I’m so glad that a concert got cancelled. Honestly, it was a concert that could not be cancelled because it never truly existed. On May 9, I took my two oldest kids to Rumba Café to see The Ophelias. It never happened, but if it did I might have missed my favorite show of the year, courtesy of Ezra Furman.

When I first saw The Ophelias were heading to Central Ohio, I headed to Used Kids Records to buy tickets. If you did not know, you can buy tickets for most shows at Rumba Café, Ace of Cups, Skullys and the Atheneum if you bring cash.

The benefit is no fees, but please do not make me calculate how much I have spent driving to Used Kids Records and vinyl I’ve purchased while there to get tickets to save a few dollars on evil fees. I have saved money, I’m sure. Let me dream.

Well, as the late Friday night show neared its advertised door opening of 9:00 p.m. ET, there were three people in line and all of them were in my gene pool. I peeked inside and minus the soft glow of lights behind the bar, it was as dark and empty as the Summit Ave night sky.

To the band’s credit, they responded to my Instagram DM relatively quickly to let me know they did not have a show that night. Bravo Artist and Rumba Café, the promoter and venue listed for the show, were not as responsive.

Regardless of communication skills, I set my eyes on Furman’s July 14 show at Ace of Cups, with The Ophelias opening.

Before that fateful May night, I never heard of Furman despite their prolific prowess of 13 albums released in 14 years. I got lost in the music, full of cutting lyrics and musical accompaniment that sometimes sounded like punk, other times singer/songwriter and then even 1960s pop.

Without my kids in tow, because of an 18 and older age requirement, I made the dangerous decision to set moderately high expectations. Turns out I did not set them high enough.

The night began with The Ophelias, a five-piece alternative band from two hours south in Cincinnati. Fresh off their latest LP Spring Grove, named after the country’s fourth largest cemetery that calls Cincinnati home and produced by indie star Julien Baker, The Ophelias played 10 songs that left me wanting to see them headline a show so I could selfishly hear more.

Singing and playing guitar is Spencer Peppet. After starting the night with “Open Sky,” the opening track off their April 4, 2025 release, Peppet mostly put the guitar away, which she heralded as a way to let herself go free. That left their traveling guitar player to fill in.

Photo by Rachael Barbash

Peppet brought the band’s often brooding sound to new life with her body motions, reaching out and grabbing the invisible or delivering a powerful line while simultaneously lifting up the strap on her dress that fell over through her swaying through a beat.

Then Peppet found herself on the floor, either on her back or on her knees and bending her upper body to pretzel herself backwards on stage.

Between tracks, Peppet also fulfilled the lead singer role of working the crowd so the band could tune. When the guitar went back on, bassist Jo Shaffer talked to the crowd about the Reagan Revolution. It was a history lesson, instead of the usual talk of the JFK assassination, but Shaffer decided to move on since she reminded everyone that it was a CIA job.

It is hard to find a band who can mix 1980s American politics to Benson Boone and the archaic nature of celebrity and fame but for The Ophelias it worked. Peppet also stressed she would do a backflip like Boone if she could.

The only issue with the opening set is nothing at all with the openers. Skip a couple paragraphs if you want to avoid a rant about concert etiquette. In a nearly sold-out room, six Furman fans decided that it was not worth their time to stand up for The Ophelias set. These six fans sat directly in front of the stage.

Now, I am on the wrong side of 30 and nearing the right side of 40. My legs get tired. I am also not trying to come across as ableist as these same people stood for the entirety of Furman’s 21-song set, stood in line before the show and likely also stood in line at the merch table. It’s also not out of jealousy, because standing at a concert, when able, is about respect. A patron next to me had a cane that doubled as a stool and they used it to lean and sit between sets. That is not only perfectly within etiquette but also ingenious and that is where I was jealous.

Ace of Cups is not a theater. There are no assigned seats. There are no seats period. If you want to sit on the floor, do it before the show and between sets.

On top of crowd work, The Ophelias also fulfilled their obligation to tell the crowd to move up early in the show, to which I replied “we literally can’t” because of the pit squatters. They did scooch up, slightly. Bless their hearts.

Anyway, once Furman came on stage none of that mattered. She walked gently onto the corner stage and presented themselves as quiet and reserved. Furman’s nature was as if she were a stranger stumbling through an unknown place.

