There’s something uniquely hypnotic about a Kurt Vile show — that sense that time slows down, the crowd exhales, and everything dissolves into a haze of jangly guitars, looping reverb, and sly half-smiles. At the Hollywood Palladium in 2025, that’s exactly what unfolded: a night where the Philadelphia native turned a cavernous room into his own kind of daydream. The setlist leaned heavily on his more contemplative side, punctuated by moments of psychedelic groove and laid-back humor, all carried by his signature drawl and an atmosphere of unhurried magic.
The Palladium itself was packed but mellow, filled with fans who knew every word but didn’t feel the need to shout them. Vile isn’t about chaos or volume — his is a slow burn, the kind of performance that sneaks up on you emotionally. And from the opening chords of “Jesus Fever,” it was clear he was fully in that mode, floating somewhere between wistfulness and cosmic curiosity.
The Setlist
-
Jesus Fever
-
Bassackwards
-
Mount Airy Hill (Way Gone)
-
Back to Moon Beach (with Farmer Dave Scher)
-
Girl Called Alex (with Farmer Dave Scher)
-
Pretty Pimpin (with Farmer Dave Scher)
-
Hunchback (with Adam Granduciel & Farmer Dave Scher)
-
Wakin on a Pretty Day
The Opening Drift: “Jesus Fever” and “Bassackwards”
Vile started the night with “Jesus Fever,” an underrated gem from Smoke Ring for My Halo. It’s one of those songs that captures everything great about him — the lazy lilt of his voice, the melody that wanders but never loses its way, the way his band, The Violators, lets every note breathe. The sound was pristine, shimmering off the Palladium’s walls, a gentle reintroduction to Vile’s peculiar sense of rhythm and space.
“Bassackwards” followed, and the energy shifted. That track, from Bottle It In, is a swirling, almost cinematic sprawl, the kind of song that feels both stoned and philosophical. The looping guitar riff created a trance-like groove, with Vile hunched over his pedals, hair hanging in his face like a curtain. Watching him work that riff live is like witnessing a painter layer colors — he builds it piece by piece until it becomes something mesmerizing. The crowd swayed in unison, lost in the fog of sound.
It was the perfect one-two punch: introspective but groovy, detached yet personal. And it set the tone for the night — no hurry, no need to rush toward a chorus. Just space, texture, and vibe.
The Heartland of the Set: “Mount Airy Hill” and “Back to Moon Beach”
Vile’s new material has leaned toward dreamier, more existential spaces, and Back to Moon Beach (his 2023 EP) provided some of the night’s most intimate highlights. “Mount Airy Hill (Way Gone)” was sublime — delicate fingerpicking, a meandering melody, and a vocal delivery that felt like a diary entry read aloud. He joked mid-song, “This one’s about being home, and also being gone, which is kind of my whole thing.” The crowd laughed, but it was true — Vile’s music is always about wandering, physically and spiritually.
Then came “Back to Moon Beach,” and the first guest appearance of the night — Farmer Dave Scher, the multi-instrumentalist best known for his work with Beachwood Sparks and Jenny Lewis. Scher’s lap steel added a cosmic twang that took the song to another level, layering spacey textures beneath Vile’s acoustic strumming. The two musicians fed off each other beautifully — Scher weaving delicate lines through Vile’s rambling phrasing. It was equal parts desert-country and outer-space folk, the kind of sound only Vile could pull off in front of a few thousand people and still make it feel like you were in a living room.
The Emotional Core: “Girl Called Alex” and “Pretty Pimpin”
“Girl Called Alex” is one of Vile’s most beautiful songs, and live, it hit like a quiet confession. Again joined by Scher, Vile leaned into the song’s loneliness, stretching out its gentle pace with an almost meditative patience. There’s something deeply affecting about how he sings lines like “Sometimes I talk too much, but I can’t shut up” — it’s self-deprecating, but not self-pitying. The Palladium fell into a hush, a thousand people hanging on every note.
Then came the inevitable moment everyone was waiting for — “Pretty Pimpin.” The hit. The one that made casual listeners into fans and fans into evangelists. When that chiming guitar riff hit, the room lit up. Even the folks in the back were moving, mouthing the lyrics. And yet, Vile didn’t treat it like a radio single; he played it with the same loose, laconic cool he brings to everything. Scher’s slide guitar added a rootsy glow, while Vile’s vocals — part amused, part weary — turned the song into an anthem for self-reflection.
