Some concerts are assignments. Some are nights out. And every once in a while, one comes along that manages to reach all the way back to the kid you used to be.

Dokken at the Rose Music Center was one of those nights.

It was another hot and steamy September day in Ohio, with temperatures flirting with triple digits and enough humidity to make you question why anyone voluntarily leaves air conditioning. I started packing my camera gear early because the Rose Music Center was a little over an hour from home, and there was another complication: I had been approved to shoot from the pit, but management reserved the right to move photographers to front of house.

In photographer language, that meant one thing.

Bring everything.

So I did.

As if the heat wasn’t enough, rain moved in during the drive, adding another layer of humidity to an already sticky evening. By the time I arrived in Huber Heights, the weather had apparently decided we should experience every possible form of moisture at once.

Opened in 2015, the Stuart & Mimi Rose Music Center at The Heights is a 4,200-seat, fully covered amphitheater just north of Dayton. Despite having covered countless shows over the years, this was my first time shooting there, so I arrived early, picked up my credentials, and was happy to see a familiar name on the media list: my good friend and previous guest of the show, photographer Tom Rentz.

Tom and I grabbed our gear, received our marching orders and headed toward the VIP area, where we had a chance to grab some food, talk shop, and work out a game plan for the evening. Since Tom had experience with the venue, I was more than happy to take advantage of the free scouting report.

It wasn’t long before the house lights dropped.

Time to work.

Lynch Mob Sets the Bar

Opening the evening was Lynch Mob, led by legendary guitarist George Lynch.

For anyone familiar with Dokken’s history, Lynch’s presence made this more than your average opening slot. He was a key piece of Dokken’s classic lineup alongside Don Dokken, Mick Brown, and Jeff Pilson, helping create the guitar-driven sound behind some of the band’s most memorable records.

But this wasn’t a history lesson.

Lynch Mob came to play.

From the moment George Lynch stepped onto the stage, there was no question why his name continues to carry so much weight among rock guitarists. His playing was aggressive when it needed to be, melodic when it mattered and effortlessly cool throughout. There are players who seem to fight their instrument all night, and then there are guys like Lynch who make it look like the guitar simply knows what he wants before he asks.

The entire band delivered, and as an opening act, Lynch Mob created a slight problem for everyone following them.

They set the bar pretty damn high.

The Queen of Metal Celebrates 68

Next came Lita Ford.

Calling Ford a rock veteran almost feels inadequate. Her career stretches back to The Runaways before she established herself as a solo artist and became one of the defining women of hard rock and heavy metal. Her catalog includes the massive “Close My Eyes Forever,” recorded with Ozzy Osbourne, but her influence reaches well beyond any single song.

This particular performance came with another reason to celebrate.

It was Lita Ford’s 68th birthday.

The milestone was acknowledged from the stage, turning an already memorable stop into something a little more personal. Ford looked completely at home under the lights, delivering the kind of performance that comes from decades of knowing exactly who you are as an artist.

There was no attempt to pretend it was 1988 again.

There didn’t need to be.

This was Lita Ford in 2026, still holding a guitar, still commanding a stage, and still showing why generations of musicians who followed her owe her a debt of gratitude.

And then it was time for the band I had been waiting for.

In My Dreams

Dokken has always been one of my favorite bands.

Growing up with this music, songs like “In My Dreams,” “Alone Again,” “Breaking the Chains,” and “Burning Like a Flame” weren’t simply tracks from another rock band. They were part of the soundtrack.

Formed in Los Angeles in the late 1970s, Dokken became one of the bands that helped define melodic hard rock during the 1980s. They sold millions of albums, landed songs on the charts and earned a Grammy nomination for Beast from the East. But statistics only explain part of Dokken’s longevity.

The songs explain the rest.

When Don Dokken and the band finally took the stage at Rose Music Center, decades of memories came with them.

It was also impossible not to notice the physical challenges Don Dokken now faces following complications from spinal and neck surgery in 2019. Those challenges have clearly changed the way he moves onstage.

But they didn’t keep him off it.

A chair had been placed onstage for him if he needed it.

He never used it.

Instead, Dokken remained on his feet throughout the full set, working through a catalog that has followed both the band and its fans for decades. There was something meaningful about watching him continue to perform despite the obvious physical limitations. This wasn’t about pretending time hadn’t passed. Quite the opposite.

