Disclosure’s Wild Life show series kicked off at Berkeley’s Greek Theatre, with openers Bishop Nehru, Kaytranada, and a Claude Vonstroke vs. Justin Martin DJ battle setting the tone for a night of musically-induced ecstasy. I describe the scene this way—“musically-induced ecstasy”—fully aware that it sounds mildly absurd and exaggerated, but there is no other terminology I can think of that can give the opening talent their due credit. To lend some perspective: These guys successfully got a crowd of 8,500 people hyped by 7:45 pm last Friday evening. They were so immediately engaging that the mass of glowing, videotaping smart phone screens typically prevalent at shows of this scope was practically nonexistent from that point forward, stowed away in favor of experiencing the show in real time and dancing (or rhythmically shuffling in place, because that floor was packed) all night long.
Each of the Wild Life openers was irrefutably excellent. Thanks to their talent, the crowd fell into a trance of electrified movement and light way, way earlier than anyone had anticipated. When Disclosure came onstage almost two and a half hours after the first opener, they had not just an audience, but a massive congregation of people readily devout to the now clearly defined Wild Life vibe. The stage was perfectly set for one hell of a performance.
To use a common expression, this was a religious experience. I don’t mean to be sacrilegious. When I say “religious experience”, I mean it in the most literal way possible. The structure, the staging, the giant Disclosure face on the giant screens staring down at a giant crowd of screaming devotees were reminiscent of an oversized altar. We were cheering, vibing, laughing, dancing, crying, and singing to the glowing neon set. After the magnificent finale, we streamed out of the Greek and rabidly emptied out merch stands, strung together playlists on Spotify, shared our favorite pictures and videos of the night all over the web and started making plans to catch their next live set, wherever and whenever possible. In an hour and a half, we were converted into disciples of the Church of Disclosure.
The theatrics were, without a doubt, entirely textbook, but they were masterfully executed. The brothers each had individualized DJ setups and stage lights were glowing, swaying and strobing from above. Giant multi-paneled screens loomed up from behind them, covered in swirling lines and charmingly primitive tracings with the Disclosure sketch face in one continuous loop. They opened with “F for You,” where all of these aforementioned elements went haywire as the Mary J. Blige voiceover earnestly, passionately crooned, “Boy, your love’s got me in a daze / and I’ll do anything you say” over Howard Lawrence’s electrified, monotonic chants of, “Because I played the fool for ya / because I played the fool for you.”
“F for You” straight up gave me chills. It was not, by far, the only performance in the set to do so. I could talk about “When a Fire Starts to Burn,” and the way that the red and gold light show played on the audience like a series of flames lighting up up the Greek. I could comment on the surreal moment when the crowd’s singing along to the chorus of “You and Me” was overwhelmingly louder than the vocals coming from the towering speaker columns. I could even elaborate on the trippy 3D graphical sequence, a cubical equivalent of a living M.C. Escher piece, that played across the big screens throughout “Confess to Me” and “Apollo”. This entire night was a series of hypnotic events that culminated in a sensation of complete surrender to the music.
The two-part finale sequence was the most mind-blowing part. When London Grammar’s first heart-breaking vocal sequence in “Help Me Lose My Mind” came on, the lights came off. The brothers Lawrence were doing their magic, lit under two spotlights, and a lone animated, lip-syncing figure of the Disclosure face logo graced the center screen and stared down at a stunned silent crowd. As the chorus came around, the 8,500 bodies in the Greek Theatre found their voices in time to rally a loud, built-up, enraptured cry to join the disembodied logo face. We were singing to it, praising it, and we relished hitting the high notes and losing our voices as every haunting repetition of “Youuu / help me lose my miiiind” washed over us.
The delicate poignancy of that performance, I thought, could not be matched, even with knowing that Disclosure had to be closing out with their breakout hit. When they teased us that they would be ending the night with “Latch,” the crowd systematically screamed on cue. But when Sam Smith, the song’s accompanying vocalist, emerged through the fog and smoke clinging to the edges of stage right, we took a beat to recompose ourselves (and whip out camera phones for the first time that night) before yelling ourselves into euphoria. When both artists delivered a nearly flawless rendition of “Latch” that night, they removed any doubt in our minds that standing on that stage was exactly where they were supposed to be, and that us cheering them on was exactly what we were supposed to do. This was Wild Life, where we became disciples of this music, this giant, omnipresent face glowing on the screen, this entity that is the Church of Disclosure.
(‘17, Communication, Music Editor) is a contributor from San Antonio, TX. She believes in making playlists for every occasion and chronically overthinks everything.