Hayden Homes Amphitheater doesn’t screw around when it comes to safety. With a thunderstorm rolling in like the apocalypse, staff kicked out hundreds of people who had already entered the venue — yes, even the chill ones, sending everyone off to find shelter. My wife, kid, and I ended up in the Old Mill Ben & Jerry’s, watching lightning split the sky while licking melting scoops and wondering if the night was a total wash. (Spoiler: it wasn’t.) Also, side note: UltraViolet is a top-tier Ben & Jerrys flavor and I hope you all get to experience the flavor of “purple and marshmallow.” We spoke to several folks inside that shared that, while at first, they thought the venue was overreacting, they were glad they weren’t soaked to the bone.
Once the sky calmed the hell down, the venue snapped right back into action, doors reopened, and Futurebirds hit the stage like nothing had happened. This was my first time seeing or even really hearing them, and I was not prepared for the level of charm and stage chemistry these dorks had. I had done a cursory listen to the top songs on Spotify, but that was about it. Their set was tight, vibey, and a little theatrical. They are posers in the best way: totally aware of the size of the stage and unafraid to strike a pose mid-riff or mid-chorus. But theatrics only work if the songs hold up, and these absolutely did.
One song, titled “Virginia Slims,” hit way harder than expected. I forgot that I listened to this and noted the title in my feeble little brain. I didn’t go into this show expecting to get gut-punched by memories of my mom (RIP and all that), but the second that title dropped, I was thrown back to buying my mom her favorite cigs at Albertsons — once after work in high school (Virginia Slims), and once more when she cried after I got my first tattoo (after her palate had evolved(?) to Marlboro Ultra Light 100s). Grief is weird like that. It snakes into you through a lyric or a scent or a cigarette brand you haven’t thought about in years.
OK, back to the show.
After a truncated Futurebirds set (fuck you, storm), Caamp took the stage, and they made it clear from the jump: this was a celebration. Their walk-on song? “Man, I Feel Like a Woman.” Power move. Taylor Meier strolled on with the confidence of someone who knew a silly little secret about everyone in the crowd. From the first “YIP!” to the final strum, the band delivered a massive, joyful, emotional set spanning nearly two dozen songs. Soaked fans screamed every word like they were in church.
Caamp may often bear an Americana label, but on stage? They’re straight-up rock stars. The whole night felt like a reward for sticking out the storm—an invitation to let go for a few hours and just feel alive. Their set was one of those “core memory unlocked” kind of things, the kind of night you remember in flashes: wet shoes, friends hugging, harmonies echoing off the Deschutes River.
The tour’s over now, but you’d better believe both of these bands will be back on the road. I’ll be first in line for a full Futurebirds headlining set next time around. And if Caamp rolls through your town? Get your ass to the show.