The years were right there onstage.

So were the songs.

And sometimes that makes the music mean a little more.

The band worked through the hits, and for me, there was something surreal about standing in the pit with a camera in my hands photographing a band I had listened to growing up. I’ve been fortunate enough to spend a large portion of my life around music. I’ve worked in studios, stood backstage, mixed shows, and photographed more concerts than I can count.

Yet every now and then, the fan still manages to sneak past the professional.

This was one of those nights.

Then came the encore.

And everything changed.

Closing the Loop

George Lynch walked back onto the stage.

Suddenly, the guy we had photographed opening the evening was standing alongside Dokken again.

Even better, photographers were allowed back into the pit to shoot it.

There are moments when you’re very aware of the camera settings, the lighting, the shutter speed and whether you’ve got the shot.

Then there are moments when you have to remind yourself to actually press the shutter because you’re too busy appreciating what’s happening in front of you.

Seeing George Lynch perform with Dokken provided the perfect ending to the night. For longtime fans, the history between Lynch and Don Dokken is well documented, which only made seeing them share a stage again feel more significant.

For me, it closed a loop.

I had watched Lynch Mob open the evening. I had photographed George Lynch doing what George Lynch does. Then, hours later, I was standing a few feet from the stage photographing him playing with Dokken.

The band I grew up listening to.

With the guitarist I associated with those records.

Through the lens of my camera.

Not bad for a Saturday night in Ohio.

When the final notes faded, it was time to pack everything back into the camera bag, say goodbye to Tom and make the long drive home.

Naturally, the rain joined me again.

By the time I finally made it through the front door, common sense suggested that I should put the gear down and go to bed.

Common sense has apparently never photographed a concert.

I sat down at the computer and started going through the night’s images.

One became ten. Ten became a hundred. Before I knew it, it was 4:00 in the morning.

I wasn’t tired.

I was still back at the Rose Music Center.

That’s the thing about nights like this. You can document them with thousands of photographs, but the best part isn’t necessarily what’s stored on the memory cards.

It’s realizing that somewhere between the heat, the rain, the camera gear, Lita Ford celebrating a birthday, George Lynch tearing into a guitar, and Don Dokken refusing to sit down, you got to spend a few hours with the music that helped shape you.

More than four decades after Dokken began its journey, the lineup may have changed, the world certainly has, and none of us are the same people we were when these songs first came blasting through our speakers.

But when the lights go down and that first familiar riff hits?

For a little while, none of that matters.

Every show has a story.

Sometimes, if you’re lucky, part of that story is your own.

Links

• Artist: https://dokken.net/
• Artist: https://www.litafordonline.com/
• Artist: https://georgelynch.com/
• Photos: https://jayfranze.com/dokken-rose-music-center-huber-heights-oh-9-19-26-photos/
• Photos: https://jayfranze.com/lita-ford-rose-music-center-huber-heights-oh-9-19-26-photos/
• Photos: https://jayfranze.com/lynch-mob-rose-music-center-huber-heights-oh-9-19-26-photos/

After a very busy, and somewhat stressful, day in the studio, I was more than ready to trade the control room for a concert.

So I packed up my camera gear, hopped in the car, and headed toward Lori’s Roadhouse in West Chester, Ohio, to shoot David Adam Byrnes.

There was no looking back.

By this point, Lori’s Roadhouse has become a familiar stop for me. I’ve covered several shows there, and every trip seems to bring a slightly different experience. With its massive room, country atmosphere, dance floor, and stage capable of handling everything from up-and-coming artists to established touring acts, Lori’s has developed an identity all its own.

This time, I was joined by my good friend Matthew Fritsch, lead singer of Life After This.

It was Matthew’s first visit to Lori’s, so while I knew what to expect, he was taking everything in for the first time. After a quick verification of our credentials, we found a couple of seats at the bar. I started setting up my camera gear while making my way through a plate of nachos, and Matt and I did what musicians inevitably do when they get together, we talked shop.

Music. Bands. Gear. Venues. Sound.

Matthew was particularly interested in hearing the room and seeing what Lori’s sound system could do once the show started.

But before David Adam Byrnes could take the stage, there was another Lori’s tradition to get through: dance lessons.

