Adam Green

Loco Club on February 5 didn’t just host a concert — it hosted a collective indie confession. A packed, shoulder-to-shoulder room, the kind where the walls sweat along with the crowd, gathered to witness Adam Green return to Valencia and remind everyone why he remains one of alternative music’s most unpredictable cult heroes. The show was officially billed as Adam Green + Turner Cody & The Soldiers of Love, but by the time the doors closed and the lights dimmed, it felt more like a secret meeting of believers. Tickets had vanished fast, and the atmosphere said everything: full house, no tourists, no casuals — just people who knew exactly why they were there.

Before Green even touched the stage, Turner Cody did the important work — warming the room without burning it down. Backed by The Soldiers of Love, Cody delivered a set that felt intimate, literary and quietly cinematic. Anti-folk roots, folk-rock storytelling, and songs that sounded like they’d lived a life before landing in Valencia. There was no filler energy here. No one talking over the music. The crowd leaned in, listened, nodded, smiled. The vibe was already set: this was going to be a good night.

When Adam Green finally walked onstage, the reaction was instant — cheers, laughter, that unmistakable hum of affection reserved for artists who feel more like old friends than performers. Green didn’t arrive as a rock star; he arrived as himself, armed with a guitar, a crooked grin, and that strange ability to balance irony, vulnerability and absurd humor without ever losing the room. The set moved fluidly between material from his latest EP Falling Around and older fan favorites, each song delivered with the loose confidence of someone who has nothing left to prove. His voice wavered just enough to feel human. His banter wandered, looped back, went sideways — and somehow landed exactly where it needed to. At times it felt like a concert. At others, like a surreal stand-up routine set to music. That’s the Adam Green experience: half performance, half happening, always on the edge of derailment but never actually falling apart.

What made the night truly special wasn’t just Green’s presence — it was the crowd. No phones blocking the view. No background noise. Just a room full of people singing, laughing, locking eyes with the stage. The energy stayed warm, respectful, and slightly unhinged in the best possible way. This wasn’t nostalgia tourism. This was a shared moment, a reminder that small rooms and cult artists still matter — maybe more than ever.

Adam Green didn’t just play Valencia. He inhabited it for an hour and a half, bending the room to his strange, tender logic. With Turner Cody setting the tone and a sold-out Loco Club fully on board, the night landed somewhere between heartfelt indie show and beautifully controlled chaos. No gimmicks. No overproduction. Just songs, stories, and good vibes radiating off every wall. Some gigs entertain you.Others remind you why you fell in love with live music in the first place. This one did the latter.

Word and Photos: Rhyan Paul