Khruangbin @ Red Rocks

Psychedelia, funk, soul, and all around, straight up vibes were the theme of the night at Red Rocks in Morrison, CO on August 27. With Peter Cat Recording Co. and the one and only Khruangbin taking the legendary stage. As I overheard one nearby fan say about Khruangbin in total awe: “No one plays like this live.” The experience was nothing short of sublime. So, let’s get into it.

Review written by Anna McGeady

Peter Cat Recording Co.

I didn’t quite know what to expect from this tongue-twister of a band. But..they didn’t disappoint and brought a soulful, almost crooning sound to kick off the night. There were some songs that reminded me of an old-school, slow doo-wop, but with a modern, fresh, interesting take. All of this was enhanced by the lead singer, Suryakant Sawhney, swaying about the stage in harem-style pants, holding the mic wire like something out of a smoky cabaret scene. My favorite part of his ensemble? The Salomon hiking boots.

The crowd was settling in for the main event. Earth tones moving and swaying against the amphitheater of red rock. I ended up sitting (well, standing and dancing) next to a friendly climber from San Diego who’d flown in for the show. “He has a really nice voice,” he remarked about the opener. I thought that was pretty spot on.

Khruangbin

The first notes of Khruangbin’s set felt like a deep, satisfying breath. The kind of breath that melts away whatever you’d been feeling – stress, tension, anticipation – and grounds you right where you are. From the moment the lights went up on stage, I was completely transfixed. The environment Khruangbin creates is so intimate, it’s easy to forget you’re in a crowd of nearly 10,000 people.

The stage production itself was minimalist but endlessly fascinating to watch, as were Laura Lee and Mark Speer’s pointed movements around the stage. Laura wore a headpiece that I later realized were two doves in flight, and Mark’s long, obscuring bangs added to the intrigue of the whole performance. At one point the two moved in slow, synchronized steps across the altar-like stairs on stage. Throughout the show, they’d move toward and away from each other, speaking with their instruments and bodies. The whole thing felt like some kind of abstract performance art.

“She’s playing some sacred shit on that bass,” I heard one concert-goer say behind me. Again I thought, spot on.

The stairs on stage led up to three large, arched windows that displayed various visuals throughout the show. The most impressive, I thought, was a simulated thunderstorm, complete with lightning flashes and rain pelting against the windows. At this point, all three artists disappeared backstage. It was spooky, in a way. Like that moment in a dream where things start to go haywire and you’re not sure if it’s about to turn into a full-blown nightmare. But soon enough, the trio emerged and carried on with the ethereal performance.

It was a show unlike anything I’ve ever seen and, I have to add, one of the most chill, friendly crowds I’ve ever been around, too. It was like we were all under some sort of cosmic spell.

There’s something to be said about a slower approach to art. About peeling back heavy production and dance numbers and stripping it down. Enjoying music for the sake of music. There was a sense of collective awe among the crowd and I was filled with what can only be described as overwhelming gratitude. For friendly strangers, for transcendent tunes, and for the magical moments music creates.