Tuesday and Thursday nights at Lori’s regularly feature dance lessons, and they’ve become a big part of the venue’s personality. The floor was already full of people moving together before Byrnes played a note.

That created an interesting challenge.

A crowd showing up specifically to dance is already engaged, but not necessarily with the artist who is about to take the stage. Once the lessons ended, Byrnes would have to give them a reason to stay on that floor.

Then the lights dimmed.

The walk-out music started.

That was my cue.

I grabbed my camera and moved into position as David Adam Byrnes and his band hit the stage.

And the dance floor never stopped.

That may have been one of the best compliments the audience could have given him.

Rather than asking the room to abandon the energy it already had, Byrnes stepped into it. His personality, music, and stage presence worked naturally with the atmosphere at Lori’s. The people who had been dancing before the show simply kept dancing once he started playing.

There was no awkward transition between dance lessons and concert.

It simply became a David Adam Byrnes show.

That connection fits Byrnes particularly well. His music blends the energy of contemporary country with the storytelling sensibilities that have always been at the heart of the genre. There’s an authenticity to what he does that doesn’t feel manufactured or overly polished for the sake of chasing whatever happens to be trending.

Instead, his songs feel lived in.

They deal with the things country music has always handled best, love, life, perseverance, relationships, and trying to remain grounded while everything around you keeps moving.

Live, that translates into a performer who seems comfortable letting the songs and his personality do the work.

And on this particular Thursday night, it worked.

As I moved around the room shooting, I eventually found myself stage right near the merch table. It was being managed by a friendly woman who, as it turned out, seemed to know all of the band’s dirt.

Naturally, I had questions.

To her credit, she put up with me and answered plenty of them.

Unfortunately, whoever decided to place the merch table directly beside the amps clearly wasn’t concerned with communication. Trying to carry on a conversation there was somewhere between difficult and impossible, so our conversations tended to come in short bursts between songs and blasts from the stage.

Still, those little interactions are part of what makes covering live music fun. The concert itself is obviously the centerpiece, but there are always stories happening around the edges, the conversations at the bar, the people behind the merch table, the crew, the fans, and the musicians hanging around before and after the show.

Those moments are often what turn another night of live music into something memorable.

Byrnes and his band kept the room moving throughout the night, and it wasn’t some oversized production trick or carefully choreographed moment.

It was connection.

He walked into a room that already had its own energy and found a way to become part of it rather than compete against it.

That’s harder than it looks.

Eventually, the cameras were packed away, another night at Lori’s was in the books, and Matthew and I headed home.

But the show apparently wasn’t quite finished with him.

During the ride, Matthew brought up Byrnes’ music a couple of different times. By the end of the night, he had already decided he was going to spend some time listening to more of it the next day.

For an independent artist trying to build genuine fans one show at a time, I’m not sure there’s a much better review than that.

Someone walked into Lori’s Roadhouse unfamiliar with David Adam Byrnes.

He walked out wanting to hear more.

And sometimes, that’s exactly what a great live show is supposed to do.

Every show has a story. This one just happened to keep the dance floor moving.

Links

• Artist: https://www.davidadambyrnes.com/
• Photos: https://jayfranze.com/david-adam-byrnes-loris-roadhouse-west-chester-oh-8-29-26-photos/

Hot doesn’t begin to describe it.

When I left my house around 5 p.m. and headed toward Riverbend Music Center for Five Finger Death Punch, the temperature was pushing 100 degrees, with enough humidity to make the short walk from the parking lot to the gate feel like an endurance test. By the time I made it inside, I already felt like I needed a change of clothes.

But this was Five Finger Death Punch, and a little Cincinnati summer heat wasn’t going to get in the way.

My friend Bruce, who was mixing front of house for the show, was nice enough to invite me out and leave a couple of passes at the box office. After picking them up, I headed inside Riverbend (A 20,500-capacity amphitheater sitting along the banks of the Ohio River).

Built for the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra in 1984, Riverbend has become the venue of choice for summer concerts. Over the years, just about every genre imaginable has found its way onto that stage. On this particular Monday night, however, subtlety wasn’t exactly on the schedule.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to shoot from the photo pit for this one. Instead, I was given the opportunity to shoot from front of house.

As it turned out, that might have been the best place I could have been.

