— Your Mix Tape show proved that the 90s and 2000s aren’t dead, they just moved to Denver and bought a PA system —

Frontman Chris (think more Chris Farley than Soundgarden’s Cornell) led the band through a nostalgia-laced gauntlet of grunge, pop-punk, and unresolved trauma. Between soaring vocals and occasional stand-up-level banter, Your Mix Tape managed to collapse irony and sincerity into one glorious wall of distortion. According to early reports, an old Blockbuster in Aurora was resurrected and reopened, and at least one thrift store in Five Points sold out of flannel this morning.

-Alternative Pressed Magazine- 

—Brad’s basslines could power the RTD if the city ever figured out how to harness them—

At full volume, he doesn’t just hit frequencies — he rearranges molecular structure. Witnesses claim a neon sign across Colfax started keeping rhythm during My Own Worst Enemy. Somewhere, a traffic light synced to his downbeat. Denver Energy confirmed measurable output but declined further comment, citing “vibe interference.”

-5280Decibels.net-

—Cameron plays guitar like Colorado law requires him to—

At full volume, Cameron’s guitar disrupts basic decision-making. Several patrons believed they could still mosh. They could not. Venue staff reviewed protocols. The riffs continued. A utility meter nearby logged “nonstandard harmonic output.”

-The Front Range Review-

—If tempo ever tried to escape, Nate would find it—

Once Nate counts in, resistance is pointless. During 1985, phones recorded the song at different BPMs and were all somehow correct. The U.S. Forest Service briefly logged the event as “unnatural synchronization” before reclassifying it as a controlled groove and advising nearby wildlife to just ride it out.

-The Rewind Index-

—If nostalgia had a house band, it’d be Your Mix Tape—

These Denver icons bridge the 90s and 2000s like they lived both decades twice — one in real time, and one through reruns on VH1. The setlist swings from grunge grit to pop-punk bliss, from Interstate Love Song to The Middle, with zero irony and way too much heart. It’s not about pretending — it’s about remembering what it felt like when music still meant something, and your biggest worry was burning the perfect mix CD without scratching it.

-The Dial-Up Journal-