Concert diary: Blue October, Mission Ballroom, Denver

Denver- 24 October 2025. There are nights that feel carefully planned, and then there are nights that feel earned. Standing outside Mission Ballroom in Denver, jet lagged and slightly overwhelmed by the reality that I had travelled more than 15,500 kilometers from South Africa for this moment, I already knew this would be the latter. Blue October have never played in my home country. This was not just a concert. It felt like music pilgrimage.

Before the doors even opened, the experience began to peel back layers most people never see. The soundcheck was intimate, loose and unexpectedly emotional. Ironically their first question was where people were from. They were stunned as much as the crowd when they found out I was from the southern tip of Africa.

The band played two songs, including Hot Stuff, which already carries the confidence of a modern anthem. Between songs, they answered questions, joked with the crowd and accepted buckets of fudge from a fan with genuine delight. It did not feel like fan service. It felt like gratitude. They also announced plans for a 20-year anniversary celebration of “Foiled”, a moment that landed heavily for those of us who have grown up alongside that album.

I have always been hesitant to meet my heroes. Too many times, admiration has been eroded by ego, arrogance or indifference. It has become worse these days with social media, artists attacking the crowd from the stage and political differences.

That fear did not last long. It was clear from the soundcheck that they were here to make music and entertain their fans. This continued as they stood for photos with everyone who had gone to the Soundcheck experience. Unlike most bands, they did not rush the process and seemed interested in every fan’s stories.

What people often do not see is what happens around the edges. Before the show, Will Knaak stood in the queue outside, speaking to fans. There was no entourage, no barrier. He looked genuinely happy, like someone aware he has been given a second lease on life and determined not to waste it. That energy translated directly onto the stage.

As the venue filled and the lights dropped, Blue October took the stage wrapped in deep blue hues. From the first notes of “Further Dive”, it was clear this was not only a greatest hits parade. This was storytelling. Justin Furstenfeld’s voice carried both fragility and strength, the sound of someone who has lived every word he sings. Ryan Delahoussaye’s violin cut through the room like memory itself, while Jeremy Furstenfeld, Matt Noveskey and Will Knaak held everything together with quiet authority.

They played some of my personal favourite songs like “All That We Are”, “Bleed Out”, “This Is What I Live For”, “Into the Ocean”, “Home”, “Sway”, “Everything We Lost in the Fire”, “Down Here Waiting” and “Only Lost is Found”. Each song was met with full voice singalongs and moments of quiet reflection. The truth is they could have sang 50 songs and still not covered every song that the crowd wanted.

During Debris, the stage fell almost silent as Delahoussaye closed the song with a searing violin solo, earning one of the loudest responses of the night. Emotion sat at the core of the performance. Furstenfeld spoke movingly about his late father and the enduring love between his parents, themes that found their musical expression in songs like “1222 Bay Oak Street”.

Throughout the set, I watched faces in the crowd. People crying during “Fear”, “ Calling You” and “ The Chills”. People standing taller during “Moving On”. These songs have travelled far beyond America. They have found their way into bedrooms, hospitals, recovery rooms and lonely nights across the globe, including in South Africa. That truth was impossible to ignore.

After the final notes faded, most bands would disappear. Blue October did the opposite. They stayed for nearly an hour, signing albums, taking photos, and listening to stories. At one point, they even made phone calls to family members of fans who were celebrating birthdays. There was no sense of obligation, only presence.

After the show, I spent several minutes talking with their manager, Paul Nugent. It was not a rushed or guarded exchange. We spoke about the longevity of the band, their relentless appetite to keep writing meaningful music and the continued impact of their documentary “Get Back Up”. What stood out was not industry talk or strategy, but pride. Pride in survival. Pride in growth. Pride in a band that refused to become a cautionary tale.

I purchased Justin’s book “I Laugh at Myself”, a deeply personal companion to the music. It traces the stories behind every song from Sway through to Spinning the Truth Around Part II, offering a rare behind the scenes look at the lyrics, the recording process and the band’s turbulent history. Reading it felt like holding a map of survival.

By the end of the night, my hesitation about meeting heroes had dissolved completely. Every member of the band and their management were humble, knowledgeable and disarmingly kind. There was no disconnect between the message on stage and the people delivering it.

As someone from South Africa, I could not stop thinking about what this band could mean back home. Not just the music, but the message. That you do not have to be a slave to addiction. That mental health struggles do not define your worth. That from the depths of despair, something beautiful can emerge. Blue October could uplift people in ways that go far beyond a setlist.

I left Mission Ballroom emotionally exhausted and quietly grateful. Grateful, they survived. Grateful they keep telling the truth. Grateful that a band from across the world could make so many of us feel seen. The journey was worth every kilometer, every cent and every fear.