Before Five Finger Death Punch took the stage, Bruce hooked me up with some amazing seats where I was able to catch the first couple of acts, Eva Under Fire and Cody Jinks.

Both killed it.

I’ve been a fan of Cody Jinks for a while, so I already had an idea of what to expect from him. Eva Under Fire was a different story. This was my first time seeing them live, and let’s just say they left with another fan.

Once Jinks finished his set, I made my way over to FOH and met up with Bruce. We had some time to catch up, talk gear, and do what people who have spent far too much of their lives around audio equipment inevitably do, talk about more audio equipment.

Then the lights went down.

I’ve seen Five Finger Death Punch a handful of times over the years, so I wasn’t walking into this show without expectations. I knew the intensity. I knew the songs. I knew the kind of audience they attract and the connection the band has built with its fans.

But this felt different.

The production was massive.

Five Finger Death Punch has never exactly been known for doing things halfway, but this show took that philosophy to another level. The enormous stage production transformed Riverbend into something that felt built specifically for the band. From FOH, I could see the entire picture rather than just one piece of it, and that’s where the scale of the production really became apparent.

And then there was the sound.

Don’t tell Bruce I said this, but it sounded amazing.

There is something uniquely satisfying about hearing a heavy band through a properly tuned large-scale system. Five Finger Death Punch’s music is built on weight, the guitars have to hit, the drums have to punch, and the vocals have to sit on top of all of it without losing the aggression that makes the band what it is.

From where I was sitting, everything hit exactly where it needed to.

But as good as the audio was, something else was helping make my full-stage photos come alive.

The lighting.

Lighting designer Bryan Hartley absolutely crushed it.

Shooting from FOH means giving up the proximity and intimacy you get in the pit, but it also gives you something the pit can’t: perspective. From that distance, I could capture the entire stage, and Hartley’s lighting turned those wide shots into some of my favorites of the night. The colors, movement, timing, and sheer scale of the lighting complemented the band’s production rather than simply illuminating it.

Thank you, Bryan.

After spending some time talking with Bruce and getting the shots I needed, I eventually put the camera down and grabbed a seat directly behind Bruce and Bryan.

That’s when the night became even more interesting.

I’ve spent enough years around concerts and production to know what happens behind the scenes, but there’s still something fascinating about sitting there and watching talented people execute a show at this level.

Bruce and Bryan weren’t simply pushing buttons and moving faders.

They were performing.

Sitting behind them, I watched the two of them run the show almost like conductors leading a symphony. Every cue mattered. Every lighting change, every transition, every adjustment happened in real time while thousands of people watched the result without necessarily thinking about the people responsible for making it happen.

And that’s exactly how it’s supposed to be.

When production is done right, the audience shouldn’t be thinking about the lighting console or wondering what the front-of-house engineer is doing. They should simply feel the show.

And Riverbend felt this one.

Five Finger Death Punch has spent more than two decades building its reputation as one of modern hard rock and heavy metal’s most recognizable bands. Formed in Las Vegas in 2005, the group has collected platinum and gold records, dominated rock radio, and developed an intensely loyal fanbase along the way.

Seeing them live makes it easy to understand why.

There’s an unapologetic quality to a Five Finger Death Punch concert. Everything is big, the riffs, the attitude, the production, the crowd response. Yet underneath all of that aggression is a connection between the band and its audience that has always been a significant part of their identity, particularly through their longstanding support of military members and veterans.

That relationship is difficult to manufacture.

After seeing the band several times, I could have walked into Riverbend expecting another Five Finger Death Punch show and probably still walked away satisfied.

Instead, I walked away appreciating the show from an entirely different perspective.

Maybe it was because I was shooting from FOH instead of the pit. Maybe it was because I spent part of the night sitting behind the people responsible for translating what was happening onstage into what the rest of us experienced. Or maybe the combination of the band, production, lighting, sound, and a packed summer night at Riverbend simply came together exactly the way it was supposed to.

Whatever it was, this one felt different.

The temperature may have been pushing 100 degrees when I arrived, but by the time Five Finger Death Punch took over Riverbend, the weather wasn’t the hottest thing in Cincinnati.

And somewhere behind thousands of screaming fans, two guys at front of house were quietly helping make the whole thing happen.

Every show has a story. Sometimes, the best part of that story is happening on the other side of the stage.