GLASS SPELLS
9/7/25 – The Meadows – Brooklyn, NYC
©Alice Teeple
At The Meadows in Brooklyn, the night was lit by pink pillars that cut through the cavernous dark like neon relics. It was the kind of room where time felt elastic: past and future meeting in a bass line. Into this stepped Glass Spells, a duo from San Diego with the rare ability to make a warehouse feel like a chapel and a dance floor all at once.
Tania Costello, in her signature “space witch” regalia, floated across the stage as though she had conjured the venue itself. Every gesture seemed to summon new energy, her voice a torch in the murk. Anthony Ramirez manned the controls with quiet authority, sculpting rhythms and textures that carried the songs into the rafters. Together, they had the chemistry of two conspirators, building something larger than themselves, brick by glowing brick.
The set opened with Mirrors, its refrains bouncing off the room’s stone bones, before plunging into Night Hour, a track that had the crowd swaying as if tethered to the same pulse. Hechizos unfolded like a spell in motion, while Psychic Lovers teased with its mix of immediacy and mystery. The audience leaned in, caught between exhilaration and surrender.
Midway through, Fears and We Never Sleep hammered out the heartbeat of the show, both restless and relentless. When the duo moved into Empty Road and City, the songs sharpened the night with a cinematic edge, painting wide horizons across the club’s concrete walls. Don’t Save Me and Without You carried the air of intimate confessionals somehow scaled to fit the entire room.
By the time Shattered and Confessions arrived, the air was thick with momentum, the crowd fully inside the circle Glass Spells had drawn. Then came Thrills, an aptly named surge that had bodies moving with abandon, before the surprise cover: Spellbound by Siouxsie and the Banshees, which landed like a love letter across decades of synth-pop lineage. Suddenly, the show felt less like a performance and more like a summoning. Costello danced in a frenzy, every movement sharper, wilder, as if calling something down from the rafters. The audience erupted, locked into the moment.
Glass Spells brought Brooklyn a spirit that felt both intimate and immense, their San Diego roots stretching into New York’s restless sky. Costello’s voice cut through with clarity and conviction, while Ramirez built worlds beneath it. Together, they made the cavern glow.
Glass Spells didn’t need excess to prove themselves. They had the crowd, the songs, and the lights that painted the air pink. Sometimes that’s all it takes: two people, a stage, and a room full of believers.
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