First Life: Quadeca at Citizens House of Blues 10/23
Design by Diego Gonzalez, Photography by Liam Reader
By Francis Mertes
The night of October 23rd is an auspicious one. Boston feels alive with a distinctive fall air and the leaves are turning. Liam and I make our way from the T stop to stand in the line outside Citizens House of Blues. Already, it’s spreading down the block, populated by 20-somethings clad in knit caps and wide-legged jeans. It’s a younger crowd, Berklee students and other college-age music nerds, vibrating with an undeniable excitement. We wait and watch the line grow until it extends around the corner and over the bridge. This night marks my first time showing up with a press pass stuck to my shirt and a responsibility to translate the sonic to text on my shoulders.
Citizens House of Blues is a wide, high ceilinged space. Two balcony layers supported by red pillars float above a huge open floor. It feels like an industrial ballroom. The walls are lined with bright patterned artworks. Everything is warm in color and smooth to the touch. The crowd sorts itself, filing in and huddling up at the barricade, as close as they can get. As Liam tracks down anyone with a walkie talkie who can hook him up with a solid camera angle, I settle in on the sidelines where I can see the stage. It’s raised above the rest of the room, hazy and washed in blue and red light.
Oleka is first to appear. The (eclectic) pre-show playlist cuts out and there she is. She steps up to the mic, settles in with the band, and gets straight to it. They kick in with “Meta Cognition,” the opening track of her (at the time of performing) week-old record, Human Error. Oleka’s voice is hypnotic. It carries out into the space, sweeping across the floor, rising up and reaching for the balcony, luring the audience into her world. She confesses, when they wrap up the song, that she’s got a bit of a sore throat. She sounds no worse for it. Bathed in purple and accompanied by Quadeca’s band, she seems to transcend the space, opening up the ceiling to a sky full of stars.
Where Oleka chills the audience, Derby has no trouble warming us back up. He comes out cheering, hands in the air like he already knows the night will be triumphant. He walks the edge of the stage, dynamic and charismatic with pitched-up, processed vocals. I can’t catch a word he sings, but it’s no big deal. Influenced by Frank Ocean, drawing on hyperpop, his set is bright and free, dancey and engaging; he feeds off the energy of the room and sets us up for what’s to come.
Quadeca enters to tremendous applause. The crowd’s been prepped. He sits down at a double keyboard set-up on a raised platform in the middle of the stage, surrounded by his band, backlit by a giant LED-lined fabric panel. He jumps right into the first and titular track of Life 1, effortlessly cool, like he doesn’t even have to think about it. Up on stage, Quadeca is the epitome of chill. Right off the bat, though he doesn’t take the time for an initial greeting, he feels grounded and present in the room.
Quadeca released his fifth studio album, Life 1, on October 1st, to a devoted fan base. I wasn’t well acquainted with his music before my first listen, but that was all it took to get me hooked. The record is playful, funny, imaginative, I could go on and on. Though it’s not so highly conceptual as Vanisher, Horizon Scraper or I Didn’t Mean To Haunt You (2026), there’s no lack of knowledge nor skill nor passion. It’s introspective and tender just as much as it’s amusing. Every song, no matter the tone, is layered, built from interlocking rhythms and audial fragments. He acts as a sonic architect, constructing skyscrapers with every track.
From the high-spirited opening tracks of Life 1, he launches into “DUSTCUTTER” of SCRAPYARD (2024). There’s a palpable shift in sound. This one is heavy, rich in production, touching on something darker, and there’s not a silent voice or unmoving head in the audience when he gets up from his seat and delivers the chorus, pacing the stage, punctuating each word with a jab at the air. The crowd reaches out, mirroring his motions. Quadeca finds a moment afterwards to address the audience with a “Boston! How’s it going!” before returning us to the twinkly, off kilter planet of Life 1.
He walks us through almost the entire album over the course of the show, interspersed with past hits, laying us down, picking us back up. Nothing feels out of place. On “GODSTAINED” of Vanisher, Horizon Scraper, he calls Oleka out on stage in his “first aura move” of the evening. She kills on the flute as Quadeca dances with the guitarist and welcomes the crowd into the groove. He introduces the band with “wizard of life” Fahem Erfan on bass and guitar, “backbone” Maya Stepansky on drums, and “man of mystery” Johnny Hall on triple piano. Their performances are masterful.
The second half of the set slows things down. Quadeca eases us into a softer register with “Baby steps” and “Good grief.” We’re lulled to what feels like the closing of the evening as he finishes off the set with Life 1’s final tune, “In another life…” He gets up with a quick word of thanks, leaving the speechless, but only for a beat before a chant of “One more!” follows him offstage. The incantation dies out and then picks back up, and he reappears with the band to execute what might be my highlight of the night. I hadn’t heard anything off of I Didn’t Mean To Haunt You before the moment he plucked the microphone from the stand. “born yesterday,” performed with strobing stagelights and an easy confidence, blew me away.
There’s an authenticity, a willingness to bare the soul, embodied by Quadeca, his band, the artists opening. It’s a serious skill to hold a room the size of Citizens House of Blues, and none of them seem to have any trouble. For a show so expansive and versatile to feel so intimate, especially with a larger crowd, is no mean feat. This tour has a lot to offer, and dates across North America through the end of the month.