Furman played a black telecaster with duct tape holding on its strap. Their reserved aura slowly came to life in a quieter version of “Train Comes Through,” from their 2022 LP All of Us Flames. After the song she gave a quiet thank you. Then the night hit a launching point. As if the opening track was a countdown of what was to come over the next hour and a half. I’m not exactly sure of the time because I got lost in it.

Up next was “No Place” from the 2018 Transangelic Exodus release. Furman’s guitar pick slammed against the strings and their black hair flung in front of their eyes as they belted out lyrics that did not look like they were possible moments prior.

“I found out on a Monday,
The city I love doesn’t love me,
In fact, fuck that,
It would rather see me dead.”

On that song and multiple others throughout the night, Furman did not look like they were forcing out the high energy moments but it was releasing from inside of themselves. As she played, her hands shook along with their voice. On recordings, you can hear the emotion in which she sings, but seeing it live you experience it. You feel it.

Photo by Rachael Barbash

A few times as I stood and watched, I felt like I was not doing enough. Being an audience member and banging my head along with the songs, felt disrespectful in comparison to all Furman put into their songs.

Furman never did the crowd work piece about “here is a song from my new album” or “go buy merch.” That is not said with any disdain for those that do, because it’s a cut throat industry and bands need to take care of themselves because the venues and promoters are not going to do it. However, Furman’s work spoke for itself. When I left, a person in the merch line bought one of every single vinyl Furman’s camp brought on tour.

Before the moments of capitalism at the merch table, Furman went through 21 songs from eight albums and the way the set was compiled was part of the art. Songs about driving broke up the themes of the night. From the intensity of “No Place” to the swinging emotion of “Driving Down to L.A,” Furman opened up between songs.

That included paying homage to Columbus poet Maggie Smith and her poem “Bride.” Furman read the poem years back and told the crowd she read it 1,000 times after writing it in their notebook. She added another time on Monday when she pulled out that page and read it aloud for the crowd to hear.

In the crowd was Smith herself, who shared on social media that she knew it was coming but still cried as Furman seemingly read the poem directly to its author.

The poem is the inspiration behind Furman’s “Veil Song” off the 2025 LP Goodbye Small Head.

“I’m ready to get married like I’m ready to die,
It’s comforting to say it, but it’s not true.
Tomorrow is in focus but the present is blurred,
The bus has crashed, my body’s pinned down under a word.
My tongue is tied forever, for always, tied to you.”

After another driving-themed track “Forever in Sunset,” which followed “A World of Love and Care” where Furman aggressively strummed the top guitar on repeat on a track about the hatred of the world and leaving people like themselves behind, “Body Was Made” fired up both Furman and the crowd.

A track about everyone’s ability to choose their own identity, Furman played to a crowd with strong representation from the trans community, the same community in which Furman belongs. Added to the live edition were guitar breaks for Furman who began the song alone with the microphone but turned the guitar into a weapon for the anger and pain I imagine is felt from people in the marginalized group.

Furman went back to the song, which came from one of the many “Sex Education” soundtracks she wrote and recorded for Netflix, on the line “Body was made so just fucking relax,” which was a great use of the four-letter expletive. The recorded version is complete with saxophone and a funky beat. Live it commanded your attention.

Then, as the song lulled, Furman yelled “Sorry? What?” and blew the crowd away with a second guitar solo, nearly falling over as the instrument seemingly led Furman aacross the small Ace of Cups stage.

She ended it with a quip that she really would love to learn to play the instrument one day.

The rest of the night was mesmerizing. Furman played most of the show from behind their hair. As the music emanated from Furman, you could see the joy open up for Furman between songs. A quiet, reserved start to the night ended with thanks and how much she needs music. How much is means to them.

Instead of an encore, where Furman talked through the logistics of having to walk back through the crowd and upstairs before a return to the stage, the band finished the set with flashing lights for the only two songs of the night. Furman and their band ended with songs that felt like an attempt at leaving on a high note. Complete with the final track “Tell Em All to Go To Hell.”

After the show, a bouquet of flowers sat on the stage. A fan tried to hand them to Furman earlier in the set but gave up because Furman and the music were blind to the folks in the audience. When the set officially ended, Furman returned to the subdued soul who lightly stepped on stage. She pointed to the flowers, then to themselves as if to ask if they were being given to them. Then she again, shoulders slightly slumped, lightly stepped off stage.

This tour is the first for Furman in the United States in over two years. I do not know if you are someone who prays or sends out thoughts, but do whatever you can to get Furman to come back again much sooner than that.