1972 brought us triumph and tragedy. From Watergate to the last Apollo mission, the world was changing—and in Grand Rapids, a new music venue emerged: The Intersection. This wonderful venue is actually five separate spaces in one, from the diminutive Mint (capacity 200) to the Showroom, the largest indoor room, which holds 1,500. Some of the world’s best artists have performed at The Intersection over the last 50 years, and tonight it will witness one of America’s favorite vibe bands, Sound Tribe Sector 9—better known as STS9.
The Showroom is dark—much darker than usual—as guests enter. A feeling of detachment is palpable as the entire space sits in monochromatic black, lit only by sparse colored lights. This melancholy setting is intentional: STS9 performs backlit; the performers are rarely seen; the music is all-enveloping. As the musicians take the stage, they appear not as individual personalities but as a single living entity.
The music begins, and the crowd erupts. A simple loop opens the performance as each member adds to the sonic presence. Alana Rocklin adds her distinctive bass—more felt than heard. It courses through the room and penetrates to your core. Percussion becomes apparent as Zach Velmer and Jeffrey Lerner punctuate the ever-building texture.
Hunter Brown, guitar slung around his neck, works a large keyboard, tickling the senses with varied sounds. The listener is less hearing and more perceiving as sonorous waves break over the fans. David Phipps, the indispensable keyboardist, has seemingly materialized, adding his own textures. In the space of a heartbeat, the sound climbs to a soaring summit as the techno-funk-jazz riffs of “March” fill the room.
STS9 is more than the musicians; a phalanx of crew supports the band and keeps them at the top of their game. One of the most overlooked of these is the lighting engineer. I had the opportunity to speak with one of these gifted artists, Eric.
The light show is perhaps the most important factor when STS9 performs, providing the visual focus of the experience. The band stays backlit to emphasize total immersion. But humans are visual, and when the musicians are obscured, the mind seeks “the light,” which Eric helps provide. The challenges of crafting a visual show to fit venues ranging from small indoor auditoriums to large outdoor festivals are herculean. Each show must deliver the same immersive environment while living within a venue’s constraints. Add to this the will of the artists: once they prepare for the show, if a planned song doesn’t have the right vibe, they change it. For the lighting crew, this adds an additional stressor as they must quickly search lighting cues and presets to deliver the visuals fans have come to expect.
The music continues, seemingly without end. “You Don’t Say,” “Surge,” and “Soul Slap” each elicit their own moods as waves of feeling roll through the space. Songs and lights mesmerize the attendees. The band reaches “Walk the Sky,” one of my favorites, and I, too, am in the STS9 mindspace—calm, serene, and aware—enjoying being both part of the whole and yet singular.
If you have never experienced STS9 live, get to a show. Let the troubles that invade your solitude evaporate on waves of good vibes and beautiful lights.
