It’s 6:45 p.m. on a hot and sunny evening in Lake Buena Vista. A very stylish line wraps around the block leading up to the House of Blues: young children and their unsuspecting parents, angsty teenagers, older metalheads, young adults and, of course, the gays for a sold-out show at the Disney Springs venue.
They were all gathered for one reason: Poppy.
Once an internet cult leader and now a cult classic, Poppy is a Grammy-nominated musician and multimedia artist. She is known for an artistic persona that showcases a Bowie-esque flair for constant reinvention through her sound and vision, melding synthetic bubblegum-pop, clanging industrial metal, hardcore and anything else she feels like throwing in the mix. Poppy refers to herself as “post-genre” and works diligently at pushing the boundaries of what it means to be a musician in the modern age.
When the cross-bearing doors of the House of Blues finally open, the faithful hurriedly funnel into their chosen place of worship for the evening. The venue quickly begins to feel hot and muggy as human bodies cluster and crowd in like sardines in a can. The energy is buzzing as the audience waits in eager anticipation for their queen to grace the stage. But first, Los Angeles band House of Protection warms up the crowd.
A firebrand duo of a drummer and vocalist/guitarist, House of Protection present a barrage of backflips, guitar tricks and nasty nu-metal. The frontperson mingles within the crowd during their set, riling up a starving crowd hungry for a mosh. Though worthy performers, they were the appetizer — and like any well-portioned appetizer, just as quickly as their set began, it was over.
Projections flicker on the backdrop behind the stage, and a five-minute countdown begins.
Once the cloying countdown ends, eardrum-rattling cheers erupt from the crowd when Poppy’s band takes the stage, followed by the post-genre diva herself. Immediately, the audience begins to boil over as she opens her set with “Have You Had Enough?” off her newest album, Negative Spaces.
Bodies bounce off bodies like atoms in time to the galloping drums, and Poppy — a seasoned frontperson — surgically splits these metaphorical atoms with her cutting vocals, facilitating a nuclear explosion of collective energy.
Soon enough, a pit — yes, a pit — forms and everyone up front has no choice but to slam into friends and strangers alike along to the chugging guitar, overloaded synthesizers and booming drums.
This hourlong set was not for the faint of heart. In fact, several people did faint — but for those who were willing to brave it, they were rewarded with one of the most impeccable live shows in recent memory.
Related
Poppy brings her ‘They’re All Around Us’ tour to Orlando for command performance this weekend
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This article appears in Apr 16-22, 2025.