Maps & Atlases, Bark Culture, Loadcard
Johnny Brenda’s
1201 Frankford Ave.
Philadelphia, PA
August 24, 2026
Shouts of “We missed you!” were lobbed more than once from the crowd during Maps & Atlases headlining set (by the same person, repeatedly? unclear!) and I could relate. To be fair, I’m not deeply familiar with the band: in my MP3-blog scouring years I came across their song “Pigeon,” from 2010, featuring indelible thrust and bounce, a gorgeous, fidgety central guitar riff and delicious major-key-bright melodies weaved together, the sound of a twitchy math-rock band gone peak-sun pop, its tricky and invigorating syncopated rhythms tethered to a perfectly-simple four-on-the-floor kick pattern. That was a watershed year for indie rock going pop – take a glance at Pitchfork’s 50 Best Albums of the Year, it marked a big shift – and while Maps & Atlases was vaguely familiar to me through my more emo- and math rock-leaning friends, I didn’t know they had songs so simply infectious in them. “Pigeon” never stopped being a golden tune in my book, perennial playlist fodder, and I was thrilled to sing along when they played it last night.
Anyone who’s been forecasting the death of live music for whatever (valid, concerning) reasons might have been heartened to see such a packed room on a Monday night at JB’s, catching a band that hasn’t released a new record in eight years, no less. But the feeling in the room was devotional, wistful, excitable. M&A are on tour opening for Anthony Green but managed to sneak in a headliner in Philly, and what a lovely treat: the band’s frenetic, technically-stunning, mathy indie rock sounded just about flawless. They haven’t lost a step: I was frequently stunned by their rhythmic command, both guitarists and the bassist often all delivering complex, interlocking two-hand-tapping riffs, sounding machine-like in their precision (often so fast and high on the neck that you could mistake the parts for double-speed pre-recorded loops). Tempo changes were handled as cleanly as if you were slowly turning a knob on a tape machine – all four musicians knew where it was and where it was going, every time. As much as I’ve always loved this kind of stuff – and Philly’s the kind of town that tends to go to bat for bands like Don Cab, Algernon, TTNG, all masters of the angular, emotive, and knotty – it was especially eye-opening, as someone not totally familiar with the deeper catalogue, to hear that for all their show-stopping moments and technical displays of musicianship, the band’s got hooky songs you can sink your teeth into, and an unrelentingly pro-social, handclaps-heavy rhythmic foundation. Through it all the band was in cheerful form, with frontman Dave Davison joking throughout about the JB’s stage’s tiny catwalk before finally utilizing it to the delight of all. I miss them again already.
