By the time Friday night rolled around, CMA Fest had already done its best to remind me that I’m not twenty-five anymore.

After spending Thursday bouncing between artist meetings, live performances, industry events, and enough late-night conversations to fill a season of a reality show, day two arrived with little sympathy. The Nashville sun had spent the afternoon cooking downtown at a respectable 87 degrees, and after miles of walking, countless handshakes, and more bottled water than I’d care to admit, the cool 60-degree evening air felt like a reward.

That reward got even better when I found myself walking into The Local.

Tucked away in Nashville’s West End neighborhood, The Local has quietly become one of Music City’s best-kept secrets. While Broadway often gets the spotlight, venues like this are where you discover the artists who actually deserve it. With its cozy 200-capacity room, welcoming atmosphere, and enough character hanging on the walls to keep you distracted between sets, The Local feels less like a venue and more like the living room Nashville wishes it had.

I arrived near the end of a songwriter round that was already firing on all cylinders. The crowd was engaged, the songs were landing, and the room had that unmistakable Nashville energy where everyone knows they’re witnessing something authentic.

Then Trey Calloway walked on stage.

And the entire room shifted.

Some artists perform songs.

Some artists command a stage.

Trey Calloway does both.

Backed by a stellar five-piece band made up of Nashville veterans, Calloway exploded out of the gate with the confidence of a seasoned headliner and the charisma of a young Garth Brooks. That’s not a comparison I throw around lightly. Plenty of artists can sing. Plenty can entertain. Very few possess that rare ability to make every person in the room feel like they’re part of the show.

From the moment he grabbed the microphone, Trey owned the room.

His set moved effortlessly between original material and fan-requested favorites, and what stood out most wasn’t just the quality of the songs, it was the connection. Every lyric felt lived-in. Every story felt genuine. Every interaction felt natural rather than rehearsed.

In a town full of performers trying desperately to be noticed, Trey never looked like he was trying at all.

That’s usually a sign you’re watching a professional.

One of the night’s most impressive moments had nothing to do with his singing.

Throughout the show, Trey spotted fellow artists Josie Sal and Stephanie Rabus enjoying the performance from the crowd. Instead of simply acknowledging them, he invited each of them to join him on stage at different points during the evening.

It’s a small gesture on paper.

In reality, it says a lot about who an artist is.

Nashville can be competitive. Opportunities are precious. Spotlights can be guarded territory. Yet Trey willingly shared his stage and gave fellow artists a chance to shine in front of an enthusiastic audience. That’s the kind of class that can’t be manufactured by a publicist or taught in a branding seminar.

It’s simply who you are.

As the night rolled on, the energy never dipped. No filler. No dead spots. No moments where the audience started checking their phones or wondering how many songs remained.

Just great songs, great musicianship, and an artist fully in control of his craft.

By the final song, the crowd was completely locked in.

Then came the part that many artists overlook.

The show ended.

Trey’s work didn’t.

Rather than disappearing backstage the moment the final note rang out, he stepped off stage and spent time talking with fans, taking photos, shaking hands, and making sure everyone who had invested their evening in his music felt appreciated.

Again, it sounds simple.

It’s not.

The artists who build careers understand that fans aren’t interruptions to the show, they’re the reason the show exists in the first place.

Trey Calloway understands that better than most.

As CMA Fest continued creating its annual chaos across Nashville, one thing became abundantly clear inside The Local on Friday night: Trey Calloway isn’t just another talented singer-songwriter trying to make his mark.

He’s already making it.

In fact, after watching him effortlessly work a room, command a stage, support fellow artists, and connect with fans long after the music stopped, I left convinced of something I’ve suspected for a while.

When CMA Fest rolls around each year, Trey Calloway might just be the unofficial King of the festival.

And judging by the reaction inside The Local, he’s not giving up that crown anytime soon.

If you get the chance to see Trey Calloway live, take it.

You’ll leave understanding exactly what all the fuss is about.

• treycallowaymusic.com

There are bands that sound good on streaming platforms, and then there are bands that walk into a room and prove they belong there. On Saturday night (May 23, 2026) at The King of Clubs, Twist It made it very clear they are no longer “up-and-coming.” They’re arriving.

At a comfortable 75 degrees in Columbus, the scene outside the venue already felt different before a single note was played. Tour buses lined the building while fans wrapped around aging apartment buildings and a long-forgotten theater that once stood beside what used to be one of North Columbus’ premier entertainment destinations. There was something poetic about it, a new generation of hard rock fans gathering in the shadows of a faded entertainment empire.

