Blue October proves therapy should be loud, interactive, and musical

At what point did Blue October become irrelevant? I started asking myself that question about twenty minutes into Blue October’s set Wednesday night at the Royal Oak Music Theater.

After their 2006 single “Hate Me” became the anthem for anyone who had emotional issues that they couldn’t express, their album “Foiled” went on to go platinum and Blue October became the alternative rock band that was cool to like. Cool because they sort of came out of nowhere and because lead singer Justin Furstenfeld expressed himself as someone so deep in his own emotional pit that he was unable to notice the attention the band was getting – even if he wanted to.

A few years ago, “Foiled” was one of the most heavily rotated albums in my collection. And, as I thought about the factors that contributed to the band’s fade-out, I wondered if Furstenfeld even noticed that he was playing before a crowd littered with Blue October shirts, intently watching his every move.

The night kicked off with music from IAmDynamite, the energetic opener for the night. Local musicians Chris Phillips and Chris Martin are the entirety of the band, which is impressive, because, with my eyes closed, I thought four guys were on stage. They have a sugary/rock-ish danceable sound – the kind of dance music you can still call rock – and Martin struck me as a grown-up Dennis the Menace who chose the path of music (go to their next show and you’ll know what I mean).

When it was time for Blue October’s set, Furstenfeld stood on stage like he was encased in a shell, his black hoodie completely covering his eyes and his hands gripping the microphone stand like he was worried about being blown away.

As the show went on, he broke down that shell until he was all over the stage, expressing his pain through singing, screaming, talking, gesturing, laughing – and almost everything in between. You didn’t have to like the band’s music to appreciate their live show. They have an alluring presence, and Furstenfeld’s stage performance is honest and captivating. He would often tangent into monologue-type sessions in the middle of songs, where I felt like I was witnessing his coming-to-terms with an estranged loved one or consoling his daughter. The emotion was so strong that it sucked the crowd right in, and I felt like I was slowly becoming a Blue Meanie, which is what die-hard Blue October fans are called in the band’s hometown of Houston, Texas.

It was then that I was reminded why I used to be a Blue October fan. Justin Furstenfeld is a writer at heart, and he writes about things that people can relate to. Fathers struggling to connect with their kids. Twenty-somethings fighting to overcome addiction. Suicide and divorce and companionship and the joy of family. Years ago, I listened to all that emotion through my iPod. Wednesday night, I finally got to see it. And just like that, Blue October became relevant again.

Photos by Kristin Slater