Concert Review: Grandson at Brooklyn Bowl in Nashville, TN

Brooklyn Bowl Nashville was already rumbling on Wednesday, November 12th before the lights dropped. The place was packed shoulder to shoulder, the lanes forgotten and the bar drowned out by the roar of a crowd that showed up ready to blow the roof off the building.

Grandson fans do not wander in. They arrive with purpose. They come ready to scream, sweat and drive the night forward.

Ho99o9 lit the fuse first. They hit the stage with zero warmup and zero hesitation. Pure impact. The wild part is that they had only a week to prepare after stepping in for Bob Vylan, whose travel visas were revoked at the last minute over comments about the Palestinian situation. You would never have known. 

Ho99o9’s set felt like a controlled explosion that shook the walls and set the temperature of the room climbing fast. The crowd braced itself for what was coming next.

When Ho99o9 wrapped, the gears shifted, the room compressed, and the entire venue leaned forward. The lights flipped and a familiar riff tore through the P.A. 

“Killing in the Name” by Rage Against the Machine blasted through the hall and the reaction was instantaneous. People erupted. 

It was the perfect walk-on song for a night that was about to run on adrenaline and conviction. By the time the track finished, Grandson walked onto the stage with the crowd already boiling.

The opening punch of "Autonomous Delivery Robot" followed by “Bury You” sent the floor into motion. Guitars snarled through the mix and the bass hit like a physical shock. Grandson delivered every line with force, not for spectacle but because he meant every word. It felt like the entire room was unloading something heavy it had been carrying for too long.

He did not dodge politics. He never does. Live, that honesty cuts louder than any guitar. He called out the rot in the system, the apathy, the power games.

Trump’s name entered the room and the crowd reacted instantly. No softening. No waiting to see how it landed. The people packed into that venue heard exactly what they came to hear: the truth delivered without a filter.

“Little White Lies” delivered with sharp intent. Hypocrisy, control, and twisted authority hung over every line. The crowd shouted the chorus like an alarm. Bodies pushed and surged in a wave that matched the momentum of the track. The energy kept climbing.

Midway through the set, the lights sank and an audio message from Bob Vylan played over the speakers. They explained how abruptly the visa issue hit and how frustrated they were to miss the tour. No theatrics. No posturing. Just raw honesty. The room fell silent in a heavy way. 

Then the night snapped back into chaos. Grandson’s guitarist and bassist left the stage mid song and walked straight into a circle pit while still playing. The crowd swallowed them. Phones flew up. People screamed. The pit wrapped around them, spinning while they kept the song moving without losing a note. It was wild, rare, and exactly the kind of moment that turns into a concert story people will tell for years.

Grandson fed off that surge. He prowled the stage with purpose and control. Every lyric landed clean. Every movement kept the crowd on edge. His voice carried the strain of someone who refuses to dilute his message, giving Brooklyn Bowl everything he had, and the room pushed it back at full volume.

The night built until the final track. “Blood // Water” hit with absolute force. The reaction was immediate. Hundreds of voices roared the opening lines. When the chorus dropped, the entire building shook from the sound. This was not a singalong. It was a release. The song felt like the room was calling out corruption in real time. Grandson’s performance hit maximum intensity, and the crowd matched him completely.

When the last notes faded, the energy didn't collapse. It hovered in the air, thick and buzzing. People stood breathless and drenched, trying to process the last couple of hours. Then the applause returned, louder than before, the kind of noise that shakes your ribs and leaves your ears ringing long after you walk outside.

Leaving Brooklyn Bowl didn't feel like leaving a concert. Fans spilled into the hallways yelling about the pit, the Bob Vylan message, the walk-on song, the political fire, the moment the band jumped into the crowd. Everyone looked charged, like they had been part of something that hit deeper than entertainment.

This was one of the most electric shows Nashville will see for a long time. It proved that live music can still rattle the ground when the right artist decides not to hold anything back.

If you were there, your voice is quite possibly still wrecked today. If you missed it, consider this your warning. Grandson is not touring to play it safe. He is out here to wake people up.