Women cloaked in frilly boho blouses hurried into the transformed Film Row restaurant while men sporting mustaches trailed behind them as the sprinkling rain picked up its pace. The reported tornado watch did not deter attendees from coming out to watch indie rock band The Brook & The Bluff perform at The Jones Assembly.
Wet clothes could not dampen the spirits of the crowd as they shrugged off raindrops and headed toward the stage with lightly colored cocktails and beers in hand. Along with the physical change, the essence of the once contemporary upscale establishment shifted into something far more relaxed and familiar. The change in dress and atmosphere stood in contrast to the usual dining experience. The versatility of the interior remained on display through the preserved industrial Henry Ford era hardware, paired with a patio lined with greenery that softened the space into something more intimate and lived in.
After opener Ethan Tasch finished his set, the hum of the eager crowd grew louder. Heeled boots edged closer to the stage, packing the room tighter with each passing minute. When the band eased onto the blue lit stage and took their places, the anticipation had already reached a steady pulse.
The show opened with the titular track from their newest album Werewolf.
The record acts as a reset for the band, returning to a more grounded rock and roll sound while sharpening their identity as songwriters. It has been just over two years since First Place, which leaned into a softer, more bluesy direction. This time, the process was more deliberate. The band met each morning to write and rehearse, echoing their early days at Auburn University, allowing space for both discipline and growth.
“The whole goal of the album was to make a record that felt like it had the same energy as our live set,” said frontman Joseph Settine.
That intention carried clearly into the performance. The band abandoned their previous recording approach of layering instruments separately and instead tracked songs live as a full unit. That decision translated into a tighter, more immediate sound on stage, one that felt less constructed and more instinctual. Each transition, each cue, and each swell in volume felt shared rather than assembled.
The band moved into lead single “Super Bowl Sunday,” which drew an immediate reaction from the crowd at the first guitar riff as thunder rolled faintly outside. The track blends indie rock structure with a more amplified, classic rock edge. Its upbeat tempo and catchy chorus stand in contrast to the introspective weight of its lyrics.
In the song, Settine reflects on his own avoidance within past relationships. “Dudes in general will do anything but face the thing that is right in front of them,” he said. “The general idea is instead of facing a serious problem you need to talk about, the game’s on and I’m going to hang with my boys instead.”
Moments like this gave the set a sense of honesty that balanced its energy. That same duality carried into “Can’t Figure It Out,” which features what Settine calls the best chorus he has written. The song came together quickly, in under thirty minutes, and immediately carried a sense of familiarity. Its universal tone made it feel less like a new addition and more like something that had always existed within their catalog.
Midway through the set, “Baby Blue” provided a softer turn. The tempo slowed and the room followed. Tight harmonies floated around Settine’s bright vocals. The crowd swayed in unison, appreciating a shift in styles.
Even as the set shifted between older material and newer tracks, the transitions remained fluid. The band guided the room through changes in tone and style without breaking the overall momentum. Couples and groups of friends sang along with arms draped over each other, fully immersed. Stage lights moved from purple to blue in rhythm with the music, while flashes of lightning outside the windows blurred the line between performance and environment.
There was a familiarity in the sound that felt deeply rooted. Certain moments carried echoes of classic rock influences, the kind passed down through car speakers as you rode in your parents car. Songs like “Gone for the Weekend” held a warm sense of nostalgia, driven by textured guitar riffs and steady bass lines. The guitar solos stretched with intensity that felt nearly hypnotic.
Settine describes performing as an emotional and energetic exchange that is difficult to fully process, and that sentiment felt tangible in the room.
As the show moved toward its close, that connection only intensified. What unfolded in the room felt like a clear example of collective effervescence, a shared energy that moved through the crowd and settled into something almost physical. The storm outside continued, but inside, the energy held steady.
When the final notes faded, the crowd lingered for a moment before slowly filtering back out into the rain. The performance felt participatory, something shaped equally by the band and the audience. That is where Werewolf finds its strength. Not just as a collection of songs, but as a reflection of what those songs become when they are shared in a room full of people willing to meet them at the same level.
This article appears in 100 Years of Route 66.