Tell me you’re getting old without telling me you’re getting old: I hate phones at gigs. I cannot understand why anyone would rather miss the experience of a show just to capture something at a relatively average quality that they’re highly unlikely to ever watch again.
That’s why tonight, at the Eventim Apollo, the lack of phone screens obscuring the view and dampening the atmosphere makes it all feel like we’ve entered another realm. A place where music fans are present, just enjoying the moment. It’s fucking amazing.
I didn’t realise this was a thing at Khruangbin shows — and I’m sure it’s been well-covered by now — but the band always requests people refrain from using their handheld pressy-button devices during their live performance. The difference it makes is indescribable. I’m emotional.
The atmosphere created by the stage set — three large, warmly lit windows, and a set of steps, all in a terracotta hue — and the enveloping sound is something that needs to be bathed in. That’s how you experience Khruangbin. You have to embrace the show wholly.
The last time I saw them was a few years ago on a huge outdoor stage at Primavera Sound in Barcelona. The sun added its own thing, and it was a great set. But, this feels different. We’re in Khruangbin’s world here. And it’s warm. And I like it.
They’re more aware than ever of their sound now, and they’re fully invested in immersing us all in it. This venue has a sonic quality that works incredibly well for this band — the melodic swells and the delicate dynamics of their songs are given room to breathe and take on their own life.
The set begins with the band performing their latest release, A La Sala, in its exact running order. Think sunkissed, warm, blissful tones and hues. The record flows wonderfully, and it’s even more effective. Then, after a short, dramatic interval (rainfall included) they return with familiar “older” songs like ‘Zionsville’, ‘August Twelve’, ‘Mr White’,‘Two Fish and an Elephant’, and ‘Dern Kala’.
These tracks are a prime set up for the funky and soulful ‘Evan Finds the Third Room’ — which is like being lured into a trance by the power of groove and musical feeling — and the subsequent, and intricately woven ‘Maria También’. The latter tune has a middle-eastern sound, with guitar tones and style that is shaped by a staccato approach to how the notes are played. This is all enhanced by a very short delay that makes it sound somewhat otherworldly.
I guess I got hung up on these two tracks because they feel deliberate, both in their style and production, and in their placement tonight. I think it’s because there’s something integral to the band in those styles. You can hear their influences pouring out in their riffs, rhythms and melodies here, and I love feeling the band’s identity hitting me right between the eyes.
To wrap up, the band works through a trio of fan favourites — ‘White Gloves’, ‘Time (You and I)’, and ‘People Everywhere (Still Alive) — and it’s safe to say this show felt different. In part, because of the lack of phones and, in turn, the lack of reason to be distracted. By going on the band’s journey, fully, it feels like watching a movie for the second or third time, where you catch more details and recognise the “why” things are done the way they’re done.
So yeah, if that is a sign I’m growing as old as the hills, fine by me. I like hills.
After first rising to prominence with the expansive, 1980s-inspired dream-pop of ‘Preacher’s Daughter’ and its standout tracks, Ethel Cain has spent much of her artistic journey trying to step away from that sound. She’s leaned into a moodier mix of drone, ambient rock, and raw analogue textures. “I’m not a fucking pop artist,” the Tallahassee singer once told The FADER, adding, “I reject that wholeheartedly.” Her experimental projects ‘Perverts’ and ‘Willoughby Tucker, I’ll Always Love You’ make that stance very clear, and her latest tour often feels like a firm break from the softer sounds that brought her into the spotlight.
For the first of her five headline nights at Hammersmith Apollo, Hayden Anhedönia builds a scene that feels like a slightly playful, gently eerie B-movie graveyard. She spends most of the performance tucked inside a moss-covered altar, surrounded by dramatic lighting and a crucifix mic stand. The show is nearly silent when it comes to onstage chatter. The rare moments she does address the audience are understated and easy to miss. When a fan shouts their love for her, she responds with a simple “Thank you!” from the darkness.
Instead of walking the stage to build energy, the lighting design carries that weight, mirroring the intensity of her songs. During the gritty, heavy ‘Dust Bowl’, she sings inside a slowly circling beam of light that sweeps across the Apollo with piercing brightness, while strobing green and white lights heighten the tension during long instrumental passages.
Ethel Cain. Credit: Connie Burke
As the warm, rough-edged guitars of ‘Knock At The Door’ fill the room, the production shows it can match the strange, atmospheric side of Cain’s catalogue, even if those moments are rare tonight. The set doesn’t lean heavily on ‘Perverts’, but brief pieces of ‘Houseofpsychoticwomn’ and the title track make their way in. The industrial ballad ‘Vacillator’ appears in full, bathed in stark white light as she softly sings, “If you love me, keep it to yourself,” on a track heavy with buried emotion.
For the most part, the night is devoted to ‘Willoughby Tucker, I’ll Always Love You’. The album slows the cinematic Southern Gothic of her debut ‘Preacher’s Daughter’ and explores the dizzying pull of a teenage love triangle. The shimmering synths of ‘Fuck Me Eyes’ and the lush strings of ‘Nettles’ bring an early glow, before the performance drifts into hazy ambient dream-rock reminiscent of Grouper. The mood is thick and steady, though it lacks big shifts in dynamics, leaving the set on a single emotional wavelength.
When ‘Tempest’ is briefly stopped and restarted so medics can help an audience member, ‘Waco, Texas’ follows as the main set closer. The encore then pivots toward older material, shifting the tone entirely. After a heartfelt ‘A House in Nebraska’, Anhedönia steps out from behind her green altar for the first and last time, moving into the brighter side of her discography with ‘Crush’ and ‘American Teenager’. Even though she has expressed discomfort with her most well-known tracks, their contrast with her darker material gives the finale a powerful lift. After holding the room in quiet tension for so long, their arrival feels like a release that lands with even greater impact.
