Belorussian post-punk synth-pop band, Molchat Doma, would embark on their path to Philadelphia on February 12th, bringing a cold front that would blanket the city in a slurry snowy downfall. Echoing the bright white and desolate landscape of the group self-described as cold, gray, imposing, and industrial, a caricature of their hometown of Minsk. Under this throwing of snow turned hail turned rain outside of a once General Electric Warehouse now turned concert venue, a line would form filled with flurry white face paint, colorful hair, and deep flowing black fabrics. Within those thick brick walls, under the muted light of tinted rusty windows, awaited an altering experience of music.
Taking the stage first would be Sextile, a post-punk three-piece from LA. Filled with electronic cries that churn out at a BPM high enough to move your body until it matches your heart rate, their energy was high from the start and leeching into the crowd. Kicking off the show with “Ripped,” lead singer Brady Keehn would take the mic, bouncing back and forth from stage left to right, hopping down onto speakers to constantly keep the crowd engaged. After the first three, Melissa Scaduto would then take the mic for “Current Affair.” No one in Sextile is a one-trick pony, each member has multiple hats to wear, and each does them impressively well.
I also respect Sextile as they aren’t afraid to do what punks do best and stand up for what they believe in, throwing fists in the air with calls of “Maximum respect! Freedom and love to all people in this world” and flying flags strewn with the words “Abortion Rights Now!” its always nice to see the space as protective as ever. They served as a seamless opener that set the mood for the masses in front of them, particularly with their track “Hazing,” which is slammed with punching vocal calls and grinding electronic gears that mash in a clash of noises that works extremely well.
The lights then dimmed; a red haze slowly crept through the building. The stage was devoid of decoration, nothing but keyboards, drum machines, and guitars. In the center stood a lone mic stand waiting for its handler. One by one, the band would approach to chants from an anticipating crowd. With a droning haunting track reverberating within the old warehouse’s walls, a synth line would start, followed by a drum loop, and then, the night would begin with “Колесом,” before kicking into the intoxicating swells of “Ты Же Не Знаешь Кто Я,” which is personally one of my favorites off of the recently released Belaya Polosa. Beginning with plucking tones that pull your body from the left to right channels the band has alternated them between, it breathes before blossoming into a dreamy synth line that leads into bottomless vocals as you are utterly and completely enthralled in their music.
Being from Belarus, the group’s songs are all in Russian, containing deep lyrics of anguish, violence, introspection, love, and loss. Of course, understanding the lyrics can enhance a home listen, but when you are in lead singer Egor Shkutko’s presence, it does not matter. He has a stage presence the likes of which I just haven’t experienced anywhere else. His calls of song that he produces alongside the flowing movements that he throws his extremities through; truly becoming his craft. He infects the crowd with his energy and pulls it back at his call. Through electronic synth jams, he will stand completely still, arms behind his back same as his backlight, silhouette hanging over the crowd, freeing them only when he allows the music to sweep through him and move everyone in the building. I honestly don’t know if I’ve ever seen so many people dancing at a concert before, but then again goths are born knowing how to dance.
It would be reductive to say it was just his energy that caused this, as Roman Komogortsev and Pavel Kozlov are two enamoring musicians. Both playing synths with Komogortsev on drum machines and guitar, and Kozlov on bass guitar, the three of them are just incredible. The ownership they hold over the crowd is hypnotic. Their expertise in driving synth loops that drag over you, extending intros to build anticipation waiting for them to drop, all culminating in an explosion of sound, lights, and movement. This is a tight-performing group that knows exactly what they’re doing.
The night continues to pump these undulating rhythms through the warehouse with tracks like “Не Вдвоем,” a haunting plea of love with a verse that causes Shkutko’s voice to hop octaves and fall deep down afterward, lifting the ears and chests of the audience then sending them back through the pit. Streams of light careen through the crowd whose movements now mirror Shkutko’s. As I’m standing on the second story of the room, I watch small circles opening and closing throughout the crowd filled with long, shear, dragging sleeves that trace the outlines of dancing figures, hands rising above the sightline that bend to the changes of tone before returning to the swaying mass that has become the herd responding to the band’s every beat. They now fully belong to Molchat Doma.
My favorite moment of their concerts coincidentally coincides with my favorite track “На Дне.” Following “Дискотека,” Shkutko will remove the mic stand from the stage, returning to its focal point alone, a mic behind his back clasped between hands. Framing the stage, Komogortsev and Kozlov begin to work. The synths begin to come in with alternating streams of focused white lights and blue blooms in between filling the thick air with color while obscuring the figures that were once perceived as human. The synths begin to get faster, louder, and higher pitched, quickening the lights around them as the shadow of Shkutko stretches over the crowd resembling Orlok’s hold of Wisburg. As such, the crowd collectively leans forward, closer to the sound, and tighter in their grasp. The synth cuts only to return to a low growling while a blue haze hangs above them totally still. A familiar high-pitched synth now begins from the bottom bass of the speakers as a clapping indicates which song is next. The crowd cheers just as Shkutko’s tall stern presence collapses into a display of movement waving wildly as the music captures every soul in the building. Komogortsev and Kozlov take turns battling keyboard riffs that slice like violin bows through your ears, circling away from their instruments taken by the music and spinning back to their keys just as the other leaves his post. The three of them at times are off instruments completely, looping synths and drums continue to live on as this beast of sound has completely broken free and taken its creators from their craft to embrace its presence as well, allowing them to return only to continue its life. It’s a moment that reminds you why music is meant to be experienced live.
Shortly after the band would fall backstage, summoned once again by the crowd’s chants for more music and the charade that has become of encores. The band saved four of their heaviest hitters for last, and they wouldn’t leave before taking the last bit of energy the crowd had hidden from them. Kicking off the encore was “Клетка” leading to “Тоска” and into “Танцевать.” Translated directly to “dance,” Shkutko began by commanding the crowd to, “Dance! Dance! Dance! Dance!” before the tempo would peak for the night at 170 BPM. At its chorus, the mic would be turned to the crowd who would shout back the singer’s words in his native tongue, a mass of Philadelphians shouting the repetitious lines ‘Я не умею танцевать (I can’t dance)” in cyclic loops over and over while Shkutko drags the mic across the warehouse.
The night would end with the song that put Molchat Doma on the map, “Судно (Борис Рыжий).” Taking over TikTok at the beginning of 2020, it would be an insult to say that’s what got them to where they are. While it most definitely brought them a wide range of fans, these three men are incredible musicians who have put years of work into becoming the world’s most popular Russian-speaking band according to the Moscow Times, but it’s a no-brainer why the song blew up its one-of-a-kind. It spins a haunting tale that is mirrored by its deep and distant-sounding guitars and emotive singing. The crowd knew which song was saved for the pinnacle of the night, and with a tease of “Are you ready?” the crowd would respond by willfully handing over the last drains of dance they had to the three men who earned it. After the final notes had faded out, the audience erupted in the universal language of applause. With a farewell message of, “Thank you we are Molchat Doma band from Minsk,” the three would send out setlists and guitar pics before exiting the stage fist-bumping their stagehands. A job well done.
Translated to “Houses Are Silent” Molchat Doma creates anything but. They craft a unique experience from start to finish with dazzling light set-ups and energy that is just so hard to find. There are only so many combinations of words I can string together to compliment them further, but they truly deserve it. Molchat Doma is such a special band that is steamrolling a unique path through the goth post-punk new-wave scene, and they will only grow larger, so see them now while it's still intimate.
