25 Years of Slumping: Grandaddy @ The Danforth
- DEC. 8, 2025
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- WRITTEN BY MAIA CASSIE
After releasing The Sophtware Slump to critical acclaim in 2000, American indie rock band Grandaddy toured North America only once, in 2004. Now, 21 years later, they returned for a full tour of North America to celebrate the 25th anniversary of their beloved album.
In the Toronto leg of their tour, the crowd at the Danforth Music Hall appeared unsurprisingly giddy, eager to welcome them back. Before Grandaddy began their set, we had the pleasure of seeing Greg Freeman open. Thanks to his vivid lyricism and wonderfully twangy delivery, Freeman could have easily been mistaken for the main act (and indeed, he will return to Toronto in January for his own tour). He immediately captivated the audience, or at least piqued their interest; I glanced down to see the attendee in front of me scrolling through Freeman's Wikipedia page, and was glad to see that he had—quite deservingly—earned himself a new fan.
Though I was already attending this concert in part to see Freeman, his set certainly deepened my appreciation for him. It mostly consisted of his recent album Burnover, a favourite of mine, paired with a few older songs—“Colorado,” off his 2022 album, was a standout. As he addressed the crowd, Freeman was often endearingly shy, but each song sparkled with focused passion. His voice was fantastic and shockingly identical to his recorded vocals, but that wasn’t all the band had to offer; Freeman was accompanied by a talented group of musicians, the saxophonist especially shining.
Grandaddy made their way onto the stage soon after, welcomed by all the cheering you’d expect for an indie legend who hadn’t toured North America since 2004. The crowd was mostly middle-aged and older men, but they were no less lively than a younger audience; the Danforth buzzed with the shared thrill of finally seeing a band that many had loved for decades. As attendees filled the air with whoops and “rock on” hand signs, it felt like they were greeting an old friend.
The setup on stage was admittedly static, with each member of the band confined to his own corner and no one occupying the centre space that Freeman had. Behind them, an idiosyncratic slideshow of images—dogs, cars, signs, landscapes—played on the screen. The show lacked the extravagant effects you might expect at a large venue or the eccentric stage presences at smaller ones, but Grandaddy’s sound more than made up for this.
For the first half of the night, they played through their 2000 album Sophtware Slump; it was, after all, the 25th Anniversary of Sophtware Slump tour. Before coming, I was worried that the album was getting a little stale for me—perhaps I listened to it too many times in preparation for the show—but Grandaddy had no trouble bringing it to life. If any doubt lingered, their performance of “Hewlett’s Daughter” made it clear that, even after 25 years, they still knew how to make their music land powerfully in front of a crowd.
When they returned for their second set, frontman Jason Lytle promised the crowd they’d be “way less serious,” and indeed, both the performers and crowd appeared more laid back. At one point, Lytle began “Saddest Vacant Lot in the World,” paused, then suddenly stopped the song. He was met with laughter and cheers as he provided an enigmatic explanation for the pivot: “I’ll tell you what the problem is: that’s about a hewlett. Let’s do one about a dog.”
After playing a good few favourites off various albums, Grandaddy exited and then returned for an encore consisting of “El Caminos in the West,” “I’m on Standby,” and—to the crowd’s delight—“A.M. 180.” They played for almost two hours—a fact that I overheard people excitedly mention as we made our way out of the Danforth and towards Line 2. I wasn’t surprised to see that everyone was as pleased with the evening as I was. The setlist, length, and atmosphere all felt crafted with fans in mind.
As soon as I got home, I listened again to “A.M. 180.” The original on Spotify suddenly felt tame and flat. That original version, of course, is fantastic, but my underwhelm spoke to how great Grandaddy sounded live. I guess I’ll have to wait another two decades or so to hear my favourite rendition of “A.M. 180” again.
