If I were to go to the doctor to get treated for being the flawed human I am, the diagnosis would be obvious. The doctor would say I’m the type who leaves a party too late, sends texts I shouldn’t, and is still figuring out singledom in my early thirties while everyone around me is buying houses and having kids. The prescription would be one floor seat to The Beaches’ first sold-out arena show for their No Hard Feelings tour (and maybe a mild SSRI).
Does that mean you need to meet the same qualifiers to enjoy the concert? No. But there’s something disarmingly honest about the way The Beaches lean into the messiness of the human condition that resonates with just about anyone. Their lyrics and energy created a collective sigh through the crowd, a space where people could dance their hearts out, blame their exes, and feel understood. Through songs about heartbreak, friendships that hold you up when you’re at your lowest, and sometimes just being a fuck-up and owning it, the band built a connection that felt real.
On October 24, a sea of concertgoers piled into the Save-On-Foods Memorial Centre for an unforgettable night. Kicking things off was Valley, an alternative pop band from Toronto made up of lead vocalist Rob Laska, bassist Alex Dimauro, and drummer Karah James. The band’s story began through a lucky mix-up when two different groups were booked into the same studio session. That unexpected overlap led to the formation of Valley, and they’ve been making music together ever since.
Before the show, I hadn’t heard of Valley, but it didn’t take long for them to win me over. Their dreamy vocals and tight harmonies filled the arena, and the crowd swayed right along. The upbeat rhythm carried their set, but beneath it were lyrics tinged with quiet melancholy, creating a contrast that felt both dancey and a little tender—which is my kind of Friday night. It was the kind of sound that lingers, and it made them the perfect choice to open for The Beaches. If they ever come through town again, I won’t hesitate to show up and cheer on another great Canadian band.
Following Valley, The Beaches took the stage, and it was immediately clear this was a historic moment. Their faces were lit up with awe and unfiltered joy as they looked out at the screaming crowd. The band, made up of Jordan Miller on lead vocals and bass, Kylie Miller on guitar and backing vocals, Leandra Earl on keyboards, guitar and backing vocals, and Eliza Enman-McDaniel on drums, stood on stage for their first time headlining a sold-out arena, fully taking in what they had built over years of hard work.
For the rest of the set, The Beaches proved exactly why they’ve earned their place as one of Canada’s top rock bands. Jordan’s powerful, distinct vocals are striking on their albums, but hearing them live was something else entirely. It’s rare to go to a show where the sound matches the studio version, let alone surpasses it, but her voice did just that. The raw edge and touch of grunge that came through in person lifted the entire performance to another level.
It’s also impossible to miss how close the bandmates are. You can see it not only in their on-stage chemistry but in the way they take turns speaking to the crowd, sharing pieces of their personal lives and what different songs mean to them. It’s clear this is a true group effort, where each voice and experience is woven into the music. That’s a big part of why The Beaches connect with so many different people. One of the most powerful moments of the night came when Jordan and Leandra slowed everything down, with Leandra on piano in a single spotlight for their song Lesbian of the Year. The song is about Leandra’s experience coming out later in life and all the complicated feelings that come with it. Hearing it in that quiet, stripped-down moment was gutting in the best way, and yeah, I cried, and I’ll do it again.
My only qualm of the night came before Did I Say Too Much, when the band brought someone on stage to share a story about a time they said too much. It’s a segment they do at every show, and my hand shot up, ready to embarrass my family name, but they picked a kid who didn’t reveal anything other than an excited “hi” to the audience. It was cute, sure, but I was hoping for a little more dirt. As for my story, that’s between me and my therapist.
All night, I kept thinking about an interview where Jordan talked about pulling from real life when writing lyrics. Songs like Blame Brett and Fine, Let’s Get Married call out actual people and real moments. She once said that “to make good art, it has to cost something,” and by the end of the show, it was clear every ounce of pain was worth it.
