By Maddox Conrady
The nineties gave birth to a whole lot of things, from aggressive and angsty nu metal to big beat electronic music sweeping through the UK. As time has passed, we have seen certain influences, sounds, and aesthetics reemerge again and again throughout both popular and underground music. Some bands are remembered fondly, some aren’t, and what was once seen as a gimmicky trend designed to cash in on overly emotional millennials may eventually reinvent itself for a new audience. However, through the ever-shifting tide of nostalgic reassessment, there remains one constant. That constant is Built to Spill, fronted by singer-songwriter and mad genius Doug Martsch.
Built to Spill is a band that exists within contradictions. How does a band create so much noise with just three members? Why does their music sound so cohesive despite a long history of rotating members? Why does their music feel deeply relatable and emotional, yet still larger than life and boundless? Why is it so hard to learn one of Doug Martsch’s guitar licks despite it sounding so simple? And why is it that I have been on this earth for twenty years and had never seen them live? These contradictions are what make albums like Perfect From Now On and Ultimate Alternative Wavers some of my favorite indie rock records of all time.
All of these questions flowed through my mind as I spontaneously bought a ticket right before the show on November 14, 2025. As I parked a block away from the Rio Theatre and made my way toward the entrance, I felt myself leaving the year 2025 and slowly waltzing back into 1997. I smelled food from the old diner across the street. I heard Mariah Carey blasting from outside the Santa Cruz Roller Palladium. I saw the old-school neon lights of the Rio Theatre, and then I felt it, the low rumble of a guitar soundcheck vibrating through the street. Walking through the aisles of the old converted movie theater, I was met with a sea of eager faces. Old and young, fathers and sons, teenagers and hippies, metalheads and moms, all waiting with the same kind of excitement.
Then, with no lead-up nor introduction, there they were. Three of the most unassuming musicians you’ll ever see: Doug Martsch on guitar and vocals, Melanie Radford on bass, and Teresa Esguerra on drums. With no warning before they stepped onstage, both I and several friends were caught off guard by just how loud and rowdy the crowd became. Each cheer, whistle, and shout came from someone who had gone on a journey with this band throughout their life, crafting memories of youthful love, devastating heartbreak, and everything in between.
Upon the first note of “So” from their 2015 album Untethered Moon, it became clear that Built to Spill would lean fully into their contradictory nature. This is the song they’re opening with? Do people even know this one? With such a large back catalog and Doug Martsch’s ever-changing setlists, I worried I might not hear the songs that had carried me through different points in my life and helped shape who I am today. However, as the distorted guitar melodies poured in, paired with the mix of stage lights and flower patterns projected across the backdrop, that worry began to fade.
I was reassured that this concert would be something special, because I was no longer just attending a show by a band from the nineties I used to listen to in high school. I was inside their world, and whatever songs they chose to play simply guided me through the reverberation.
Doug’s performance style is wholly unique. At a time when rock is dominated by frontmen who feel more bombastic and over-the-top than the last, it is refreshing to see someone nearly forty years into their career still command the stage with such a somber, emotional, and powerful presence. When Doug sings, his eyes are often closed, his head wobbling frantically from side to side, as if he were the cobra and his guitar the snake-charmer’s flute. This physicality feeds directly into his vocal delivery, strengthening not only his vibrato but his overall presence. Every word he moans out feels crushed under an immense emotional weight.
Throughout the show, several moments pushed both Doug and the audience to their limits, bursting into moments where tears felt inevitable. During one of these quieter stretches, my friend Norah leaned over to me and laughed, pointing out that Doug had only spoken maybe three times all night.
As time slowed, I found myself drifting deeper into a daze of psychedelia and DIY rock. For a band as long-enduring as Built to Spill, I began to wonder if their perception of performance had changed over time. So far, the set leaned heavily on deep cuts from albums I wasn’t fully familiar with. That isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it raised questions. Had touring for so long worn out the novelty of playing the hits? Had the shift from small DIY rooms to sold-out crowds dulled the excitement? Were we even worthy of their best?
Those thoughts were interrupted by the next flurry of songs, beginning with the blazing riffage of “Stab” from the fan-favorite album There’s Nothing Wrong With Love, and flowing into a beautifully executed cover of Heartless Bastards’ “The Mountain”, sung by Melanie Radford. Over the course of the song, she quietly won over the entire room, resulting in applause just as loud as when the band first walked onstage.
Over the course of the hour-and-a-half–ish performance, something began to build, a shared anticipation spreading through the theater. Shouts of “Play something from Perfect From Now On” echoed from the crowd, and those prayers were finally answered with the steady drumbeat of one of the band’s most iconic songs, “I Would Hurt a Fly,” one of my personal favorites. In that moment, we as a crowd realized we were worthy. Nearly every lyric was sung by nearly everyone in the room, with Doug’s nasally yet powerful voice cutting through it all, creating one of the most memorable concert experiences of my life.
And just as quickly as they had arrived onstage, they scattered, leaving behind an awestruck Santa Cruz crowd hungry for more. Chants of “One more song” boomed throughout the Rio. Once again, those prayers were answered as the band returned for an encore, but not just any encore, something entirely different. Those early calls for Perfect From Now On were about to be fulfilled. As soon as Doug began the opening notes of “Randy Described Eternity,” the crowd erupted.
“Randy Described Eternity” is a song that acts as a perfect encapsulation of the nineties, no pun intended. Equal parts existential and hopeful, it serves as an entry point not only into Built to Spill’s sound, but into the broader spirit of nineties indie rock. Playing it as an encore felt like a gesture of mutual respect between the band and their multigenerational audience. As I closed my eyes and sang along to Doug Martsch’s poetry, I realized the song had begun to stretch far beyond its recorded length. That was when the audience understood we were in for one final ride.
The song unfolded into a nearly twenty-minute performance, filled with piercing guitar solos and improvisational drum fills that carried the entire room together. When it finally ended, the Rio erupted into one of the loudest cheers I’ve ever heard. Doug responded with a quiet, almost shy thank you, having barely spoken to the crowd all night, before the band calmly walked offstage, leaving the room buzzing in their wake.
In a town that often feels quiet and slowed down by winter, Built to Spill reminded Santa Cruz why live music still matters. The show wasn’t about nostalgia or reliving the past, but about proving that music can grow, stretch, and still feel deeply personal decades later. Walking out of the Rio Theatre, it was clear that this wasn’t just another concert, but a shared experience that connected generations, memories, and moments in time.