Kurt Vile and the Violators
Toad's Place
New Haven
July 20, 2025
As the streets of New Haven wavered in the July heat on Sunday, the air inside Toad’s Place was thick with anticipation. Grammy-nominated folk rocker Kurt Vile was set to take the stage.
Vile has collaborated with artists like Courtney Barnett, John Prine, and Kim Gordon to produce an extensive range of experimental, psychedelic hits. In the process, he’s garnered a true cult following. His band the Violators —pun intended — consists of Jesse Trbovich on guitar, Kyle Spence on drums, and Adam Langellotti on bass and keys. They have performed together since 2003, venturing to New Haven twice before Sunday’s show, most recently in 2022.
Bathed in fuzzy blue light, Pittsburgh-based indie rock musician Merce Lemon opened the show with a number of dreamy rock tunes, including “Neverrr Everrr” and “Foolish and Fast.” Against the backdrop of Kurt Vile and the Violators’ hand-drawn, intergalactic concert art, Lemon and her band — psychedelic in sound, rocking in rhythm — -proved a perfect, genre-bending prelude to the equally multidimensional Vile. The crowd, an eclectic mix of tattooed millennials, college kids, and laughing older couples, appeared cast into a trance.
Above the sea of heads at the foot of the Toad’s stage, all that was visible were swaying shoulders and drifting bodies.
Her set ended in as dream-like a state as it began; twinkling white lights, booming drums, starry keys, and her haunting voice intermingled in one brief, fleeting moment, then came crashing down. The crowd held its breath, waiting.
“Thank you,” she said.
Applause thundered from below.
Kurt Vile and the Violators took to the stage with little fanfare, but to thunderous excitement.
“Back to Moon Beach” — a warped, psychedelic meditation on cosmic creativity — kicked off the set. It was the perfect transition from the similarly otherworldly energy of Merce Lemon’s band. The crowd calmed instantly, swaying to the “recycled riffs” of Vile’s opening number.
As Vile played, he was not talkative nor smiley. His brown Converse tapped against his mic stand as he transitioned into his next song, “Hey Like a Child.” From where I stood, it seemed as though Vile’s guitar and him had a secret relationship, one that transcended both the crowd and venue. Vile’s music was from, and for, within.
Vile’s voice, with its rounded vowels and slight twang, is distinctive and haunting. Despite its unique flavor, though, it took the backseat to his synthetic, reverberating instrument during the show. The dreamiest — and most striking — moments of the set occurred when Vile’s characteristically repetitive guitar riffs echoed over the crowd.
He progressed through his set without many pauses or much commentary. His hair hung over his face, hiding his expression from my view. When I finally caught it, I saw that it was sheepish, reflective. His mouth was turned up in a slight, self-effacing grin. This disarming humility was the strongest display of emotion I was able to identify from him the entire show.
Yet no visible expressions were needed for the music — the vibrating, textured notes, the hypnotic thrum of the drums — to cut deep. Yes, I felt like I was on another planet, and I was being sung to from some buried, internal place. As Vile cued up “Girl Called Alex,” the air seemed to swell in that interiority. The crowd melted, and Vile’s guitar screamed.
The few times that Vile looked out at the crowd, it seemed as though he was only looking at you. The only thing that broke this trance was the constant shifting of his guitars themselves — from acoustic to electric to dreadnought, he swapped his instrument after virtually every song.
Against the backdrop of floating planets and KURT VILE written in scribbled, Mars-like font, though, Vile’s setlist proved to take his audience on an intergalactic, career-spanning journey. Fan favorites like “Pretty Pimpin’” and “Wakin’ On A Pretty Day” mingled with lesser-known ballads like “Cool Water” and some sneak-peeks at Vile’s upcoming album, set to release on July 25.
Notably, Vile and his band did not shy away from the daunting length of songs like “Wakin’ on a Pretty Day,” which has a nine9-minute runtime; they played their songs in their entirety, giving them the space and attention on the stage that the crowd so craved.
Trbovich’s guitar and bass blended perfectly with Vile’s to make this journey possible. As the first notes rang out of “Mount Airy Hill” — an homage to Vile’s hometown of Philadelphia — Trbovitch came to life, closing his eyes and moving like water with the music — and with his instrument.
“‘Mount Airy Hill’ is probably one of my favorite songs to play,” Trbovich told me after the show. “I get to play bass on that, and it’s fun to get into a certain atmosphere if the crowd’s with us and if Kurt’s in a particular mood and see where it goes.”
As the show came to a close, Vile played a series of extended guitar solos that enraptured the crowd, leaving them unsure as to where he would go next. Behind him, red, orange, and yellow stage lights danced in harmony with the audience.
He, of course, stood still.
