The Magic of Sophia Stel Live

If you don’t already know the name, I suggest you memorize it now. Sophia Stel is the first artist signed to A24 Music, completely unaffiliated with any released film. Her most recent single, “Bitches Talk Shit,” was the first of her songs to be officially released under the label, along with an announcement that a full-length Sophia A24 album is in the near future. I, too, was confused until her Brooklyn show at Elsewhere last Friday night. Her sound, vibe, and audience are nothing short of cinematic and carry a profound energy that can only be encompassed audiovisually. Experiencing Sophia Stel’s music live revealed the soul behind it; the concert itself could’ve been an A24 film.

In the line leading into the venue, a girl offered a stranger a light. Another complained about her tights being too restricting to an inattentive friend who suggests she rips more holes in them. Another laughed, lifting her shirt to show off a presumably self-done stick-and-poke. Couples’ hands danced together in the pit while waiting for the opener.

It was then that I spotted model and friend of Sophia’s, Paloma Sandoval, who greeted the audience with a warm smile and a wave. After our initial awe, she began gushing about the opener, Christian Jason, who would later perform for the first time in New York. CJ, as she affectionately called him, was an up-and-coming Filipino R&B artist with a “Miguel, Frank Ocean sort of vibe.” Immediately as he approached the stage from behind, the shared energy between him, Sophia, and Paloma was evident. Clad in a camo hoodie, which he later shed to reveal an equally unassuming purple t-shirt, and saggy fade-washed jeans, Christian put on a charming opening performance that resulted in the addition of nearly the entire setlist into a playlist of mine. 

Any nervousness he may have felt exuded itself as charisma as he sang across the stage with a confidence still not quite adequate for the brilliance of his tracks. He played a number of his singles from an older-looking MacBook: “Never Vendetta,” “It’s Mine,” and “heels in the mud” were among those I found myself scrunching up my face in disbelief at my prior unfamiliarity. As he wandered offstage I felt a ripple in the crowd behind me, and I turned around to see Paloma and her friends swarming backstage followed by a distant collective screaming.  

In the half-hour between Christian and Sophia’s sets, the energy in the room ceased to die out. People circled in and out of the pit from the bar and poured in from the tunnels. The audience roared as the room darkened and the sounds of “I’m Not Alone” resonated from the speakers, though quickly shifting to the distinctive guitar chords of “Everyone Falls Asleep In Their Own Time.” Out sauntered “Sophia-motherf*cking-Stel,” as Christian Jason earlier introduced her, with a presence appropriate to the title. In a black Ralph Lauren hoodie and loose-fitted black Adidas track pants, Sophia’s channeled all her energy into her voice. She entered holding a plastic water bottle and a full-sized bottle of Casamigos in the same hand, placing them both in front of her. Someone in the crowd behind me let out an awed “she has so much aura.” She sipped from both bottles regularly throughout the show. 

As a casual listener of her music prior to the concert, I often skipped most of the tracks on Object Permanence and How To Win At Solitaire in order to get to “Object Permanence,” “I’ll Take It,” and “All My Friends Are Models”. But during the concert, I found her most career-defining songs to be those between the ones the crowd could sing the lyrics to. “Static” and “Taste” were two quieter songs played back-to-back in her set that revealed a craftsmanship to her art and a cinematography I hadn’t recognized before. A sound specific to the image of Sophia standing alone, dressed in something that looked unearthed from a pile like the one on the chair in your bedroom, lazily gripping a bottle of tequila by the neck. 

Following “Taste”, she played a song I couldn’t place, as she dropped her zip-up hoodie to the ground and let loose her hip-length hair, which swung freely as she bounced across the stage. I became so lost in the song that only later in the night, after listening back to my shaky recordings, did it occur to me that this song had yet to be released: a conclusion which first upset me but promised only good things for what’s to come.

After what felt like a short few songs later, Sophia alerted the crowd that she would play two more, and she was met with equal numbers of saddened boos and excited woos. The penultimate was the most recent “Bitches Talk Shit,” which I find perfectly fits into the rest of her discography with obvious rap, EDM, and hip-hop influences, but contains a certain dynamism. Especially live, this song marks a culmination of Sophia’s ability to create sounds you can’t help but envision bodies moving and lights flashing to. “I’ll Take It” naturally closed out the set as her most-listened-to song to date, during which she hopped off stage to dance in the pit with the crowd. After the song finished and Sophia left the stage, the audience cheered incessantly until she came back for a surprise encore of yet another unreleased song that took my breath away. It was perfect for the screen.

During this song, as my mind sparked with wonder, I could not help but flash a hastily typed note which read “A24 NEEDED U..” at the stage. Sophia came over to read it, smiled through her singing, and appreciatively motioned in my direction. 

I left Elsewhere with a ceaseless anxiety in my stomach that the days of Sophia Stel performing at venues made for the underground may soon pass. However, I felt a certain joy at having seen barriers transcended tonight from the crowd alone: across artistic mediums, age, race, sexuality, and gender, creatives celebrated and collaborated with one another. Model, actor, and artist friends watched among fans in the same pit. “We’re all the coolest ever,” Paloma passively responded as I gushed to her. “We’re all here, in the same place, aren’t we?” 

I don’t know where Sophia Stel is going, but there is much to be said for the crowd that will follow. I do wonder if someday soon, I’ll see a poster for a beautiful new coming-of-age indie film on the street with her name attached to the score, and think of that bottle of Casamigos on the stage.