He smiled after the last chorus and shrugged, muttering into the mic, “Still can’t believe I wrote that one.” It got a laugh, but you could tell he meant it — a song so simple, so perfect, it feels like it’s always existed.
The Reunion: “Hunchback” with Adam Granduciel
If there was one truly electric moment in the set, it came next. Vile introduced Adam Granduciel of The War on Drugs with a grin: “Here’s my old buddy — let’s make some noise like it’s Philly, huh?” The crowd roared.
“Hunchback,” an early track from Childish Prodigy, suddenly turned the mellow night into a full-blown guitar brawl. The chemistry between Vile and Granduciel is undeniable — two friends who shaped each other’s sound, sharing a stage again like old times. They traded licks and grins, building the song into a fuzzy, distorted storm that rattled the room. Scher stayed on for this one too, giving it a spaced-out twang that cut through the wall of guitars.
It was nostalgic but vital, a reminder that Vile’s roots in The War on Drugs still pulse through his music. For five glorious minutes, it was 2010 again — two Philly guys, lost in a haze of sound and feedback, reminding everyone why they matter.
The Closing Drift: “Wakin on a Pretty Day”
Vile closed the night with “Wakin on a Pretty Day,” his signature nine-minute daydream from Wakin on a Pretty Daze. It’s hard to imagine a better closer. The song captures everything essential about Kurt Vile — the lazy introspection, the unhurried phrasing, the guitar lines that stretch and wander like thoughts on a quiet morning.
The Palladium lights dimmed to a warm, amber glow as Vile played, the crowd swaying softly. His voice — that unmistakable, half-whispered mumble — carried the melody like a breeze. The band fell into perfect sync, adding just enough texture to let the song float. There was no grand finale, no fireworks or big outro — just Vile slowly fading into silence, a wave of reverb filling the space.
When it ended, he gave a little wave, said, “Thanks for hangin’ out in my dream tonight,” and walked off. No encore. No need.
The Performance
What makes Kurt Vile’s shows so special isn’t bombast or energy — it’s the commitment to vibe. He creates an atmosphere where nothing feels rushed, where you can live inside a chord progression for five minutes and not get bored. The band was tight but unshowy — each member adding color without overpowering the mix. The sound design at the Palladium was pristine: you could hear every slide, every echo, every murmur of Vile’s voice.
Vile himself remains a fascinating frontman. He’s not flashy or charismatic in the traditional sense — but there’s an effortless cool to him, a sense that he’s just being himself and inviting you into his world. His guitar playing, meanwhile, remains criminally underrated — fluid, inventive, and deceptively complex. Watching him juggle fingerpicked acoustic lines with layered electric textures is a reminder of how deeply he understands tone and atmosphere.
The Crowd and the Mood
The audience reflected the artist — chill, respectful, but deeply tuned in. There weren’t many phones up, just heads nodding, eyes closed, people mouthing along quietly. You could feel how much these songs mean to them. Vile’s music has always appealed to that type of listener — people who find beauty in the in-between spaces, who don’t need the highs to be high or the lows to be dramatic.
Between songs, Vile cracked a few deadpan jokes — thanking the crowd for “coming to vibe with me on a school night,” and calling Farmer Dave “the trippiest dude west of the Mississippi.” It was loose, funny, and genuine. You could tell he was having fun, which made the whole experience warmer.
Final Thoughts
The Hollywood Palladium show wasn’t about spectacle — it was about mood, texture, and a kind of shared daydream. Kurt Vile has mastered the art of making sprawling songs feel intimate and making intimate songs feel endless. Whether backed by friends like Farmer Dave Scher and Adam Granduciel or drifting through his solo passages, he proved that his music’s power lies in its patience.
Every note lingered, every lyric felt lived-in, and every moment had that peculiar Kurt Vile quality — part stoner philosopher, part indie poet, part guitar alchemist. It was the kind of show that doesn’t blow you away instantly, but stays with you for days, echoing in your mind like the tail end of a reverb trail.
Grade: B+