And we’re back.

Life presents us with big mysteries. Questions like “How did the universe begin?” and “What happens after we die?” and “Where did my other sock go?” have plagued humanity for millennia. But the biggest question might be “What time will the first band go on.” At least that’s the one that I struggle with the most. The flyer said 7pm. The venue’s social media team told me 8pm. I should have averaged the two as when I walked up the stairs to Minibar at 7:44, the first band was in the middle of its set. The doorman told me the show started about 7:30.

Juliette Frost was the opener I was walking in on. She’s a local teen with her fingers in a variety of art and design projects. Like her sculpture, Frost’s music incorporates whatever catches her fancy. Genres as disparate as ambient and jungle are pasted alongside (and atop) each other creating an ethereal but danceable bliss pop. Her songs are short, and they move from one idea to the next quickly. A steady stream of demos-as-singles populate her Bandcamp and Soundcloud pages. Some of her ideas are brilliant, some don’t stick. She’s still figuring it out. To perform live she relies on pre-recorded tracks. In the forefront there are beats – some are complex constructions with breaks, others serve only a spectral metronome to guide the track’s swelling synths. Her live vocals are weaved into that mix alongside her own backing vocals. Sometimes it was hard to tell which vocals were the live ones, as both are often heavily processed and layered on top of each other. Curiously, the layers aren’t stacked cleanly to create blended voices or harmonies, instead they are all askew and unsettled. Sometimes they’re non-lexical vocalizations – paeans and howls that called to another plane. While it’s not fair to evoke the Cocteau Twins, nonetheless there were moments where Frost’s wordless vocals recalled Elizabeth Fraser. Frost skulked around the stage when singing. And often doubled over as her long hair kissed the floor. During instrumental moments she danced – sometimes on stage, sometimes off. There was lots of whirling and bouncing and lots of footwork under that long black witchy skirt. Miraculously, the audience danced along with her. Yes, an opener performing before 8pm had the room dancing. Frost has a future and we’d all be well-served to keep an eye on her as she seems like the sort that might not be in Kansas City very long.

The night moved quickly from one act to another. All three performers had their gear backlined, eliminating the carting of amps and instruments on and off stage, and bypassing the sorcery of microphone placement. The acts that followed only had to work with the house sound engineer to get the right level for their synths, and the proper proportions of delay and reverb for their vocals. Oh, and to cut the house lights entirely so that bands’ lights could set the desired scene.

Temptrix is a mystery and determined so stay that way. While I tried to contact the artist several times to verify details, I never received a reply. So, here’s a well-intentioned mix of facts, suppositions, and dubious falsehoods. While the four-year-old Houston project has its roots as a duo, Temptrix is now a solo endeavor. That’s probably for the best, as when Temptrix took the stage wearing shiny PVC highlighted by enormous conical shoulder pads and a skirt unzipped to her mid-thigh, there was no reason for the audience to look anywhere else. The room watched as Temptrix delivered their live vocals and danced and sashayed about the stage. Colored lights shone up front the floor, occasionally illuminating our performer, but generally only creating shadows for them to dance into. How they were able to see the synthesizer enough to bend and mutate tones live was a mystery. While their processed vocals haunted the band’s darkwave, under them sat programmed beats with big rumbling bass. The songs in their set occasionally leaned into the new wave of early Soft Cell, but more often recalled the pulsing DJ creations I heard in early ‘90s Chicago warehouses. The set started tentatively. Temptrix noted the first song was a sad one, but since the song was fast, we’d likely never know it. I suspect most of the songs are sad ones though – Temptrix seems to be about working through pain of one sort of another. As the set continued, everything began to click. The kittenish dancing of Temptrix was infectious and while the audience was small, it danced throughout. Digital single “For You” is available on the artist’s website, but I’ll argue it doesn’t quite represent the enthralling nature of Temptrix’s live set. Until other recordings surface, you’ll need to experience Temptrix live.

The night culminated with Raudiver also from Houston (or more precisely from Galveston Island). The project is named for the mysterious (if one squints) sounds captured on tape by Konstantin Raudive. Sounds that Raudive was convinced were communications from the dead. Maybe Raudiver’s dark wave seeks to walk that same conduit between this world and the next. The project is the effort of married duo Lauren and Charlie Eddy. Lauren provides the vocals and a few synths while her husband provides the rest. That could mean live percussion on one song, Omnichord or another, or most often, electric guitar. Backing tracks provide what the couple was not able to recreate live. Much of the band’s post-punk set was defined by pounding rhythms and keyboards with melodies that twisted around themselves. It’s a retro sound sure to please devotees of 4AD’s golden age. In the band’s noisiest moments there were hints of Jesus and Mary Chain. In its poppiest, Echo & the Bunnymen. Or maybe that is all conjecture. You see, the sound engineer could never get Lauren’s light voice high enough into the mix for it to impact the songs. I'll have to wait until the band's new single is released this summer to check my work. Until then, at least the band created plenty to look at. With only three floor lights and an abundance of fog, the band presented a marvelous, synchronized light show that pulsed, throbbed, and strobed throughout a short 30-minute set. Different colors set different moods as the ghostly players moved about the stage, and occasionally danced out into the club alongside its new fans.

Lauren didn’t say much during the set, but she did joke about a night earlier in this tour where the band played to an empty room. To my eyes the Minibar couldn’t have contained more than a dozen people as she spoke, yet she seemed elated with the contrast. Of course, a dozen people is better than none, and if it’s a dozen dancers engaged with your music, that’s better than a sea of bored patrons standing with crossed arms. I hoped Raudiver and Temptrix both were happy enough with Kansas City to make it a regular stop on their tours. If they do come through again, I’ll be there – just make sure to tell me when to show up next time.

UPDATE: I have just received a note from Ash Cantu of Temptrix who cleared up a few mysteries. Among other facts, I learned that Cantu uses they/them pronouns. While I didn't update the recap with everything I learned, I did correct my earlier mistaken misgendering and now offer my apologies.