Words by Kali Moreno
Photos by Kelli Rothwell

A sold-out night at The Pearl set the tone for a show that felt half concert, half art installation. Sudan Archives brought her genre-blurring world to Vancouver following the release of The BPM in 2025, with support from Cain Culto.

Cain Culto confidently navigated an energetic, multi-media set backed by Indigenous, Latin American, and Bluegrass influences – what he calls Kentucky Latin Art-Pop. As he gradually shed layers of clothing, he added homemade props to deliver his song’s messages of empowerment and resistance in both Spanish and English. His musical skills as a vocalist and violinist, paired with his artistic expression as a visual artist, created a riveting piece of performance art.

Dressed in a skin-tight, full body suit and wearing otherworldly grey contact lenses, Sudan Archives commanded a sold-out stage for her one-woman set at The Pearl. The deeply human themes of her songs, which sit in genre around house, techno, and R&B, were shared with the rowdy audience alongside recurring mechanical sounds and choreographed robotic movements. This examination of technology and humanity reminded that her artistry and expression transcend her talents as a singer, violinist, and beat-maker. Sudan Archives performed three encore songs, jumping off the stage to dance with the screaming crowd before leaving Vancouver with the parting words: “y’all are fucking lit.”

Check out our favourite photos of the night below or head to our Facebook page for the full gallery!

Upcoming Tour Dates:
02-18 San Francisco, CA – Regency Ballroom
02-19 San Diego, CA – Music Box
02-20 Los Angeles, CA – The Fonda Theatre
More info on Sudan Archives’ website.

SUDAN ARCHIVES

CAIN CULTO

All Photo Credit: Kelli Rothwell

Words by Starr Lee

SAN FRANCISCO- After an intimate residency in Brooklyn earlier this year, Sam Smith has brought the concept west, settling into San Francisco’s newly reopened Castro Theatre for a five-week run that feels deliberate and personal.

The neon marquee glows against the fog like it has  something to say. Inside the 1,400-capacity movie palace, restored after a $41 million renovation, the main level fills quickly. No floor seating. Just a standing crowd packed beneath the balcony, bodies shoulder to shoulder, faces tilted toward the stage. Above them, fans lean over the railing, drinks in hand, waiting.

Smith walks out without fanfare.

They open with “Lay Me Down,” nearly motionless beneath a single spotlight. Dressed in a structured captain’s hat and a sweeping lace coat fastened with an oversized flower pendant, they look like a romantic voyager arriving somewhere that already feels familiar. The first note is soft, almost cautious. Then it opens.

In a room this size, nothing escapes. The Castros’ acoustics catch the grain in Smith’s tenor, the slight ache at the edge of sustained notes, the inhale before a chorus swells. The crowd is silent, standing still, listening.

When “I’m Not the Only One” begins, the temperature shifts. Smith lowers their voice for the first verse, almost speaking the lines before lifting into the chorus. On “You and me, we made a vow,” their voice tightens just slightly, intentional and controlled. By the second refrain, the crowd is singing quietly along. Not screaming. Not overpowering. Just enough to be felt. Smith steps back from the mic for a beat and lets the lyric hover before reclaiming it with a steady rise. The moment feels shared rather than performed.

After the second song, Smith looks out across the standing crowd below the balcony.

“This city means a lot to me,” they say. “My first show here, I was 20 years old.”

They tell a story about being left alone in San Francisco while a partner explored the city without them. About wandering through neighbourhoods by themselves. About unexpectedly falling in love with the place. “It feels very full circle to be here for five weeks,” they admit, scanning the room.

Then they squint toward the front.

“Wait. Were you here last night?”

A fan screams.

“Oh my God. You’re doing the residency properly. I love that.”

Laughter spreads across the floor and up to the balcony. That’s the difference when an artist stays in one place. The room starts to recognise itself.

Midway through the set, the lace coat slips away, revealing a custom Vivienne Westwood look: a black poet’s shirt with dramatic sleeves, tailored cheeky shorts, towering heeled boots striking sharply against the stage. The shift feels freeing. Smith moves differently now. Looser. More playful.

They introduce a new track, “My Guy,” sharing that for the first time in their career, they are writing from a place where the love is reciprocated. Followed by a cover of  Erasure’s “A Little Respect”, “It’s a Wednesday,” they laugh, “but I need you to shake your titties.”

The balcony answers first.

A sleek blend of “Ain’t Nobody” and “I’m Not Here to Make Friends” turns the theatre intoa late-night dance floor. But soon they bring the energy back down to another cover

Later, bathed in deep blue light, Smith steps toward the piano for “Angel From Montgomery.”

“It took me eight years to finally listen to Elton and sing this,” they admit.

The arrangement is stripped back to piano and voice. No embellishment. The lower register carries weight. The higher notes remain clear and measured. When the final line fades, the room holds still for a second longer than expected before applause breaks through.

Sam Smith’s residency at the Castro Theatre runs through Feb.10th-March 14th, 2026. Tickets are available via the theatre’s official website. With just 1,400 standing spots per night and word spreading quickly, availability is limited.

Five weeks in one theatre does something rare. It turns a concert into a chapter. And this one is still being written.