Jukebox the Ghost —The Newport Music Hall, Columbus, OH
At Newport Music Hall on October 15, the trio Jukebox the Ghost delivered a performance that balanced precision with play, intellect with exuberance. “The Phantasmagorical Tour” lived up to its name not through gimmickry but through imagination: a vivid reminder that sincerity, musicianship, and humor can still coexist in modern pop.
Their set began with “Stranger,” a song that unfolded like an overture—Ben Thornewill’s piano both anchor and accelerant, his voice cutting clean through the hall’s antique reverb. “The Stars” and “Colorful” followed in quick succession, each melody crafted with the kind of care that makes their live show feel like architecture in motion. The sound was bright, but the delivery never tipped into gloss. Every note served intention over affectation.
The set’s early stretch—“Sea Change,” “Flash!,” “Emotional Fraud,” and “Everybody’s Lonely”—revealed the band’s core tension: songs that sparkle on the surface but carry an undercurrent of existential wit. Thornewill’s lyrics draw humor from self-awareness rather than irony, finding levity in honesty. “Everybody’s Lonely” in particular played like an anthem for the quietly overwhelmed, its chorus less a lament than an embrace.
Midway through, the trio staged their signature switch-up for “Hold It In ‘Supreme’.” With Thornewill on drums, Tommy Siegel on piano, and Jesse Kristin on guitar, the moment bordered on chaos—but a practiced, joyful chaos. It spoke to a deep creative trust: three musicians capable of dismantling their own order just to rebuild it in real time, only taking the art of entertaining seriously.
The show’s middle section—“Ramona,” “Girl,” “Jumpstarted,” “Fred Astaire,” and “Hollywood”—was pure kinetic release. Each song arrived with crisp momentum, the band treating melody not as a vehicle for nostalgia but as a live, restless thing. Their command of dynamics—pushing tension, pulling rhythm, then letting it all snap loose—kept the set breathing like a single extended movement.
Their cover of Chappell Roan’s “Pink Pony Club” was a standout, and not merely for novelty. They approached it with warmth and theatrical grace, reframing Roan’s modern glam into something that felt communal. It was less pastiche than translation—a meeting of sensibilities across genre and generation.
They closed the main set with “End of the Show,” a title that always feels a little tongue-in-cheek but lands here as genuine gratitude. The encore—“Olivia,” “Adulthood,” and “Victoria”—felt like an extended coda: wistful, effervescent, and fully earned.
There’s a kind of intelligence in Jukebox the Ghost’s music that doesn’t announce itself—it reveals itself slowly, through craft, humor, and an almost architectural sense of melody. Their live show refines that intelligence into joy.
At Newport, the band played as though recognition were beside the point. They know who they are: writers of intricate pop songs that still invite you to sing along, musicians disciplined enough to sound effortless, performers unafraid to be earnest in an age allergic to it.
Underrated? Certainly. But maybe that’s the wrong word. Jukebox the Ghost aren’t waiting for the world to catch up—they’re too busy making it sound better.
Harry Acosta is a professional photographer who started out shooting concerts. He is an avid concertgoer and loves to capture his favorite musicians and unseen moments we take for granted in everyday life.
