No Power, No Problem: Slow Joy Turns an Outage Into an Unforgettable Night
Thursday night was 95 degrees and the air was thick in Northern New Jersey. Crossroads in Garwood was filling up quickly in anticipation of Slow Joy. Slow Joy is the solo project of Dallas native Esteban Flores. His music blends grunge and emo with melodic lyrics and powerful guitars, so I was expecting some crowd surfing and a mosh pit or two. What we got instead was something so unexpected and beautiful that it served as a reminder of what music is all about—and gave us all a little hope for its future.
Ten minutes into Brooklyn-based Glom’s set, the electricity went out at the venue…and actually, the whole block. Some of the audience left, but others waited. After 45 minutes with no sign of the power being restored, the crew at Crossroads decided to move everything to the patio outside. They had a generator, but it was only powerful enough to run one microphone and one light. Luckily, one of the bands had an acoustic guitar with them, so we were all treated to an intimate acoustic set from each of the bands on the lineup.
Glom took the opportunity to play some covers, starting with “Semi-Charmed Life” by Third Eye Blind. They took requests, and when they played “Wonderwall” by Oasis, the entire crowd sang along.
New Jersey band Bike Routes was able to play their own music with just lead singer David Osterhout on guitar, accompanied by the drummer. They had a huge following in the audience, and many of their fans gathered right at the front to scream the lyrics along with Osterhout. A couple of times, he stopped to express how much he was enjoying the moment.
“I’m sorry the power went out, but this is awesome! This is how we used to do it,” he said.
At which point, someone in the audience shouted, “Fuck the power!”
Then, as the heat lightning flashed in the background and the rain started coming down, Slow Joy came onstage and said, “My name is Slow Joy, and this was planned all along.”
Then he started playing. There was no sound check and no pause between bands. He simply came out and started playing, and the whole thing felt like a beautiful jam session that we were all invited to.
He opened with “Wound” from the 2025 album, A Joy So Slow At Times I Don’t Think It’s Coming. The song lent itself beautifully to an acoustic arrangement. Stripping away the harder guitar sounds left us with the hauntingly sad lyrics and beautiful emo melody.
The whole night was raw, beautiful, and completely unrehearsed. They figured it out as they went along—working out which songs would translate to acoustic and whether they would need to change keys.
Even “Gruesome,” one of Slow Joy’s more fast-paced songs, sounded incredible slowed down and stripped back. There was more depth and feeling in each song this way. Many of Slow Joy’s songs focus on grief, and the lyrics can be quite heavy. I think this stripped-down version allowed us to really hear the meaning behind them. If anyone who makes decisions out there is reading this…could we maybe think about an acoustic album?
Just before the last song, “Heavy Red” from the 2022 album Soft Slam, Flores said, “This last one is kind of a deep cut, but you guys are a deep cut crew out in the rain.”
The song was originally recorded acoustically, so it was fitting that it was the last song of the night. It was one of the most emotional performances I’ve seen. Just as the song ended, I could see Flores wipe a tear from his eye, and then, almost as if on cue, the power came back on.
I think what this evening showed was the resilience of music. In today’s world, there are so many obstacles: streaming services, AI-generated music, digital oversaturation, skyrocketing touring costs, and, cough cough…large corporations buying out independent companies, as happened this week with several music media outlets.
But people have been making music since the dawn of time, and they will continue to do so. Music doesn’t need perfect conditions. It doesn’t need a stage, a light show, or even electricity. Sometimes all it needs is a guitar, a microphone, a few people willing to wait, and a crowd willing to sing along.
And those of us who can’t make the music ourselves will continue to appreciate it, support it, and document it. On a night when the power literally went out, the music never really stopped, and maybe that’s the most important thing of all.