LCD Soundsystem is a fixture of the Dance-punk revival genre, named as one of Rolling Stone’s New Immortals—“currently active (or relatively recently defunct) artists who… will stand the test of time.” Although they’ve been in the game for over two decades, they remain remarkably unjaded, with a dynamic stage presence among their analog industrial dance club set. The band took a hiatus in 2011, but reunited to tour in 2015. They feel both seasoned and enraptured with their craft.
I am a devotee of casual fanhood, and a casual fan of LCD Soundsystem. That’s how I found myself with a resale AXS QR code for a back-row single seat at the College Street Music Hall on a Friday night. Before this, my knowledge of LCD Soundsystem was four songs on a playlist and a vague familiarity with the instrumentals of I Can Change from an episode of HBO’s Girls. I couldn’t have told you what LCD stood for (it’s “Liquid Christmas Display”), and I had a reverse Tame Impala moment after a quick Google: Did you know LCD Soundsystem is NOT just one guy?
The College Street Music Hall struck me in two ways: First, the venue eerily resembled my hometown theater, The Paramount in Seattle, which was built just two years later. Second, nearly every couple in the audience bore an uncanny resemblance to my ex-boyfriend’s parents. This disarmed me, admittedly, but I marched on and settled into my lofted balcony roost.
LCD Soundsystem began with the track “Get Innocuous!” from their 2007 album, Sound of Silver. The seven-minute track set the tone for the evening’s rhythm. Their hypnotic live synth eased me into their long-haul style of dance music. There was no consensus among concert-goers about the best way to go about dancing to LCD Soundsystem. Some frat flicked, others swayed gently. This shifted over the two and a half hour show; by the final tracks, the pit was animated and moshing, and the concertgoers on the balcony bounced and undulated rhythmically.
They performed a total of 18 tracks. A little over halfway through, the word “intermission” in all lowercase drifted across the screen in front of a disco-ball graphic. Later, the words “Robot Rock” flashed as they resumed the show, underlining the tension between the organic performance and the mechanical precision that drives their music. Or maybe frontman James Murphy was just having fun with his alliteration.
Their live renditions of my favorite tracks surged with energy and hit me with unexpected force. All My Friends and I Can Change carried a resonance that felt uncannily timed as I transitioned into this threshold moment, starting college. What makes LCD Soundsystem’s sound so affecting is the way it marries the electronic and the emotional. Synth loops are layered with Murphy’s raw, conversational vocals. Towards the end of their set, they played their newest track: X-Ray Eyes, released in 2024 as an EP. The vocals are talky, slightly bratty, and evoke the style of The Dare.
A disco ball floated overhead the College Street Music Hall stage, orbiting and refracting the vibrant fluorescent lighting. This was a nod to a motif that has defined their brand, adorned the hoodies at the merch table, and hides in the corner of their website. On stage, beneath the prismatic globe, the band functions like a factory; band members glide from digital mixer to keyboard. Murphy is a fixture, though. Wearing black jeans and a Bar Brutal BCN t-shirt, he bounded enthusiastically, bantered with the audience, and belted through his setlist.
The show deliberately lingers. I will be the first to admit that my attention span is shattered; I struggled to stay engaged with the performance. But a few songs in, in the dark recesses of the balcony, I was carried along by each track. I felt myself relearning the value of payoff as I was jolted by tempo changes, spun around by the electronic soundscape, and transported by Murphy’s vocals. His voice feels personal––talk-singing––weaving in and out of the beat, and interacting with the electronic soundscape. Murphy’s voice tethers the tracks with warmth and texture among the mechanical precision and loops that define LCD’s sound.
This evening did more than reward my casual attention; it expanded my appreciation for LCD Soundsystem’s discography. I was reminded that the medium of live music is about slowing down, sharing a moment with a theater full of strangers, and allowing yourself to become engrossed with the sounds and visuals. Since the concert, my enjoyment of music has become less about mindless consumption and more about the communion of a shared art form, and the patience of payoff only comes when you stay long enough to experience it. I should have known I would walk out of College Street Music Hall entirely devoted to robot rock.
