Lord Huron’s lantern-lit longing filled Cable Dahmer Arena

3 hours ago

Alex Dodderidge, Zoe Strohm,

Lord Huron. // photo by Zoe Strohm

Lord Huron
w/ Kevin Morby
Cable Dahmer Arena
Saturday, Oct. 25

Following a decade and a half of cinematic myth-making, Lord Huron returned to KC for the third time with a diverging, two-hour set that reminded a crammed Cable Dahmer Arena why their specific brand of terra-cotta-toned expedition lands with pastoral devotion. Independence isn’t necessarily an area that begs for the mystic, but Ben Schneider and crew summoned it regardless: barren horizons, phantom spectators, fated lovers flickering at the border of memory.

Overland Park’s own Kevin Morby served as the opening act, lighting the night’s fuse in a short and very constricted 30-minute set; Huron’s aftermath incinerated the rest of it down in a scintillating mish-mosh of soundscapes.

Kevin Morby. // photo by Zoe Strohm

Morby has consistently evoked an artist from a different era, something he leaned into heavily on this weekend tilt. The wayward chronicler dressed in dark maroon, bathed in stadium light, and moved through his seven inclusions at a rapid, reluctant pace, hiding the weight of each line the best he could during his hometown moment.

The half-hour was quick, almost an ingrained memoir as opposed to an overarching novel, even including a quick cameo from his partner-in-crime Katie Crutchfield during “Campfire”. Lightning bursts of concise psychedelia that have found their way into his LP work gave mention, but most of the time was a gentle reminder of his core appeal: joy, simplicity, and a strong-willed poetic resolve. He knew his place, and didn’t try to be hipper or louder than needed, only pure and ever-present. He exited to earnest acclaim, Royals undershirt intact, the space fine-tuned for what was to come.

Lord Huron opened in complete widescreen, all atmosphere, echo, and frontier-level reverb. Frontman Ben Schneider is striking because of his denial to rush the payoff to his hijinks. With more than a decade of albums (something the frontman gave notice to during his few conversations with the crowd) that complement memory as something of a guide as well as a curse, the guys have learned how to use patience as a dramatic technique. The elongated set folded over like a midnight cruise with no horizon in the distance: only the headlights in sight, bleak surroundings encompassing every side—something you can’t pinpoint, yet calls you to stay with it. Modern music has become oversaturated in overstimulation, and their resonance is treasonous in comparison.

Lord Huron. // Photo by Zoe Strohm

When the tempos crescendoed, such as during opener “Who Laughs Last” (which introduced Schneider’s noteworthy phone booth skit), the eclectic “Ancient Names, Pt. I”, or “Frozen Pines”, all of which hinge on their four-guitar power lineup and frenzied tremolo, the catharsis maintained consistent—a flare in the night rather than a full-on fire pit. Schneider’s energy and voice, a lot less vulnerable than anticipated, cut across the arena with a surprising level of precision. The best compliment you could give? He sings like a man who has defiantly lived through the consequences of every love he warns you about.

The 22-track set played by the eight-person group leaned on ambience: stretched out portions of instrumental blossom, ghostly harmonies, and guitar flourishes reminiscent of Morricone on antidepressants that gave way to the uncanny. As they dipped their toes into romantic turmoil, the room accepted the turn gracefully. Lord Huron has never been about chasing their own shadow, or strutting to their own ego; their emotional tendencies come with an unnerving curiosity, not an impulsive aim.

But the glue that kept everything together was the invasive sense of quiet. Just as other indie folk artists like Gregory Alan Isakov and The Head and the Heart find success in nocturnal empty space, Huron utilized the silence, like suspended melancholy from cuts “Twenty Long Years” and “I Lied”, or Schneider moving from full-group freak-out to massive minimization akin to losing a lover to the ether in “Ancient Names”, complete with excessive strobe work. There was room for the packed audience to feel without obvious intention. Everyone was just standing inside an isolated cinematic despondency, with no one in a hurry to leave before the four-song encore.

If you could spot a tumble, it came from another art form: over-orchestrated, track-opening dance renditions that breathed exhaustion where everything else remained tight. The clan’s core identity of maximized romanticism can sometimes tip into psychodrama, and it did here, with an overwrought runway too wide and too long that the intention lost its overall shape. But in a way, the obvious nature of the misstep further cemented the care and precision the rest of the night brought forth. An overblown or contrived idea doesn’t really diminish an excursion that had already engraved its headstone.

Lord Huron. // Photo by Zoe Strohm

In the end, Lord Huron wasn’t bent on stringing along its devotees with a pre-ordained ministry. Their world-building nature was on full display, but the genius comes from letting each person wander, slip up, and feel heartache at their own preferred speed. That kind of disposition—next-to-zero preaching, even distribution of flare and haunted quiet—is what differentiates them from the pack. No hand to push you in a direction, but a beacon shedding some light, letting you decide where to go.

No bow-tied resolution or grandiose conclusion after the long stretch and breezy Saturday night; just a packed house blinking back into the incandescent present, their blood still entrenched in the band’s played-out dream.

All photos by Zoe Strohm:

Lord Huron

Lord Huron Setlist
Who Laughs Last
Looking Back
Bag of Bones
Ends of the Earth
The Ghost on the Shore
Wait by the River
Secret of Life
Used to Know
Ancient Names, Pt. I
Long Lost
Twenty Long Years
Watch Me Go
I Lied
La Belle Fleur Sauvage
Frozen Pines
Meet Me in the Woods
The Night We Met
—
The World Ender
Nothing I Need
Not Dead Yet
Life is Strange