Thundercat Blurs Funk and Fusion in Boston

At Boston’s Roadrunner, Thundercat delivered a show that felt less like a concert and more like a speed-run through the inside of his brain; vivid, funny, and sonically ferocious. Backed by a rhythm section that played with surgical precision and unfiltered abandon, the bassist and bandleader blurred funk, fusion, and anime-fueled psychedelia into something entirely his own. It was a masterclass in control disguised as chaos, and Boston was more than happy to be caught in the blast.

If you’ve ever wondered what ADHD hyper-focus sounds like, Thundercat’s show at Roadrunner might be an answer. From the opening moments, the set moved at a full-tilt Naruto run pace — a blur of sound and motion that never lost its precision. It was one of the biggest three-piece sounds I’ve heard, a jazz-fusion power-surge that hit like a sonic haymaker.

Armed with his six-string hollow-body, (a red sparkled, anime-inspired behemoth of an instrument) Thundercat and his band tore through grooves with surgical accuracy. Notes ricocheted across time signatures; the music didn’t just flirt with chaos, it seemed born from it, molded into something fluent and strangely natural, as if the band was speaking a language they’d invented and mastered long ago.

Behind them glowed the Cats’ Lair backdrop, a not-so-subtle homage to his cartoon namesake. Thundercat grinned at his bandmates like a Cheshire Cat between songs, sipping tea and dropping one-liners: “I fucking love Boston.” and, a beat later, “Nothing like getting punched in the eye by a girl from Boston.” The crowd ate it up.

Everything was loud; the outfits, the drum fills, the humor, the confidence. Thundercat’s falsetto voice floated above the low-end rumbles and whip-crack snares, buoyant and effortless, cutting through the sonic barrage.

About forty-five minutes in, the set hit “Lava Lamp,” and it felt like a cleansing breath, a well-rehearsed exhale after the opening sprint. The next tune eased the throttle again, giving space to stretch and settle before diving back into warp speed.

Later came crowd favorites: “Them Changes,” “Dragonball Durag,” and “A Fan’s Mail (Tron Song Suite II),” which took on a new bouncy, elastic feel. The crowd swayed and sang along, but the focus was always on the interplay. Thundercat’s sly looks across the stage, the band’s telepathic shifts, the sense that all three were improvising within an impossibly tight frame.

“How am I doing?” he asked at one point, pausing for a grin. “Best day ever, baby.”

It certainly felt that way. For an hour and a half, Thundercat turned Roadrunner into his own cartoon universe; loud, weird, joyful, and absolutely blistering. A sonic speed-run that never once tripped over itself, even as it pushed the limits of what a trio can do.

If you’re a fan of music that both crashes and cascades, that is visually bold and musically brilliant, this show hit on all cylinders. Thundercat and his band proved that three is more than a magic number, it’s a statement. 

Review & Photos By: Ryan Davey