The Orion Amphitheatre transformed into a celestial portal as Coheed and Cambria, co-headlining with Mastodon, brought The Infinite Arc Tour to full fruition. Riding the wave of their latest LP, The Father of Make Believe, Coheed and Cambria took the stage not merely as a band, but as mythmakers, architects of a sweeping sonic narrative tethered tightly to their ever-evolving graphic novel universe. With Mastodon laying down a thunderous, prog-sludge foundation earlier in the evening, it was Coheed’s turn to ascend — and ascend they did, through storytelling, sound, and visual pageantry.
The band opened not with bombast, but with serenity. “Yesterday’s Lost,” a new composition from The Father of Make Believe, began in a hushed, reverent tone, featuring only Claudio Sanchez and Travis Stever on stage. Their interwoven guitars and vocal harmonies drifted gently over the crowd like stardust. It was not long before Josh Eppard and Zach Cooper joined the performance, subtly morphing the song’s acoustic simplicity into a fuller, atmospheric arrangement. This chilled intro allowed the audience to acclimate to the evening’s emotional scope before being catapulted into that signature cosmic chaos.
A key visual element of the performance was the intricately designed stage setup. Eppard and his drum kit sat elevated on a raised mini-stage, granting him both visibility and symbolic prominence as the heartbeat of the band. To either side were mini-risers from which Sanchez would leap or perch, like a cosmic bard surveying his mythic domain. Behind them, a massive digital screen ebbed and flowed with space-like visuals — nebulae, comets, and arcane glyphs — synced seamlessly with the themes of each track. It was not mere backdrop, but narrative reinforcement, binding the live music to The Amory Wars, the sprawling science-fiction saga that informs Coheed and their unique discography.
Each member brought something distinct to the performance, yet all operated in tightly-knit synergy. Josh Eppard, in particular, delivered a performance of raw catharsis. His drumming was unrelenting — both technical and wildly emotive. One could sense his soul erupting through each tom hit and cymbal crash; it was as though he played with no distinction between flesh and rhythm. Zach Cooper grounded the set with brooding bass lines that gave gravity to Claudio’s higher-register vocals and Travis Stever’s searing leads. The latter, ever the crowd-pleaser, offered a bit of local fanfare, letting out a spirited “Roll Tide!” midway through the set to the crowd’s delight, acknowledging the state’s beloved Crimson Tide football team.
Claudio Sanchez, whose enigmatic presence has long captivated fans, appeared slightly more gaunt than in past tours. His signature mane of curls veiled his face for much of the performance, lending him the aura of a spectral storyteller half-shrouded in mystery. But when the music demanded intensity, Sanchez transformed — jerking side to side in fits of electrified motion, flinging his hair in orbit-like spirals, and delivering vocal acrobatics with unflinching passion. His dynamics — quiet reverie followed by sudden convulsions of energy — acted as a living metaphor for the volatility and grandeur of the universe his lyrics describe.
Midway through the set, the band launched into “Blind Side Sonny,” one of the more theatrical pieces from The Father of Make Believe. As the opening chords built into frenetic riffs, a towering inflatable figure emerged at the back of the stage — easily twenty+ feet tall. It was the character Sonny from the novel, armored in a spiked helmet and jagged leather jacket, his grotesque silhouette backlit to maximal effect. This moment served as a tangible bridge between the literary and musical worlds Coheed straddles, reminding the audience that this band’s universe is not merely conceptual, but manifest.
The energy intensified as the night progressed, peaking during the thunderous delivery of “In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth: 3.” Here, the audience became a choir, joining in on the song’s now-iconic “oohhs” during the closing-chorus build. The collective voice of thousands crescendoed with the band, shaking the concrete bones of the gorgeous host venue. Several mosh pits opened and collided in rhythmic chaos during the track’s climax, as fans surrendered entirely to the band’s emotive propulsion. It was anthemic, euphoric, and fully communal — one of those rare concert moments where performer and audience exist in a singular, uplifted state.
After a brief reprieve, the band returned for an encore that displayed their range and dramaturgy. They began with the restrained and emotionally wrought “Corner My Confidence,” allowing listeners to catch their breath and reflect. It was a delicate song, nuanced and unassuming, acting as a temporary hearthfire before the storm resumed. That storm took form in the defiant “Play the Poet,” which reignited the arena with fierce riffs and kinetic drumming. Finally, as if on cue from the gods of progressive rock, the unmistakable arpeggios of “Welcome Home” signaled the final descent. Claudio emerged once more, now wielding his legendary double-neck Gibson SG. What followed was a masterclass in guitar showmanship, with Sanchez executing labyrinthine solos and majestic bends, ending the night in a blaze of technical glory.
To understand what sets Coheed and Cambria apart is to understand their refusal to compartmentalize their art. They do not merely play songs — they build galaxies. Their integration of progressive rock structures, post-hardcore energy, and graphic novel storytelling places them in a unique echelon within modern music. While other bands use visuals to embellish, Coheed uses them to expand the lore. While others write lyrics, Coheed pens epics. And unlike most, they invite their fans not only to listen, but to live within the story.
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LoudSound Magazine 
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