The Driver Era
Article by Briana Sista
Before we even saw The Driver Era, we felt them— bass pulsing, crashing symbols, bodies rushing forward, and a curtain catching light just enough to show a silhouette. There is a magical feeling that comes with being in a crowd that knows every word, screaming them back to the artist. With every second that passed, the anticipation grew from the crowd. There was the usual wave of bodies flooding towards the barricade. Some people screamed at the top of their lungs, while others sat quietly in disbelief. And then, in one clean snap, the curtain fell.
As concert-goers, there is an unspoken relief that happens when a show finally begins. This felt like a deep breath. They don’t overdo the crowd work, they don't force energy. They just…play. And the crowd gives it right back without needing to be told. Opening with ‘Touch’, and then leaning into other hits like ‘Better’ and ‘The Weekend’— the crowd was shouting the words back like they had been stuck in their chest all day. As a ‘zillennial,’ I lived through all phases of Ross Lynch. But, this one might just be my favorite. Lining the barricades were young teens and women well into adulthood, all united by the same unshakeable love for the music. Dismissed by critics but essential to the industry, fangirls create the momentum that turns bands into legacies. We have seen this for ages. Being a fangirl means giving yourself permission to care deeply. About a song. A band. A feeling. And not apologizing for it. That's what the crowd was filled with— people who find meaning in every lyric, and who remind you why music matters in the first place.
Less than halfway through the set, Ross announced they would be playing an unreleased song, ‘I’ll Be There.’ The crowd went quiet. Phones went up. It was simple, raw, and steady. There was a subtle shift in the crowd— no longer shouting, but listening, really listening. We all stood, watching two brothers share the art they created together with the world. These are my favorite moments at shows. Intimate. Ross and Rocky’s connection onstage was effortless. No massive visuals. No crazy theatrics. No need for gimmicks. Just a band completely in sync, happy to be there, and trusting the songs to carry the weight. The Driver Era leaned into what really matters— tight musicianship, natural energy, and a connection that made a wide stage feel close. I looked around the crowd, really observing the emotions on the fans' faces. During one song, I saw every emotion in the book. Tears in one corner, joy in another, full-out dancing just feet away. Everyone felt something, and it was never the same thing twice.
You could tell the fans didn’t want the show to end. I mean, who would? The beautiful thing about shows like this is you can exist outside yourself for a while— almost suspended in this strange, beautiful in-between where nothing matters. And then it ends. The lights come up, the amps cut out, and just like that, you’re back in the real world. There’s always a come down. A softness in your step as you leave, kind of like your body is still catching up to where your mind has been.
SummerStage in Central Park in New York City, NY on June 9, 2025
Photos by Briana Sista
