Telescreens walked onto a room that was curious more than excited. Most of the pit seemed to not know who they were, but it didn’t take long for that to stop mattering. Song by song, they pushed the energy level up a notch, loud, emotional, and restless in a way that made it hard to stand still.
That gradual climb peaked with “Johnny,” which felt like the set’s true climax: a long, tense slow build that stretched the room tight before finally snapping into a primal release, pulling even the unfamiliar listeners fully in.
They moved constantly, the lead singer, Jackson Hamm, pacing the front of the stage and leaning into the crowd, turning simple clap-along and shout-back moments into easy entry points for people hearing these songs for the first time. Even without the lyrics memorized, the set was built so you always knew what you were supposed to do: jump, clap, yell a line, or just let the band’s momentum carry you.
What stood out was how quickly they earned the crowd’s trust. You could hear people around the pit admitting they’d never listened to Telescreens before, but by the middle of the set they were clapping on cue and picking up chorus hooks on the fly. The band’s raw, slightly chaotic energy warmed the room in a very practical way: by the end of their time on stage, the pit felt loose, awake, and ready for whatever came next.
Where Telescreens were all outward energy, Sir Chloe’s set felt more controlled and internal. When Dana Foote walked out, you could feel the difference immediately, and the shift wasn’t in the lights or the volume; it was in the way people reacted. A majority of the crowd already knew these songs, you could hear it as soon as she started to sing.
Foote’s voice is deep, calm, and a little eerie in person, a tone that can make even the noisiest song feel close and direct. The set leaned into that contrast. The more melancholic tracks had her standing relatively still, letting long phrases do most of the work, while the louder, more punk-leaning songs gave her room to push harder and sharpen her delivery without losing that low, grounded feel.
She spent much of the show walking back and forth across the stage, steady and focused, checking in with the crowd as she went. During “Animal,” that pacing turned into a deliberate and haunting strut, like she was testing the edges of the stage, matching the song’s tension as it built. It wasn’t showy, just confident and precise, and it fit the music.
The crowd was on her side from the start. People around the room were singing along to full verses, not just the choruses, and the louder moments felt less like a band performing at people and more like a room of fans helping push the songs over the top. Between tracks, Foote kept the banter minimal but genuine, short comments, a few smiles, and quick interactions with fans at the front that made the room feel smaller than it was.
“Michelle” was saved for the encore. As soon as she came back out and hit the first line, the vibe shifted again. There wasn’t a gradual ramp-up; everyone jumped straight into full chorus mode. The verses were loud, but the choruses were something else entirely, a wall of voices on every “Michelle, Michelle,” strong enough that it felt like the crowd and the band were holding the song together equally.
Review & photos – Rei Kong
