When you hear the name Umphrey’s McGee, you might picture something along the lines of a jug band or maybe a revival act. But once you see them, you know how far off (and far out) that really is.

Like most jam bands, Umphrey’s McGee opens and closes their show. Which meant that when we walked in, we were able to take stock of their stage configuration immediately. It was fairly straightforward: percussion x2, a keyboard cube, and the three main guitars.

Jonathan had seen UM once before, at an outdoor venue in Baltimore (Pier 6 Pavilion), but it was my first time seeing them at all. I’d heard many good things about their career (which is almost exactly as old as I am), and have come across a video on social media here and there (primarily dead covers but most recently a cover of Paul Simon’s ‘You Can Call Me Al’ at their Port Chester show earlier this month). This simply meant that I had no expectations going in, and boy was I glad for it.

I decided to take the show from the wing of the balcony this time around. For most of our shows at the 9:30 club, I linger towards the back of the first floor, taking it all in and trying to stay out of the way of a fan’s experience. I wanted a different vantage point, to continue to immerse myself in IMP’s legendary mid-size venue. Overhearing conversations around me, folks were buzzing from their performance the night prior. It isn’t too crowded tonight, but they’ve certainly filled up the room, a solid feat for a dreary, grey, and wet Sunday night in DC. I’m taking stock of the crowd, who are a very blended mix of Baby Boomers, Gen X, and Millennials. I spot the occasional Gen Z-looking jamhead in the crowd, but for the most part, the crowd was 30 and above from my read.

The first player to take the stage is one of the most prominent figures throughout the show, and one that I couldn’t help but be overcome by: the lights.

We’re thrown into darkness, and then suddenly consumed by deep tones of red all around us. A loud note rings and is held, reeling the room in and letting folks know it’s time.

There’s a physical feeling of rising up from Hell, in the best possible way. The thick bass from the dueling percussionists meet each other in consonance, and together they are so strong I feel the ground shake on the balcony. As the synth and the guitars rise, so do we. I look down at my feet and I can almost see a space between them and the floor.

Suddenly, we must be close to heaven on our ascent because we’re met with a dance of rainbow lights as each musician’s instrument floats their way back down to the ground and arrive at a delicious, funky groove.

I can’t even seem to pay attention to the lyrics about eating chicken and drinking 40s because I’m so mesmerized by the lights. They almost seem sentient, perfectly timed for the band, and the exact color tone you’d expect to accompany the music you’re hearing, like a brief experience of synesthesia. Red and blue spotlights intersect to form sheets of purple that spread across the venue like walls. In between, flashes of orange and white, that you’d miss if you blinked, create an even further sense of depth that makes you feel like you’re inside a chamber of light.

The room is moving, grooving, and all sorts of boogying right now. A man with his sweater around his waist and a bandana around his head cannot contain himself. He does not pause his natural groove for even a second. His shoulders act as a hinge for his arms as levers, his fists bundled like a knob - Umphrey’s McGee has literally turned this man into a dancing machine. In stark contrast, UM’s lead Brendan Bayliss’s posture and body language can only be described as stoic. He’s locked in the rhythm and is like a statue with nothing moving but his fingers along the fret board like Olympians jumping hurdles.

From the corner of my eye, I see hands go up and morph into a shape. Two younger guys are contorting their fingers from the ‘sign of the horns’ to a ‘U’ and an ‘M’. This seems appropriate for the fusion of funk, rock, and metal being put on display here tonight.

As they jam, I return to my initial observation when I walked into the 9:30 club: the stage configuration. Now with musicians on it, this setup makes even more sense with the way UM is playing. There doesn’t seem to be an attempt to stand out through the entirety of these songs; it’s just a luscious fusion of sounds. The output of each instrument is emulsified with each other to form a single sound of righteousness. The stage configuration seems to lend itself to that: two rows, three columns. The musicians in the back are lifted on a mini stage of their own and have these light bars that glow in such a way that it seems like they’re levitating. The symmetry is striking; each musician in the back has an accompanying guitar in front of it, but because they are lifted, it seems less like they’re in front of one another and instead floating together.

Between songs, Brendan whispers “we love you too” and is met with thunderous applause, hoots, and hollers— just prolific joy from the fans they’ve brought along on this journey. In true Jam Band fashion, I think only about 15% or less of the show thus far has had lyrics, giving the space for the jams and the musicianship that guides them to truly shine. We go from intergalactic melodies to themes of deep intrigue and mystery. We flow from rock to funk effortlessly, and it’s during this conversion that I realize that Scotty Zwang, UM’s recent recruit on drums, is wearing a DARE shirt— ironic, yes, but in a way that’s perfectly appropriate for the tunes and the times.

Guitarists Jake Cinninger and Brendan Bayliss trade solos and accompany each other perfectly. With one striking a simple chord and letting it ride to fill our minds with intrigue, the other expands on the mystery, moving through frets to scratch the strings which, from the looks of the crowd, hits just the right spot for everyone in the room.

The lights have since calmed down from their original liveliness, but don’t let that make you think they played any less of a role. Their movements are calmer, but more indulgent. Gently expanding and contracting as the jams unfold, a soft touch for a prominent part.

I’m now at the third-level balcony staring down the center at the pit. Its movement reminds me of alphabet soup - although jumbled, the pasta shapes float and noodle around in the bowl aimlessly, each with their own sense of purpose, until they connect and spell out something meaningful.

Back on the left wing is a woman that is stealing the show. She’s dressed in a glittering blue sequined top, and is standing in just the right place that a spotlight above flows gold around her. The crowd surrounding her has a blue hue similar to her top, serving as her backdrop as she moves in a completely unique way to each and every song that somehow fits each one perfectly. I look back at her every once in a while throughout the show, and never saw her stop moving.

We find ourselves in a progressive metal explosion, finding this intersection between electronic, metal, rock, funk, jazz - it’s unlike anything I’ve witnessed live before and the lights are right on cue to do exactly what they’re supposed to. Shifting from sheets to pinpoint lasers in every color. Each band member is illuminated in rainbows as individual lasers submerge them - changing colors with every stroke of the hi-hat, while they submerge us in this galactic rock ballad that somehow keeps climbing. It’s like the intensity and rock of metal music, with the melodic bursts of EDM, I can’t comprehend how they continue to climb up in the way that they do.

Umphrey’s McGee changed how we see the 9:30 Club. They immersed us in their performance from every dimension. The roars from the crowd were the loudest we’ve ever heard at a show there, even though it wasn’t the largest crowd we’d seen. As the second of a two-night run, I’m aghast at how these fans continue through the night to have the energy to groove this much and rock this hard. UM took DC’s cold, wet, and frankly gross Sunday and turned it into a colorful paradise with their righteous sound ringing all the way through the district.

Where Metal Meets the Rainbow: Umphrey’s McGee & 9:30 Club’s Technicolor Dimension

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Where Metal Meets the Rainbow: Umphrey’s McGee & 9:30 Club’s Technicolor Dimension

A Tropical Escape in Snowcrete DC

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