In an era where authenticity often feels like a marketing buzzword, Thee Sacred Souls arrive like a well-worn vinyl record discovered in your grandparents’ attic—familiar yet somehow revolutionary. Last Saturday at Southside Ballroom, the San Diego trio proved that sometimes the best way forward is to look backward, specifically to the golden age of soul music that blessed us with the likes of the Delfonics and Smokey Robinson.
For the uncultured, Thee Sacred Souls emerged from San Diego’s burgeoning retro-soul scene, signing with the prestigious Daptone Records family—a label that knows a thing or two about bottling lightning, having previously brought us Sharon Jones and Charles Bradley. But while those artists channeled the raw energy of James Brown and Otis Redding, Thee Sacred Souls ride sweet soul and lowrider oldies. They even dress and situate their lights and scenery to match, with three background singers in Western fits shaking their tambourines.
Lead singer Josh Lane’s falsetto floated through the venue like smoke in a jazz club, particularly during “Will I See You Again”—a song that, full disclosure, served as the soundtrack to one of my more cinematically tragic heartbreaks. There’s something almost cruel about how a song can simultaneously heal and hurt, like a musical version of exposure therapy. Yet here I was, swaying along with hundreds of others, each presumably carrying their own emotional baggage checked at the door. He also really impressed me with his audience interaction, moving around the ballroom throughout the show, trying to engage with all the sections.
The band’s rhythm section, consisting of drummer Alex Garcia and bassist Sal Samano, created a pocket so deep you could lose your keys in it. Their control of dynamics transformed the ballroom into an intimate space where every note felt like a personal confession. Between songs, Lane’s banter revealed the band’s deep reverence for their musical ancestors while maintaining a playful self-awareness about their role as contemporary carriers of the torch. “We’re just trying to make music that makes people fall in love,” he quipped, “or at least help them cope with falling out of it.” That felt very apt—TSS is one of the only bands for me where the lyrics superimpose the beat masterfully. I really long and wish and am moved with the words like I am moved with the instruments. The audience, a diverse mix of young soul enthusiasts and veterans who likely owned the original records that inspired the band, responded with laughter.
The evening’s highlight came for me during “Weak for Your Love,” where the band demonstrated that sometimes the most powerful moments in music come from restraint rather than excess. The song built slowly, like a Polaroid developing in real time, until the full picture emerged in a crescendo.Â
As the night drew to a close, it became clear that Thee Sacred Souls aren’t merely revivalists; they’re alchemists transforming the lead of heartbreak into golden moments of collective healing. Thee Sacred Souls had managed to create a rare modern experience: an evening that felt both timeless and timely, where the pain of love lost somehow transformed into the joy of music found. I often say with current music, they don’t make ’em like this anymore. Except, thankfully, they do.
