ramen, parallel to The Fox, just a $7 Lyft away.

     The Fox itself, a shining paragon of lost architecture and kindness, as Will Toledo and the band, made sure free bottled water was available for everyone at the various bars. Built in 1928 and renovated in 2009, it captures the comfort of a band like Car Seat Headrest–a coat room to hold your merch comfortably at the show, mellow lighting, and calming stage visuals so as not to overwhelm the senses. This was my first time attending a concert, in which I was not feeling myself fade in and out of existence due to the overwhelming nature of music venues and the Bay Area herself. Perhaps it was the care of Will, Andrew, Ethan, Seth, and Ben, asking the crowd that if they needed help, they only needed to shine their flashlight for help; Will states that the band would stop the music and ask a crew member to check in on the person. Surprisingly, someone in the pit did just that, and with no hesitation, Will stopped singing, Ethan and Seth ceased strumming, Ben halted on the keyboard, and Andrew petered his drum set. Will asked, “Are you okay out there? Can someone go check on them?” And within seconds, he asked, “Give me a thumbs up if they’re alright, I gotta see a lot of thumbs in that direction…” The crowd gave thumbs, and Will stated to the band and crowd, “Now, where were we? Shall we start at ‘now you’ve got me?’” and the band returned to exactly where they left off; such care towards their fans, costing them nothing. Or perhaps, returning to my original thought, it came from Andrew’s incessant reminders for us to drink water, saying things like “Hey, Charlie XCX here, you know what’s brat? Staying hydrated. Go help yourself to the free water in the lobby.” “Hey, it’s Timothée Chalamet; during the production of Dune, I drank 4000 bottles of water–you know who else should be drinking 4000 bottles of water? You guys. Stay hydrated.”

     But enough about their caring demeanor, what about sound? I have always felt that Car Seat Headrest is the only modern rock group performing rock music—on stage, they perform everything live, even their synths. There is no backtrack guiding them—they replicate everything, even the impossible, making for a beautiful take on even their oldest songs. Their lyricism, profound and spiritual, as Toledo was raised Catholic, carries wonderfully composed Biblical themes, highlighting the not-so-juxtaposition of his experiences as a gay man. “We love you, from the top of the balcony to the floor, thank you, get home safe,” Will says to the crowd at the end of the set. The concert was such a unique experience out of all the shows I have attended–I was not dazzled by flashing lights and volume, but rather by the wonderful sound and care that the members truly crafted towards all of their fans. As cliché as this is, I think in this age of hyper-individualism, run amok by capitalism, it is important to go out to concerts like this–see live music, go to a Palestinian-owned coffee shop, browse a used bookstore that doubles as a bar–do something, anything. Music, art, good food, and literature are the epitome of experience, and to experience such things, in person, is to live fully.