The Triple Door presents Dave Hause at The Rabbit Box

Saturday / September 13, 2025 @ 9:00pm

$25 General // $30 Advance :

Dave Hause’s songs have always been rooted in tangible reality—of emotion, of environment, of circumstance. Since releasing his debut album, Resolutions, in 2011, the Philadelphia-born songwriter has poured his whole heart, soul and life into his music. That’s no different on Drive It Like It’s Stolen, his sixth full-length. Its 10 songs overflow with Hause’s trademark urgency and passion, shimmering with a truth that reflects the harsh realities of life in this day and age, as well the intermittent jolts of joy that punctuate it. After all, his songs have always detailed his own personal traumas and triumphs within the setting of an unforgiving capitalist backdrop, tethering those personal experiences to ineluctable external forces. 2013’s second album, Devour, for example, was a response to his divorce from his first wife, while 2019’s Kick saw him tackle hope, depression, global warming and a crumbling American democracy with the news that he was to become a father. Most recently, on 2021’s Blood Harmony, Hause wrote and sang about the positive impact of having twins, and of the joy and excitement of being able to be at home with them for the first couple of years of the pandemic. 

Drive It Like It’s Stolen is just as earnest and heartfelt, raw and real as anything he’s ever written before. Yet there’s also a subtle yet significant difference—here he’s delving into a more fictional type of storytelling to create what he terms "post-apocalyptic Americana”. That’s clear from the title of this album’s haunting and ominous opening song, “Cheap Seats (New Year’s Day, NYC, 2042)”. Set two decades in the future, it’s obviously not about anything that’s actually happened, but is still very much inspired by life. At the start of 2022, Hause was in a good place. He’d changed his diet and had maintained a strenuous workout regimen resulting in improved physical and mental health. Feeling great, he’d decided to go off Lexapro and left to go out on the Blood Harmony band touring. 

“I was feeling great,” he recalls. “I came back to work, didn’t have my meds. But then I’m on tour, I’m not working out, I’m not eating that way anymore. And I’m really faced with the American city, the American experiment post-pandemic. We’re going places and being like, ‘Oh, my God, this is what Portland and San Francisco and Los Angeles look like.’ And it looked terrifying. Whenever I went anywhere, I felt like I was watching the prequel to 12 Monkeys, except I was also living it and just wondering what the fuck was going on. The tour was doing well, but it just felt like my mental health was falling down stairs. A few months later, when we were finishing the tour, we heard stories that people were siphoning gas out of tour buses. So, a lot of the record was kind of born of and trying to wrestle with that.”