Hinds Horseshoe Tavern, Toronto ON, May 13

Hinds Horseshoe Tavern, Toronto ON, May 13
Photo: Matt Forsythe
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Queen Street seemed quieter than usual on Mother's Day eve, but the scene inside the Horseshoe may as well have been in a different universe. "We came all the way from Spain to make you sweat," called frontwoman Carlotta Cosials to the sold-out crowd. "And it's cold out!"
 
The air outside was actually balmy for Toronto, but goddamn if Hinds didn't make you yearn for a cloudless day on a beach someplace, the sun so hot your skin turns pink. Ana García Perrote serves as Cosials' co-frontwoman, with Ade Martín on bass and Amber Grimbergen on drums. The group's chemistry is airtight; Cosials and Perrote strike each other like match and matchbook on vocal harmonies that sound so effortless, they must have taken years to perfect.
 
Their opening song, "The Club," is a bouncy banger that they've called their "presentation card," an ode to loving someone, letting out a terrified breath, and telling them, for the first time, exactly how much. It set the tone for an evening of songs that hinge on similar emotions, on moments of catharsis and confession. They're unafraid to display the messy truth of their feelings, whether they're begging a loved one to stay — on "Easy," with its plaintive cry of, "And you watered my life, I need you by my side" — or telling a loser to get fucked, on "Tester," which repeats the question, "Should I have known before you were also banging her?" no less than six glorious times.
 
But the real stars of these songs aren't the lovers and louts who float through the lyrics, though. The songwriters sit at the emotional centre here, building up a dynamic that feels a lot like a late-night group text with your girls, a cozy spree of uninhibited shit-talking and starry-eyed accounts of dates and maybe-dates. The magic of their live set is to pull listeners in close, to give you the same chances to commiserate and celebrate. There is no room for shame, for self-consciousness. You did come to dance, after all. And not just to dance — to sweat.