On August 24th, waking up felt like a chore. I was stuck in a fog of self-doubt, I’d shaken this off before, but that morning I wasn’t sure how to. Still, I was determined. This is the story of how photographing a SOLD OUT Modest Mouse show in Tucson, Arizona pulled me from that fog and reminded me of a once sacred Sunday night ritual involving the band.
I arrived at the Historic Rialto Theatre about 30 minutes before Friko, a band I was looking forward to seeing, would take the stage. Tucson crowds usually show up late, but not this night. People packed in early, likely hoping for a good spot for the headliners. The wait didn’t feel like a chore for long. Friko’s youthful energy lit up the room, with their frontperson rocking a bold red jumpsuit and commanding the stage with pure heart.
I’d seen Modest Mouse play this same stage once before. They were the first live band I saw after the world paused for the pandemic. The memory of that first show stayed with me, and deep down I knew this one would be just as meaningful. Still, my head was loud with doubt. But when frontman Isaac Brock stepped out in a blazer, corduroys, and a hat reading “¿por qué no?”, I knew I had to shake the doubt and get to work.
With 30+ years under their belt, Modest Mouse knows how to craft a setlist. They have a rotating setlist every night so I was interested to see what they would start us off with. They opened with “Dark Center of the Universe,” a slow burn that mirrored my inner state: building tension, erupting into chaos and light. That’s when my creative crisis hit hardest. Battling self-doubt in a storm of flickering lights, I was determined to capture the night honestly not just with my camera, but with feeling.
Then came their immensely popular hit “Float On.” Maybe they sensed I needed it. From there, the set became a journey: high energy with “Doin’ the Cockroach,” nostalgia with “Gravity Rides Everything,” dancing with “Dashboard.” The band sounded incredible, they were alive and ready to play forever.
It was during the encore, when they played “Dramamine,” that everything clicked. I used to work at a tea shop, and Sunday nights were always a closing shift with a good friend of mine. No matter how chaotic the day had been, we’d blast that song and quietly work side-by-side, it was our own little ritual. Hearing it live brought me back to those sacred, grounding moments.
It reminded me to trust myself. Even on the hard days, even when I don’t feel like I captured anything worth keeping, the magic is still there. Maybe this wasn’t my strongest batch of photos, but I will just keep telling myself that maybe I am just being a little bit too modest.