And honestly? Seeing that kind of line at 6 PM before doors even opened says a lot.

The King of Clubs continues to prove why it has become one of Ohio’s best live music rooms. The 850-capacity venue delivers the kind of intimate chaos rock shows are supposed to have. Multi-tiered sightlines, loud fans, cold drinks, and not a bad spot in the house. It feels personal without feeling small, the perfect setting for a band like Twist It.

For me, this show had been building for a while. I first discovered Twist It a couple years ago and had them on The Jay Franze Show back on November 25, 2024, still one of the strongest interviews the show has ever had. Even then, despite being barely out of their teens, you could tell there was something different about them. They had vision. Confidence. Direction. Most young bands are still trying to figure out who they are. Twist It already knew.

That confidence exploded onto the stage Saturday night.

As the house lights dropped, the sold-out crowd erupted while the band walked onstage like seasoned veterans. Dressed like modern rock stars and entering to pre-recorded music, they immediately controlled the room before even touching an instrument. Then drummer Sarah Higgins triggered the backing tracks, counted off the opening song, and the place detonated.

They opened with “Dark Thoughts,” which was the perfect call. The song hits like a panic attack wrapped in distortion, aggressive, emotional, and explosive from the first beat. Logan Smith’s guitar work was crushing live, balancing djent-inspired precision with massive melodic hooks. Meanwhile, Sarah Higgins delivered the kind of tight, machine-like drum performance that modern rock absolutely depends on.

And yes, they use backing tracks.

But unlike countless bands using tracks as a crutch, Twist It uses them as a weapon. This is still a true trio. Sarah plays the bass in advance and triggers the track while actively playing drums, which somehow makes the entire operation even more impressive. Everything had purpose. Nothing felt fake.

Then came the moment that really mattered, Kayla Hallman stepping to the mic.

Live vocals are where many younger modern rock bands get exposed. Studio polish disappears quickly under stage lights. But Hallman didn’t just survive the moment, she owned it. She delivered every lyric with conviction, emotion, and enough raw energy to make the crowd feel every ounce of anxiety and tension built into the songs. By the second chorus, fans were already screaming lyrics back at her.

That’s not hype.

That’s connection.

What stood out most throughout the set was the chemistry between all three members. You can teach technique. You can improve stage presence. But chemistry is either there or it isn’t. Twist It already has it, and that’s dangerous for everybody else trying to compete in modern hard rock.

Logan Smith deserves serious recognition here as well. His playing throughout the night was effortless in the best possible way, massive rhythm tones, sharp transitions, and melodic solos that ripped through the room without becoming self-indulgent. Every note served the song.

If there was one weak point during the night, it came from the front-of-house mix. The band was working with the house engineer, which is always a gamble. Sometimes it works because the engineer knows the room. Sometimes it doesn’t because they don’t fully understand the nuances of the band’s sound.

Unfortunately, the low end around 60 Hz became muddy throughout portions of the set, causing Sarah’s impressive double-bass work to lose some definition in the room. More concerning, Kayla’s vocals occasionally sat too low in the mix, forcing her to push harder vocally than she should have needed to.

To be clear, it didn’t hurt the performance. If anything, it added a little extra chaos and intensity to the show. But long-term, consistently oversinging against a heavy mix can become dangerous territory for any vocalist.

The band closed the night with their latest single, “Honest,” and it felt like the final statement of a breakout performance. Heavy, emotional, polished, and absolutely massive live.

Then came the part that told you everything you need to know about who this band really is.

After walking offstage to screaming fans, the members of Twist It headed directly to the merch table, taking photos, signing autographs, and talking with every single fan who waited to meet them. No ego. No fake rockstar attitude. Just three hardworking musicians understanding exactly who helped put them on that stage.

Class act.

There are plenty of bands chasing the future of modern hard rock right now. Very few actually feel capable of leading it.

Twist It just might.

• twistitband.com

There are tribute shows.

There are nostalgia tours.

And then there are nights where a guy walks on stage at 67 years old, stares Father Time directly in the face, and basically tells him to shut the f~~k up and sit down.

That was Friday night at Taft Theatre as Geoff Tate and his band Operation: Mindcrime brought Operation: Mindcrime to life in a performance that felt less like a concert and more like a full-blown theatrical detonation inside one of Cincinnati’s most historic rooms.

