On Thursday, the frigid Denver winds clawed at the skin as The Japanese House fans formed a line that wrapped around the Summit Music Hall. It was a communal experience as would-be audience members huddled together for warmth, joking and eagerly awaiting the warmth that was emanating from the venue’s doors. Soon, everyone made it in and found their place on the dance floor, eyes wide and expectant as the show got going, bonds already formed between each other.
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Quinnie — the soft-voiced opener — graced the stage with songs featuring sweet vocal flares and beautiful harmonies. Her voice sounded like what you’d think a fairy might sing while dancing through some enchanted forest. She used a headset mic, similar to what boy bands like NSYNC use, which added to her whimsical vibe. She eventually played her most well-known song, “Touch Tank,” which the crowd seemed to know best from TikTok or something, whole-heartedly singing the viral chorus then falling silent during the verses like they’d gotten caught laughing too loud in a library. Beautiful song but odd behavior from the crowd. It was a little like a musical episode of Black Mirror, a strange micro-example of these technologically dominated times we find ourselves in. 
Following Quinnie’s set, a large white sheet dropped down to serve as the backdrop for the band setup. Lights flickered off the glittering drum shells and the large assortment of other instruments the filled the stage. Amber Bain — professionally known as The Japanese House — an English indie pop musician renowned for her synthy atmospheric pop and tender lyrics, was moments from taking the stage. Coming off her new record, “In The End It Always Does,” she’s embarked on a stripped-back and vulnerable tour across the US, featuring more live instrumentation than seen in her previous performances. Coral blue light filled the room and soft smoke created a tender mood. Eventually, the band emerged at a cool pace, taking their places at their instruments.
Bain, sporting a classic black leather jacket, white shirt and blue jeans, exuded effortless swagger — a young River Phoenix vibe. Think Stand By Me. She balanced artsy anonymity with heartfelt conviction, strapping on her guitar lefty a la Hendrix and picking out chords with her right hand. Opening with “Sad to Breathe,” an emotional pop anthem, the band’s clean execution and vocoder harmonies beneath Bain’s soft vocals created a buzzing atmosphere.
The band’s personable presence, akin to friends playing a house show, highlighted their comfort. Bain’s unique talent for writing groovy hooks with heart-wrenching lyrics was truly on display and she sounded just as impressive live as in the studio. The evening felt like an extended scene from a John Hughes movie, exuding a classic 80s vibe that resonated with the diverse audience.
The band played old classics like “Saw You in a Dream,” delivered with a haunting vocal performance that put the audience into a reflective trance. Bain spoke about her music connecting with a diverse crowd, giving a shout-out to the LGBTQIA+ community during “Boyhood.” A powerful moment of connection created a shared experience of love and loss with the audience. “Friends” turned into a disco celebration with lights flashing and smoke billowing out. Bain threw cheeky grins at the crowd, effortlessly transitioning from emotional moments to tracks that make you dance.
Closing the night with “Sunshine Baby,” a bittersweet summer anthem, The Japanese House left the crowd feeling like they’d just survived an emotional rollercoaster. Leading us through a myriad of memories and feelings, the music lingered in the air like the remnants of a beautiful dream, and as we stepped back into the brisk Denver night, the warmth of the performance stayed with us, a comforting ember in the dark.
All Photography Courtesy of Andrew Rios