It was a hot one. One of those sticky Virginia summer evenings where it rains one minute and then the sun comes out the next. You could practically see the heat rising off the parking lot like the ghost of last weekend’s tailgate. But nobody cared, not even a little, because Styx was in town.
Jiffy Lube Live — our own suburban amphitheater out in Bristow — had the glow of pilgrimage about it. Boomers, Gen Xers, their kids, a few ironic Gen Zs in vintage tees, all converging on the Brotherhood of Rock Tour, headlined by Styx, on July 12, like it was a family reunion for the cosmically initiated.
And really, that’s what it felt like. A gathering of true believers. People who remember when album covers were portals and FM radio was church. People who still know every word to “Come Sail Away” and sing them like they’re casting spells. No one’s there to be cool, they’re there because this music meant something once, and it still does.
The pavilion seats looked like a sea of bobbing mullets, tie-dye tanks and more than a few Styx shirts and denim by the time I made it to the photo pit in front of the stage. Merch booths were doing swift business — lots of tour shirts flying out the door, and more than a few folks proudly rocking original ’78 reprints like armor. You could feel it in the air: Tonight was gonna be big.
The lights dropped. The synth hum started and opening with “The Grand Illusion” was a power move, like announcing right away that, yes, this is that show. The one where spectacle and sincerity shake hands and pull you into the mystic. The band hit that opening like they’d been shot out of a glitter cannon. Lawrence Gowan — ever the showman — twirled like a Broadway Dracula behind his rotating keyboard rig, jacket sparkling, smile blazing. We were off to a great start for the night.
Stream “The Grand Illusion” by Styx on YouTube:
And then straight into “Fooling Yourself (The Angry Young Man),” which was like a love letter to every grumpy dad in cargo shorts who used to drum on his steering wheel during the morning commute. The harmonies were locked in, tight. Tommy Shaw’s vocals sounding perfect. And the crowd roared like they were seeing Styx in a smoky theater in 1977, not a massive shed off of I-66.
“Superstars” hit third and carried the momentum without a hitch. There’s always been something oddly touching about that track — a little wink, a little chest-thump. You could feel the energy cresting, the collective nostalgia bubbling up like the foam in a stadium beer cup.
And then they dropped the big one. “Come Sail Away.” Those iconic piano chords, soft and steady, floating across the crowd like sonic stardust and people lost their damn minds. I saw a guy near me grabbed his partner’s hand like they were about to be abducted by aliens together — and in a way, I guess they were.
Gowan stretched the intro just enough to savor it. And when the guitars kicked in? Pure lift-off. Phones in the air. That classic rock communion moment where nobody’s judging anybody else’s pitch because everyone’s too busy yelling “I’m sailing awaaaay!” with every ounce of heart they’ve got left.
From there, the band moved into “Miss America,” all swagger and bite. James “JY” Young still sounds like he gargles with lava. It was a reminder that Styx has teeth, even when they’re crooning about supermodels and existential dread.
Then “Man in the Wilderness,” which hit like a meditation under a swirling stage of purple light. There’s a gravity to that song live, the way it trudges through self-doubt and still lands on something soaring. Tommy Shaw took center stage and just owned it — voice still golden, guitar tone sharp enough to draw blood.
And when “Castle Walls” started, you could hear a ripple in the crowd. Real fans know that one. Dark, brooding, theatrical — classic prog pomp turned into a midnight hymn. And when it rolled into The Grand Finale, well… that wasn’t just a clever setlist trick. That was full-circle magic.
“Rockin’ the Paradise” was next, a cut off the Paradise Theater album and it hit surprisingly hard. It had bite, an edge with the kind of groove that makes you tap your foot before you even realize it.
Then came “Too Much Time on My Hands,” and it blew the lid off the place. That riff is eternal. Tommy hamming it up, leading a ridiculous crowd clap, the band stretching it out just enough to let everyone soak in the absurd joy of that chorus. Air drums, bad dancing, full-on stadium karaoke. It ruled.
Stream “Too Much Time on My Hands” by Styx on Spotify:
Styx followed it with “Lady,” which could’ve gone maudlin but didn’t. Lawrence’s vocals gave it lift, and the crowd sang it back like a vow. It’s easy to forget how weirdly powerful that song is until you’re watching a thousand people sing it like their lives depend on it.
I loved “Build and Destroy,” a cut off their latest album, Circling From Above. The guitars got a little gnarlier and the light rig shifted from warm nostalgia to something more feral, a little aggressive. Not angry, but definitely defiant.
The next song was “Best of Times.” This one always gets the crowd singing. There’s something devastating in how hopeful it is. That chorus — “These are the best of times…” — you feel it. It’s not naïve; it’s earned and in that moment, it felt true.
Then from their Pieces of Eight album, Tommy Shaw started playing the guitar intro to the working man’s anthem, “Blue Collar Man (Long Nights),” and the crowd went crazy, throwing their hands into the air and singing lustily along and slightly out of tune.
For the encore, the band didn’t play coy. The lights dipped, the synths kicked in, and the unmistakable robotic pulse of “Mr. Roboto” took over. People lost it. That song’s gone full circle — from kitsch to classic — and watching an entire amphitheater chant “Domo arigato!” in unison was pure, campy joy. Backed by serious musicianship and complete commitment, Gowan milked it, full Bowie mode.
And then it was “Renegade.” What else could it be? That heartbeat kick drum, that haunting “Oh Mama…” intro — it built like a thunderstorm. And when it broke, the place exploded, with everyone on their feet, singing along. No one left early. When the final chord rang out, the band took their bows. And just like that, the house lights came up.
Styx isn’t just nostalgia; they’re not just a trip down memory lane and on that hot Virginia night, they gave us more than a show.
They gave us the best of times.
Setlist
1. The Grand Illusion
2. Fooling Yourself (The Angry Young Man)
3. Superstars
4. Come Sail Away
5. Miss America
6. Man in the Wilderness
7. Castle Walls
8. The Grand Finale
9. Rockin’ the Paradise
10. Too Much Time on My Hands
11. Lady
12. Build and Destroy
13. Best of Times
14. Blue Collar Man (Long Nights)
Encore
15. Mr. Roboto
16. Renegade
Here are some photos of Styx headlining Jiffy Lube Live on July 12, 2025. All pictures copyright and courtesy of Michael Sprouse/Odd Rocker Photography.
