A Vibrant Cacophony of Gecs
With the crisp of the morning air wearing off into sticky heat, thousands hovered on their computers, waiting for 10am. On that bright July morning, months of patience bubbled over after a hibernation of desires and rebirth of souls: it was a bright season of new possibilities, and concerts were on the horizon. Even with our greedy finger hovering on the mouse, the first round of tickets was sold out in seconds, but not 15 minutes later, and 100 gecs to spare, a late show, was released with enough tickets for the lot of us.
SOPHIE (left) and A.G. Cook (right) in a DJ booth performing at a club. Via
The cultural tidal wave started more like a puddle in the early 2010s, as hyperpop boiled and bubbled across motherboards and started to fill clubs with electronic beats that could give a schizophrenic cyborg a run for their money. It was a language made all the more beautiful by its pioneers like A.G. Cook and the late SOPHIE who demonstrated its ability to heal through hypnotically spunky violence. And recently, it turned into a movement that has lifted a disparate number of communities into auditory solidarity.
100gecs is masterminded by two wizards of the DJ booth, Laura Les and Dylan Brady, who are 20somethings with roots in the Midwest. Les had even been performing at house sets in Chicago only a few years ago. This primed the Windy City to pull up to throw down on October 21st, the first properly chilly day of a fall in this town.
Scores of youngins lined the street outside of Concord Music Hall, teeth chattering while chatting with friends and friendly faces around them. Some slurred their words of affection while others, pupils at both ends of the extremes, chain-smoked the night away. There was a familiar quality to us all, and our solidarity coalesced in a rebellious air as security tried to divide the screening by male and female. If you have ever met a 100gecs fan, you can guess that this failed miserably.
Twitter discourse surrounding the naive security via
The inside of Concord Music Hall roiled with anticipation as the groups made their last rounds to find friends who stumbled off and to position themselves better around the stage. For soon, the zones would devolve into a battleground of mosh pit, a danger for anyone who was standing close enough with concentric rings of dancers, bouncers, and swayers. At the late show, Aaron Cartier took to the stage to get the jitters out of the crowd and send us to a new level of intoxication as people consumed theirs. The bounces and sways with melodic rap lyrics brought everyone together and the venue rumbled as Cartier, a St. Louis native, shouted “CHI-CA-GO.”
This led to a flurry of movements, lasers, and blackout as a new voice, partially filtered through a modulator, took up the cry. The months of anticipation, the hours staring at the ceiling, and miles driving while blasting “fuck sleep and his cousin” rushed out of every living soul to create a singular mass. From there, the duo broke into their classics in richer, less altered voices than on the album, letting the smiles on their faces slip into the crowd’s ears. The performance was an intimate exchange of steam, foreign sweat, and rough shoves as we fought to stay standing. The crowd was a mob, willing to live by the sword and fight for Les and Brady doth they direct our energy.
My sanity and shoes unlaced by the time Les, who had been running around in circles on stage, took a break from singing through her hair and walked to the edge of the crowd. The crowd surged, squeezing me so hard that I had to look up at her, seemingly hovering above the throng. From this position she preached; I couldn’t tell you what song it was, but her ethereal voice lifted the bass that pulsated through her body. It was religious euphoria for her to pluck your worries and replace them with solidarity. She sang to herself and saved others like her.
The album cover teaser for 10000 gecs via
Les and Dylan disappeared for the night shortly after, but their performance was worth every penny, every second of waiting, and all the besties I lost to the crowd. It was ecstasy that no one in that crowd will lose any time soon. While their music won’t ever sound as raw as that night, those memories boost their beats and feed our newfound anticipation 10 fold as we await their upcoming album, 10000 gecs, coming to a streaming service near you early 2022.
