Slow Joy Thrashes Through Grief at Lost Lake Lounge

Photos: Gerardo Federico

It’s been a minute since I’ve been in Lost Lake Lounge, but there are few better ways to slip down into the dive gig scene than a night with Slow Joy at one of Denver’s best. On Saturday night, Esteban Flores—Slow Jay’s frontman and mastermind—delivered a cathartic, soul-rattling performance that turned the cozy dive into a furnace of noise, emotion, and yes, abject joy.

The crowd wasn’t massive, but it didn’t need to be. What it lacked in numbers, more than made up for in heart—matching the energy pouring from the stage, beat for beat. From the first power chord, it was clear that Slow Joy came to play hard. Blending elements of post-hardcore, shoegaze, and alternative rock, Flores and his band didn’t just perform—they unloaded.

Flores, a Dallas-based, Mexican-American singer and guitarist, formed Slow Joy as a solo project born from a place of healing. After a therapist encouraged him to turn to music as a way to process his grief, Flores began channeling those heavy emotions into thunderous riffs and soul-searching lyrics. The result is a sound that feels simultaneously aggressive and vulnerable—like therapy in distortion pedals and feedback.

Tracks from Slow Joy’s 2024 EP Mi Amigo hit especially hard, suggesting a nod to his heritage and identity.

And it works. Watching him onstage—thrashing and swaying, eyes closed, guitar howling—you get the sense that this isn’t just performance. It’s release; transformation.

Tracks from his 2024 EP Mi Amigo hit especially hard, suggesting a nod to his heritage and identity. That cultural thread is subtle but significant—especially for those who rarely see themselves reflected in the rock genre. Flores’ presence feels quietly revolutionary, a Mexican-American fronting a raw, guitar-driven band in a space that hasn’t historically made a lot of room for stories like his.

One of the highlights of the set was the band’s latest single, “Gruesome”—a crunchy, emotionally charged track that packs a serious punch both sonically and lyrically. It served as a taste of what’s to come on their upcoming release A Joy So Slow at Times I Don’t Think It’s Coming, due out May 16. If the show was any indication, that record’s going to be a heavy-hitter.

Despite the room’s size, Slow Joy played with arena-level intensity. And the crowd responded in kind. Heads banged, bodies swayed, and there was a shared understanding in the space—something cathartic was happening. Flores’ vulnerability became a vehicle for connection, and the audience met him halfway.

It’s rare to see a band this raw and honest, especially in such an intimate setting. Shows like this remind you why live music matters. It’s not just about hearing your favorite tracks—it’s about feeling them. About being in a room with strangers and suddenly not feeling so alone.

Slow Joy is one to watch. Not just because they sound good (they do), but because they’re doing something that feels real. Grief, healing, heritage, and heavy music—it’s all in the mix. And somehow, it works.

If you get the chance to catch them on tour this year, don’t sleep on it. And definitely keep your ears open for that new record in May. If Saturday night was any indication, A Joy So Slow at Times I Don’t Think It’s Coming might just be one of the most emotionally resonant rock albums of the year.