The magic of Purity Ring's illusion machine, music at the 9:30 Club
- carsydog0
- Nov 3
- 2 min read
Updated: Nov 10
It's kinda hard to describe what happens at a Purity Ring show in the words of a mere mortal.
Before the duo even appeared, the stage already hummed with intent. Rows of spinning fans filled the stage at the edge, waiting to reveal their purpose. When the music began, the fans exploded with light like translucent portals intertwined between vocalist Megan James and multi-instrumentalist Corin Roddick.
Each fan blade carried LEDs that turned the air into an animated screen. Faces appeared, then windblown leaves, then scenes that looked straight out of a 16-bit dream. The effect was mesmerizing, a sort of living hallucination that changed with every note Roddick hit from his synth rig.
The show opened with “Part II,” followed by “Many Lives” and “Obedear.” From the start, the visuals built entire ecosystems around each song. “Pink Lightning” burst with jagged flashes that seemed alive, while “Glacier (In Memory of RS)” painted the stage in slow-moving white and blue. Every movement from Roddick’s command center sent waves of light rippling across the immersive display, translating rhythm into color.
Early in the night, James mentioned, “We’re going to play for like... a lot longer...” and she meant it. The set stretched past twenty songs, pulling from across their catalog: “Red the Sunrise,” “Push Pull,” “Repetition,” and “Lofticries” all appeared alongside newer tracks like “Soshy” and “ImanOcean.” The low-end during “Push Pull” hit so hard it rattled the air, paired with a swarm of purple pixels buzzing all around the room.
Purity Ring has always blurred the line between performance and installation art, but this tour pushes that balance further. The duo themselves became secondary to the spectacle, yet not diminished by it. At moments, they were silhouettes inside their own creation, and that felt intentional.
The show’s attention to detail was obsessive. Even before the music began, Purity Ring’s world-building started with the practical. Fans received KN95 masks and small zines titled What’s Up With COVID and How to Protect Yourself, plus a bonus pamphlet listing “Elliott’s Favorite Masks.” It was part humor, part sincerity, and perfectly in step with the band’s ethos: carefully constructed, a little strange, and deeply human.
As the final run of “Fineshrine,” “Place of My Own,” and “Begin Again” closed the night, the energy softened. When the house lights finally came up, the stage looked smaller. Flatter. Like the spell had been squeezed back into its bottle. But the illusion lingered. You could still feel the colors glowing behind your eyelids.
