I like to test my luck—and this time, it paid off. I won two tickets to see OK Go live, something I genuinely never thought would happen in this lifetime.
My fourteen-year-old self would’ve been absolutely ecstatic. Back when I lived in Makati, I bought their self-titled album OK Go on a whim from Tower Records—no previews, just pure instinct. They quickly became one of my favorite bands.
I’m not going to lie—I still know every word to that first album. My interest drifted a bit when Oh No came out. The treadmill choreography, while clever, didn’t quite resonate with me at the time. I was slowly moving into electronic dance music and backpack rap. But something about winning those tickets pulled me back in, twenty years later, dry and sentimental.
And honestly? I was floored.
OK Go are phenomenal performers. They’re warm, engaged, and remarkably generous with their energy. The show was at the Regency Ballroom—a space I’ve always loved for its faint remnants of grandeur, now reimagined for nights just like this.
When we arrived at will call, we were upgraded to VIP, which meant drinks in the lounge before the show and the kind of small, unexpected indulgences that make a night feel a little more charmed.
The openers were The Stone Foxes, a San Francisco-based band with that gritty, Southern blues-rock sound. Think White Stripes or early Black Keys, but with the added flair of fiddle and harmonica.
They were tight. Gritty in the best way. It felt like the kind of music you’d hear in a bar.
While the stage was being set, the venue played all the indie rock hits of the early 2000s. It was like someone had handed over the aux to my younger self.
Then OK Go came on—with a bang. Literally. Confetti, lights, the works. They performed hits from every album. And between songs, they interacted with the audience in ways that felt sincere, not scripted.
There were a few Q&A segments— one young gearhead asked a question about their stage setup and technical rigging, and it was clear the band appreciated it. As a gearhead myself, I loved that exchange.
They even explained that their now-iconic use of paint and splatter imagery was a way to represent time—how art and chaos could document motion, memory, and presence.
The show ended early (in a good way). We had drinks, we had fun, and we got home at a responsible hour, hearts full. I’d absolutely do it all over again.
Huge thanks to Econojam— my favorite, Oakland-based local supplier of vinyl—for the tickets. That night reminded me how rare it is to return to something you loved when you were young and find it still shines, maybe even brighter.
You made my year.
