📍South Side Ballroom — Oct. 19, 2025
Written by Clinton Camper
Is it ever not packed at South Side Ballroom? I walked in right as Almost Monday hit their first note, and the place was already buzzing. Drinks in hand, crowd pressed to the barricade, that Dallas energy dialed all the way up before the headliner even touched the stage.
If you’ve never seen Almost Monday live, imagine the physical embodiment of “California cool” — if the sun had a band, it’d be them. The San Diego trio looked like they’d just hopped out of the ocean and wandered into the spotlight. Their frontman was pure charisma: spinning, kicking, doing weirdly graceful yoga-meets-karate moves, all while somehow keeping his sunglasses glued to his face the entire set. Between songs, he slipped into cartoon voices and cracked jokes, but the performance itself was sharp, catchy, rhythmic indie-pop that had the crowd bouncing the entire time. They were clearly having fun, and so was everyone watching.
Then came The Band Camino, and Dallas lost its mind. The lights dimmed, “Has Just Begun” played over the speakers, and the roar that greeted them could’ve registered on a seismograph.
They opened with “Daphne Blue”, the sleek, guitar-driven anthem that’s basically become their calling card. It’s the kind of song that defines a band’s live presence: confident, polished, built for rooms exactly like this. From there, they launched into “Infinity” and “Hush Hush”, and it was clear they weren’t easing in. Every lyric echoed back at them from the crowd, hundreds of voices perfectly in sync.
Both Spencer Stewart and Jeffery Jordan were switching between guitars and piano like it was second nature. Their chemistry onstage is one of those things that feels effortless, but you know it’s built on years of grinding it out together. There’s no big light show, no pyrotechnics, just clean musicianship and a connection that hits right in the chest.
When “I Think I Like You” started, the volume of the crowd doubled. Spencer, the brown-haired heartthrob of the group, grinned into the lights as the floor collectively lost its composure. The girls in the crowd swooned — no other word for it — and he knew exactly how to play into it without overdoing it.
At one point, Jeffery pointed out how special Dallas has been for them, reminiscing about their first show here back in 2017, a tiny gig at Prophet Bar. He laughed talking about the first van they ever bought, a white 10-passenger Ford they immediately drove to Texas. Dallas, he said, has always been good to them, and from the sound of the screaming, the feeling’s mutual.
The middle of the set brought a change of pace with a stripped-down acoustic section; four stools, soft lighting, and a quiet that felt almost reverent. “Damage” and “Hates Me Yet (222)” hit like emotional uppercuts, and then they surprised the crowd with a cover of Justin Bieber’s “Daisies.” Before starting, Jeffery teased, “We do this one because Spencer’s voice just sounds too damn good on it,” and he wasn’t wrong. The crowd swayed and sang along softly. It felt like a living room performance tucked inside a massive venue.
As the band picked things back up, they tore through “Karaoke”, “What Am I Missing?”, and “Heaven,” before diving into their collab “Never A Good Time” with NOTD. It was one of the most purely fun moments of the night. Spencer and Jeffery grinned through the whole song, clearly feeding off the audience.
Later came “Told You So”, “Haunted,” and “1 Last Cigarette”, each one hitting with that signature Band Camino blend of glossy pop hooks and emotional weight. You could tell how tight the band has become, the rhythm section was locked in, the harmonies crisp, the transitions smooth.
When the final notes of “See Through” hit, the crowd was still shouting lyrics like they were trying to keep the night from ending. But of course, they weren’t done yet. For the encore, they returned for “12:34” before closing the night with “What I Want.”
There’s something so grounded about The Band Camino’s rise. They’ve gone from Memphis college shows to selling out 4,000-cap rooms, but they haven’t lost the emotional core that made people care in the first place. They don’t need pyro or elaborate visuals, just songs that make people feel something.
And in Dallas, that’s exactly what they did. The crowd didn’t just sing along; they believed every word.