Atop the dark stage in the large ballroom of Nashville’s The Basement East sit six vintage television sets, arranged in a cultish semicircle. I’m here to see Joywave, the glitchy indie-pop group from Rochester, New York. They’re 10 minutes late. I begin to look at my watch when I hear a dull murmur emerge around the room. As I lift my gaze, I see a single man emerge from the darkness. A dim light illuminates his body from below. I can’t make out his face, but I can see his shirt strikingly clear. On it reads one succinct sentence: “I don’t like corn dogs, but I do like Korn, dawg.”