I’m a pedophile. Let’s just make it official because what I couldn’t take my eyes off of at the Tyde show was the delicious man-boy that reminded me of Stacy Peralta and I wanted to hold him in my arms and make all his possible sadness disappear while he practices his bass and I explain who Nabokov is. And, yes, Bill Ross had put surf movies on which go straight to my G spot, and yessss, I had been spending the 4 or so hours before the show picking apart and watching Equus, but that beautiful little bassist for the Tyde is simply adorable. Adorable! When did the Tyde, not exactly spring kittens, find like, a 17 year old boy to play bass with them? I don’t know but I love it. And I love them. The Tyde played a simply shimmering set as always, with rolling melodies, harmonies and fantastic rhythm to drive it all straight to your heart. Their particular kind of California folk rock beckons forth the kind of feeling you get driving on PCH with the sun on your face. Cliché, but true – their music invoke a feeling so particular to California it’s undeniable: blithely luscious, free, melodious, spirited and full of sunshine even in the dark corners of Haskell’s Prospector on a Saturday night. But just a tip for The Hubcaps? Love the covers, but y’all need a damn flashlight to help you find the notes.  Seriously. It hurt. Still a great show all in all.

— Chesney Higgins