As I trudged up W. Geer St. in Durham, NC toward the Chanel Beads show, I made a mental note to count how many people wore baggy jeans and hoodies. I arrived 30 minutes before the first act was scheduled to perform, and to my surprise, the half-empty venue held a varied crowd. People in cargo shorts and flip-flops stood alongside those sporting heavy black eyeliner and black platform combat boots, creating an unexpected mix of styles.

I first heard Chanel Beads in June when they released their second album, not to be mistaken for their first album with the same title, Your Day Will Come. Even days after my first listen, the sharp pangs of guitar and the violins' swift, cutting swipes continued to ring in my ears. I usually remember albums for their lyrics and melodies, not for individual sounds in isolation. I knew immediately this was a record I needed to hear live. I needed to see how their intricate, sometimes jarring production would translate to the stage.

Ten minutes before the show was set to start, a line had begun to form outside Motorco Music Hall, and the room quickly filled. I squeezed through a sea of six-foot-two men until I found a small opening, planting my feet firmly on the concrete floor. At eight o'clock, the first opener, Car Culture, walked onto the stage.

Daniel Fisher, who also performs as Physical Therapy, delivered a captivating performance. The NYC-based musician and producer played his bass with the strap hiked high, almost as if it were a guitar. Despite the stripped-down setup of bass, guitar, and a loop pedal for building drum patterns and layering sounds in real time, the performance sounded remarkably full. During the final song, the bass rattled the AC vents overhead.

Stockholm duo Horse Vision followed, with Johan Nilsson and Gabriel von Essen building their set around guitar, acoustic textures, and electronic elements. Their indie-pop melodies recalled The Radio Dept., lending the performance a moody, atmospheric quality. The crowd seemed more responsive to the duo, swaying and nodding along to the music. They closed with "Back of My Hand," which interpolates Lady Gaga's "Poker Face." And yes, their songs also rattled the AC vents overhead.

As Horse Vision left the stage, the audience dispersed like salmon migrating upstream, heading outside or toward the bar. The chatter grew louder, and many people filled the gaps in the audience with anticipation for the imminent art-poppers. A roar of cheering and applause followed their entrance onto the stage, and I fully expected the stage lights to reveal the musicians' faces, but instead was met simply with a wall of sound. Squinting and waiting to see some other lighting effect take place, I soon realized I would be watching their shadows for most of the show.

They opened with a song that seemed to incorporate a spoken word sample or backing vocal, establishing an ambient, unsettling tone for rest of the show. The sound almost felt like a prayer, carrying the kind of reverence associated with entering a church. Things felt calm on the surface, but something forceful lurked beneath, as if the music could erupt with the conviction of divine intervention at any moment. It felt less like watching a band perform, and more like witnessing something unfold.

One instrument in particular caught my eye: an electronic wind instrument frontman Shane Laver was playing, which was later identified as an Akai EWI 5000, or something near the likes of it. The instrument doubles as a MIDI controller, adding a rich texture to the mix that at times almost sounded like a bass. The band's live arrangements blurred the boundaries between familiar and uncharted sounds.

The next few songs seemed to be from their debut record; I was less familiar with them. Lavers brought explosive energy to the stage, with his high jumps and rowdy screams that reverberated through the speakers. Lavers and creative counterpart Maya McGrory delivered the same unadulterated emotions that define their studio vocals. Throughout the set, their voices blended so perfectly that they sounded like a singular sound. McGrory really shined during her song "Silver Cup." I only wished it lasted longer.

Violinist Zachary Paul maintained a steady and captivating presence amid the set's many moving parts, while touring drummer Hugo Stanley provided a necessary anchor. With vocals, guitar, electronic instrumentation, and strings weaving through the arrangements, the music could easily have become too dispersed. Instead, Stanley's drumming gave the sound a sense of direction, grounding its more ambient layers without sacrificing the band's expansiveness.

I found myself closing my eyes intermittently, because Chanel Beads make music that seems designed for people to feel it in their bones. My chest rattling, my feet vibrating, and the AC vents rattling proved to be strangely grounding. "Song for the Messenger," "Police Scanner," "Embarrassed Dog," "Silver Cup," and "Urn" stood out especially, but I was particularly drawn to "Tyler Richard." The track offered a welcome sonic break from the set's more overwhelming moments. By the end of the night, it was clear that Chanel Beads' music doesn't need to be fully understood to be felt.

It wasn't a show where everyone was singing along to every lyric or hysterically heckling the band for attention. Instead, people were content to share a space and experience the music in their own ways, together and apart. The varied crowd I'd noticed and grew to appreciate felt symbolic of the Brooklyn act's music. Their sound is varied and branches out into uncharted territory, reaching many people in an authentic, unpredictable, and yet grounded way.