The Cincinnati duo Lung delivered a mesmerizing and physically intense performance last night at the Platypus, transforming the small, crowded room into something that felt far bigger than the stage they occupied, while maintaining a personal, in-your-face show. Consisting of cellist/vocalist Kate Wakefield and drummer Daisy Caplan, the band produces a sound that seems impossible for only two musicians: dark, driving, cinematic, symphonic, saturated, and constantly on the verge of exploding.
Before beginning the show, Wakefield kicked off her pink tennis shoes, possibly to better activate her foot pedals and effects, as well as to connect with the stage beneath her.
From the moment they launched into their opening song (“Pisces D”), Lung made it clear that this would not be a polite chamber-rock recital or indulgent, stuffy affair. Wakefield attacked her electric, reflective cello with a mixture of classical precision (she is classically trained) and punk ferocity, bowing aggressively while running her instrument and vocals through layers of distortion, loops, and effects. The result was a wall of sound that shifted from eerie, droning atmospheres to massive, riff-like lines resembling a distorted guitar, engaging the mind and body.
Behind her, the curly-haired, bespectacled drum machine, Daisy Caplan, played with relentless energy, pounding out rhythms that pushed the songs forward with both power and nuance. Caplan’s drumming had the feel of post-punk and industrial rock—tight, heavy, and hypnotic—but Caplan also knew when to pull back and create space for the cello’s swirling textures. The chemistry between the two musicians was obvious. They watched each other closely, building tension and releasing it in perfectly timed bursts. All marveled at the amount of sound generated by two talented musicians and alchemists.
Many of the diverse LGBTQ fans sported Lung T-shirts, and it was obvious that they had come to The Mangrove to witness this singular live experience and community of fellow travelers. Everything was fluid and as it should be–no boundaries on stage, or in the audience.
Much of Lung’s music exists in a space between genres. The band debuted and tested. At times, their songs felt like dark art-rock, full of dramatic crescendos and cinematic moods. At other moments, the band leaned into a heavy, almost metal-like groove, with distorted cello riffs grinding over thunderous drums.
Then suddenly everything would drop into an atmospheric passage that felt more like experimental film music than rock. The closest musical precedents for this band might be Rasputina, Dimanda Galas, or a more classically oriented Morphine. New tracks like the tentatively-titled “Pogo” or “Blood Sugar” featured odd operatic vocal breaks, droning, thick stabs of cello, and circular drumming and triggers.
Wakefield thanked the audience for coming out to see them, and she explained that the night’s set list would consist entirely of new songs they are planning to record next month in LA at Suplex Studio with producer Manny Nieto (Breeders, Circle Jerks, and Los Lobos).
What makes Lung particularly compelling live is the physicality of the performance and the visual simplicity of two musicians on a large stage. Wakefield moves constantly, rocking back and forth as she bows furious passages or leaning into the microphone to deliver vocals that are both haunting and defiant. Her voice carries a dramatic intensity that fits perfectly with the music’s dark tone—sometimes sounding ghostly and ethereal, other times sharp and confrontational. She smiled, grimaced, furrowed her brow, and reflected the crowd’s energy not just in her harsh, physical bowing but also in her operatic wailing vocals and gestures.
Caplan, meanwhile, played with a fierce focus that drove the entire set. Caplan’s drumming is muscular but never sloppy, locking into grooves that keep the songs grounded even when the cello spirals into layers of noise and melody. Caplan also knows when not to play and how to create space for the music to breathe and evolve.
The small venue amplified the intensity of the show. With the crowd packed close to the stage, every scrape of the bow and crash of the cymbals felt immediate and visceral. At several points, the music swelled into towering climaxes that filled the room with a huge, vibrating sound, surprising anyone unfamiliar with how massive this two-piece band can be.
By the end of the set, Lung had built the kind of hypnotic momentum that left the audience both stunned and energized. The final song arrived in a slow burn, beginning with a tense drone before erupting into one last thunderous surge of distorted cello and pounding drums. As the last notes reverberated, the audience stood in rapt attention, reflecting on what they had just witnessed. Lung did brisk business at the merch table, selling their CDs, awesome T-shirts, and buttons, and they took time to speak with fans, sign autographs, and pose for photos.
In a musical landscape filled with predictable indie rock lineups, Lung stands out as something genuinely unique. Their ability to combine classical instrumentation, experimental textures, and heavy rock dynamics makes for a live show that is both intense and strangely beautiful. Last night’s performance proved that two musicians, when they are this creative and committed, can sound like an entire mad orchestra.
