Slow Magic at the Boot and Saddle
It’s hard to make electronic music feel live, but this past Wednesday the 24th of September, Slow Magic & co. came through the Boot & Saddle and gave an epically entertaining, insanely engaging show.
Openers Daktyl and Kodak to Graph gradually pulled in a crowd to the small soundproofed room with great experimental, bass-loaded electronics; the latter played a remix of the headliner’s song “Girls” to get the audience excited for the next set.
When Slow Magic came on, his trademark LED animal/tribal mask—albeit surprising for people who had never image searched the artist before—combined with the neon-lit, translucent drums, made the concert room literally transform into an intensely colorful soundscape.
After this concert, I can say definitively that the mystery artist’s second trademark is crowd engagement. He let the front row mess with a grid-based piece of equipment that added drumbeats to the intro of a song during the concert, gave us high fives, offered us water, went crazy with the drums (stacked them on top of each other; jumped off stage and played them in the audience to make a quasi-mosh pit of jumping concertgoers). It felt like he was personally inviting each of us to become an active part of the concert, and that overshadowed a few technical difficulties that occurred to the sound system during production.
“Girls” and “Corvette Casette” were especially massive hits; because the artist was so involved with the audience, the whole thing started to feel more like a house party rather than a concert.
Imaginary friend image aside, the mystery artist behind Slow Magic delivered a very real and hype concert that’s presumably left everyone with extremely high standards for future live electronic production. Add in the two opening acts and I’ve never been to a concert where all of the artists seemed as excited to be performing—and one where the headliner’s music was so well complemented by the preceding sets. Finally, there’s something to be said for the anonymity of a performer—while the mask makes for a great photo op, you’re forced to solely focus on the production of music and the sound itself without conjectures about the artist getting in the way of the experience.