Centerstage - Chicago's Original City Guide

Amon Tobin is nowhere to be seen. The stage is motionless, and with the curtains down all that stands between the crowd and the stage is a thin layer of darkness. It’s slight, but deep and resonates. A steady static underlines everything, and a slow, almost inaudible, thoom of bass echoes throughout the Congress. You can feel it, but the crowd is so raucous it’s a wonder if anyone even hears it. Thoom—in regular, deep, monolithic intervals. It shakes the core and rattles the pulse.

photo: Jeff Min

photo: Jeff Min

And that’s how Amon Tobin enters the arena—long before the curtains draw; before the crowd even realizes it, they are already immersed in the set. Thoom, a flicker of light flashes on stage, momentarily rousing the crowd—but still no Amon Tobin. By the time he appears—in a space suit no less—the Congress is already delighted with a jaw dropping installation, a giant sculpture composed of large squares. Each one programmed with stunning visuals. One moment you’re descending in and out of galaxies, and the next you’re hit with a cascade of lights resembling a Martian metropolitan.

photo: Jeff Min

photo: Jeff Min

Throughout the set Amon appears sporadically, twisting knobs here and there, but it’s when he disappears into the darkness that the full effect is felt. Rhythmic aspirations of sonic exploration thematize Amon’s set, leading to new soundscapes. It’s not a concert so much as it is an engagement of sight and sound.