The moment the Saurer brothers stepped on stage, it was full tilt. With their signature blend of electronic and hip-hop, the duo turned The Fillmore into a bass-heavy dreamscape.
They kept the energy unpredictable, alternating between the decks and letting Jeff rip into blistering guitar solos that sliced through the electronic thunder. Kevin fueled the crowd with wild front-stage antics, screaming lyrics, and at one moment was slinging water bottles like they were at a bass-drenched baptism.
They lit the place up with gritty, glitched-out, punk-leaning stuff that sounds like EDM got into a bar fight with a philosophy major. The crowd was living for it. Mosh pits. Chain reactions of hype. Tie-dye headbands flying through the air. One minute you’re sobbing to “Devil Eyes,” the next you’re losing your damn mind to “Pole Vaulting.” Their remix of “Stay High” dropped right when the crowd needed a breather, but even that turned into a massive scream-along.
Midway through the set, Kevin hopped right over the barricade and got lost in the crowd, instantly becoming part of the wild energy he’d been stirring all night. This was crowd immersion at it’s finest. Fans huddled around like he was the ringleader of this bass-fueled circus, and the vibe hit a new level of electric chaos. Posing for selfies and timeless moments with fans all while shouting lyrics and headbanging on bass drops.
The whole show felt like a trip through every emotion your nervous system could handle— rage, joy, reflection, straight-up bliss. Hippie Sabotage didn’t just throw a concert… they threw a fit in the best way possible.
Minneapolis showed up, lost it, and left soaked, hoarse, and absolutely glowing.
After the show, I got the chance to meet and chat with Kevin. For a guy who just spent the last hour and a half causing absolute chaos on stage, he couldn’t have been more grounded. Super chill, totally down to earth, and genuinely thankful for everyone who came out. It’s always refreshing when someone that explosive on stage turns out to be humble and human off of it. Just solid vibes all around. I will definitely see them again soon!
Carpetman Warps Time and Reality in a Soul-Drenched Fever Dream
You don’t watch Carpetman—you enter his world.
From the second he stepped onstage, wrapped in a rug mask like some kind of glitchy prophet, it was clear this wasn’t going to be your average “dude with a synth” set. Nah—this was theater, this was chaos, this was church for the emotionally unstable. And it ripped.
His presence alone is magnetic—part street preacher, part contortionist, part myth. He moves like he’s pulling sound from another dimension. Arms snapping, knees buckling, body bending like his bones are reacting to the bassline before the rest of him catches up. It’s unreal.
And then there’s the voice—my god, the voice. Rich and aching, layered with harmonies that feel both holy and haunted. One second you’re floating through a wall of choir-like soul, and the next you’re slammed into fractured synths and distorted bass. It’s beautiful turmoil, like Ray Charles got dragged through Ableton.
“Feel So Cold” hit so hard live—like a gut punch in slow motion. It’s vulnerable and gritty and somehow still a banger. The whole room went dead silent, not out of boredom, but reverence. You could feel people holding their breath.
Visually, it’s an acid trip in a VHS player. Broken projections, warped textures, shadows dancing on his carpet-covered face—it’s hypnotic. The guy’s not just making music. He’s building an entire vibe from scratch. A little eerie, a little sad, a little euphoric. All at once.
By the end, no one wanted to leave. People who came for the headliner were standing wide-eyed, phones down, like “…what the hell did we just witness?” And that’s the magic of Carpetman. He doesn’t just perform—he possesses the room.
This wasn’t a show. It was a spiritual data dump in the best possible way.
Carpetman is the future—and it’s fuzzy, glitchy, and absolutely electric.
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