Sat, Oct 3
Brian Fallon & The Painkillers, Tim Barry — Evening Show
The afternoon crowd goes home and a different one files in, and by nine the room smells like every good club you have ever stood in.
Same artist, same night, different setlist, entirely different animal. The evening show at a two-hundred-cap room is where Fallon plays the loud ones — the Gaslight songs a matinee audience is too sober for and this one absolutely is not. There will be a moment, probably in the encore, where he stops singing and lets two hundred people carry a chorus he wrote about being twenty and broke in New Jersey, and everyone in the room will be somewhere else for about forty seconds.
Tim Barry opens this one too. Two sets from him in a day is a gift; he tells long stories between songs about riding freight trains and every one of them is true.
If you did the matinee, come back — the overlap is smaller than you would guess. If you did not, this is the one people will still be talking about at Christmas.
Same address, same Saturday, eight o'clock — and a different band by then.
The afternoon crowd goes home and a different one files in, and by nine the room smells like every good club you have ever stood in.
Same artist, same night, different setlist, entirely different animal. The evening show at a two-hundred-cap room is where Fallon plays the loud ones — the Gaslight songs a matinee audience is too sober for and this one absolutely is not. There will be a moment, probably in the encore, where he stops singing and lets two hundred people carry a chorus he wrote about being twenty and broke in New Jersey, and everyone in the room will be somewhere else for about forty seconds.
Tim Barry opens this one too. Two sets from him in a day is a gift; he tells long stories between songs about riding freight trains and every one of them is true.
If you did the matinee, come back — the overlap is smaller than you would guess. If you did not, this is the one people will still be talking about at Christmas.
Same address, same Saturday, eight o'clock — and a different band by then.
Same artist, same night, different setlist, entirely different animal. The evening show at a two-hundred-cap room is where Fallon plays the loud ones — the Gaslight songs a matinee audience is too sober for and this one absolutely is not. There will be a moment, probably in the encore, where he stops singing and lets two hundred people carry a chorus he wrote about being twenty and broke in New Jersey, and everyone in the room will be somewhere else for about forty seconds.
Tim Barry opens this one too. Two sets from him in a day is a gift; he tells long stories between songs about riding freight trains and every one of them is true.
If you did the matinee, come back — the overlap is smaller than you would guess. If you did not, this is the one people will still be talking about at Christmas.
Same address, same Saturday, eight o'clock — and a different band by then.
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Brian Fallon & The Painkillers, Tim Barry — Evening Show
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Saturday, October 3, 2026
8:00 PM PDT – 11:00 PM PDT
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The afternoon crowd goes home and a different one files in, and by nine the room smells like every good club you have ever stood in.
Same artist, same night, different setlist, entirely different animal. The evening show at a two-hundred-cap room is where Fallon plays the loud ones — the Gaslight songs a matinee audience is too sober for and this one absolutely is not. There will be a moment, probably in the encore, where he stops singing and lets two hundred people carry a chorus he wrote about being twenty and broke in New Jersey, and everyone in the room will be somewhere else for about forty seconds.
Tim Barry opens this one too. Two sets from him in a day is a gift; he tells long stories between songs about riding freight trains and every one of them is true.
If you did the matinee, come back — the overlap is smaller than you would guess. If you did not, this is the one people will still be talking about at Christmas.
Same address, same Saturday, eight o'clock — and a different band by then.
Same artist, same night, different setlist, entirely different animal. The evening show at a two-hundred-cap room is where Fallon plays the loud ones — the Gaslight songs a matinee audience is too sober for and this one absolutely is not. There will be a moment, probably in the encore, where he stops singing and lets two hundred people carry a chorus he wrote about being twenty and broke in New Jersey, and everyone in the room will be somewhere else for about forty seconds.
Tim Barry opens this one too. Two sets from him in a day is a gift; he tells long stories between songs about riding freight trains and every one of them is true.
If you did the matinee, come back — the overlap is smaller than you would guess. If you did not, this is the one people will still be talking about at Christmas.
Same address, same Saturday, eight o'clock — and a different band by then.
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