Built in 1928, the Taft has seen legends come and go for nearly a century. Friday night, it witnessed another reminder that great music doesn’t age, it just gets louder, darker, and somehow even more dangerous.

The lights dropped. The room went black.

Then came the unmistakable hospital sounds.

“I remember now. I remember how it started. I can’t remember yesterday. I just remember doing what they told me, told me, told me…”

And just like that, the audience was no longer in downtown Cincinnati. They were inside the world Operation: Mindcrime.

For fans of Queensrÿche, this wasn’t just another catalog run-through. This was a front-to-back performance of one of the greatest concept albums ever recorded, delivered with precision, intensity, and enough emotional weight to remind everyone exactly why this record still matters nearly four decades later.

Let’s address the obvious elephant in the room: Geoff Tate hasn’t been in Queensrÿche since 2012. The band kept the name. Tate retained the rights to perform the Operation: Mindcrime albums in their entirety and ultimately built an entire touring identity around them.

Honestly? Good.

Because what happened Friday night didn’t feel like a watered-down nostalgia act clinging to old glory. It felt like the guy who originally helped create the madness simply decided to reclaim it.

And here’s the truly absurd part: Tate still sounds unbelievable.

At 67 years old, the man is still hitting notes that singers half his age dodge in fear. There was no visible decline. No “adjusted melodies.” No strategic crowd-sing moments to hide vocal fatigue. He attacked the material with the same sharpness, tone, and theatrical command that made him one of progressive metal’s defining voices in the first place.

The band behind him absolutely deserved the spotlight too.

Kieran Robertson was a monster all night. The guy played with the confidence and swagger of a veteran arena guitarist while still carrying the fire and recklessness of someone young enough to think sleep is optional. At just 27 years old, Robertson ripped through the album’s intricate leads with frightening precision while somehow making every solo feel dangerous instead of rehearsed. There’s a difference between “playing the notes” and owning them. He owned them.

Clodagh McCarthy brought a massive theatrical presence to the stage, particularly during her performance as Sister Mary. Her vocals were powerful, haunting, and emotionally sharp, exactly what this material demands. Visually, she became part of the production itself. Positioned stage right on a raised riser beside the drum kit, her rotating keyboard stand and perfectly timed stage fan gave the performance an almost cinematic quality. Somewhere between gothic theater and prog-metal fever dream, it worked brilliantly.

The rhythm section deserves major credit too. Every transition, tempo shift, and layered arrangement landed with surgical execution. Operation: Mindcrime is not simple material. These songs twist, turn, and evolve constantly. One weak link destroys the illusion. There weren’t any weak links Friday night.

And then… things got weird.

Midway through the set, the band suddenly bolted off stage.

Not “rockstar dramatic exit” bolted.

More like “something is very wrong” bolted.

The audience sat in confused silence for a moment before Geoff Tate calmly returned to explain that the tour bus was apparently on fire outside and that Cincinnati’s finest was handling the situation.

Because of course this show needed an actual real-life disaster subplot.

In true rock-and-roll fashion, the crowd stayed patient, Tate disappeared again, and the band returned shortly afterward apologizing before jumping directly back into the performance like, “Anyway… where were we before the possible explosion?”

Honestly, the interruption somehow made the night even more memorable. You can’t script that kind of chaos. Well… unless you’re in Spinal Tap.

The final stretch of the evening was pure payoff. The band completed Operation: Mindcrime, added material from Operation: Mindcrime III, and then rolled into several classics that reminded everyone just how deep Geoff Tate’s catalog really is.

“Empire” hit like a freight train.

“Jet City Woman” turned the entire theater into a choir.

And “Silent Lucidity” became the emotional centerpiece of the night.

Before performing it, Tate explained that it remains his favorite song because fans constantly approach him with stories tied to it, memories, relationships, moments in life, and yes… apparently the conception stories of their children. Nothing says progressive metal quite like thousands of people collectively realizing a power ballad accidentally became part of America’s population growth strategy.

By the time the final notes faded inside the Taft, one thing was painfully clear:

This wasn’t a legacy artist limping through old material for a paycheck.

This was a masterclass in how timeless music survives lineup changes, industry politics, aging, and even apparently a flaming tour bus.

For one night in Cincinnati, Geoff Tate and Operation: Mindcrime didn’t just revisit a classic album.

They reminded everyone why it became one in the first place.

• geofftate.com