Featured image: Jackie Lee Young / Shorefire Media

Houston trio, Khruangbin, headed to the Apollo on Monday to play a double set, starting with running through their latest, more stripped-back album A La Sala in full. From the first hum of Mark Speer’s guitar, the swarming audience prepared to be baptised with a night of entrancing, ritualistic psychedelia.

Wasting no time with pleasantries, Khruangbin hurtle headfirst into flaunting their newest release. Bassist Laure Lee Ochoa commands the stage, donning a sequin-clad pair of palazzo pants and a puffed-up peplum- an eccentric and maximalist get-up that certainly contrasts their newest album. While melancholy and minimalist, the contemporary record certainly doesn’t lack grandeur as it throws listeners into an evening full of ambiance and melodrama.

Their second track of the night, ‘May Ninth’, unveils Ochoa’s lyricism and delivery. Not only is the track haunting, but the unconventional (and at times awkward and uncomfortable) positioning of Speer and Ochoa allows the set to weave between a transcendental musical pilgrimage and a modern tragedy. The synchronisation of the pair alongside the dreamy and ambient lighting makes the evening feel like a choreographed ceremony, every step, kneel and twirl perfected.

The second half of A La Sala drifts between an eclectic mixture of funk and soul with (sometimes repetitive) grooves and instrumental guitar. The album is built on its meditative qualities, creating the feeling of wandering into a massage parlour. Yet to dismiss the album completely as one-track would be unfounded; Khruangbin utilise their harmonious musicality to conjure a sound with such familiarity that is impossible not to indulge in.

Though, with an hour more of fuzzy-reverb riffs, a Khruangbin gig is absolutely one you mustn’t come to after a long day.

The first set concludes with a hallucination of a thunderstorm, giving us a five-minute interlude to predict what might be bestowed upon us next. The trio emerge back onto the stage and as if they are clairvoyant, burst into the joyous and intricate ‘White Gloves’ (memorable for being their first ever lyrical release), as well as ‘Mr. White’ – which channels 70s rock whilst emitting a rhythmic undercurrent that may send listeners to sleep, or hoist them up out of their seats. Ochoa doesn’t seem to break a sweat, showing her David-Byrne-like moves for a whopping hour and a half; her authority and hypnotism likened to Sonic Youth’s bass-yielding Kim Gordon.

The final 45 minutes deliver everything we yearn for from the first. The second set embodies their signature feel, with tracks such as ‘Two Fish and an Elephant’ and ‘People Everywhere (Still Alive)’ giving the people what they expect from a Khruangbin gig: a compulsion to sway your hips and tap your feet. The band falls short in the first set, teasing the crowd for their climactic second spectacle. Either a conscious decision to hold one’s breath or simply a lack of gusto within A La Sala, fans remain patiently waiting for a more impactful and harmonious set from Khruangbin. If Marmite could make you feel hatred and love at the same time, it might be called Khruangbin. 

It’s unclear if the unmoving fans are kept in place by the mystique of the music, or the pending threat of a November chill. Regardless, shrieks of approval and lament press against the gold-coated ceiling of the Apollo, calling them to encore. 

Three tracks: ‘Evan finds the Third Room’, ‘María También’ and ‘Time (You and I)’ compel us to the finale, releasing the crowd from their lava lamp microcosm. If you aren’t familiar with the span of works by the group, it may feel more of a timeless void. Upon exit, a punter sighs “can you be both gutted and relieved it’s over?”