VISUAL DISPATCH, VOLUME 13:

Photo & Text by RonnieMarie FalascoGo to https://www.instagram.com/ronniefalasco/

On a brisk Sunday evening in late September, I walked into the palatial lobby of the recently renovated Brooklyn Paramount TheaterGo to https://www.brooklynparamount.com/ and felt like I’d been whisked into another world—one reminiscent of days past with an ineffable, modern twist. I was there to see musician and producer Mk.geeGo to https://www.instagram.com/mk.gee_/?hl=en (born Michael Gordon) at one of the many sold-out shows on his world tour. That night, he would be taking the stage where countless music legends before him had been. Think Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, and Bing Crosby, just to name a few.

While those are some big shoes to fill, Mk.gee has a reputation for doing things his own way when it comes to producing and performing music—so I had a feeling I was in for something different.

Mk.gee, a 28-year-old from New Jersey, released his debut album Two Star and the Dream PoliceGo to https://mkgee.co/twostarandthedreampolice this past February, garnering high praise from major publications and listeners alike. The album’s genre? Well, some call it lo-fi pop, some call it indie rock, and some call it alternative R&B. In other words, it’s genre-bending. Imagine if Phil Collins, Jai Paul, Bon Iver, and The Blue Nile had a (metaphorical) baby—it would (sort of) be Mk.gee. But even that doesn’t adequately capture the unique sonic world that Mk.gee built in his Two Star album.

Although young, Mk.gee has been in the music game for some time. Before Two Star, the musician released a handful of EPs and mixtapes that built him a solid indie fanbase. In 2018, Frank Ocean played his song “You” on Blonded Radio, a moment that brought him some well-deserved attention. Mk.gee has also garnered production credits on songs for artists like Drake and The Kid Laroi, as well as been a touring guitarist with fellow music collaborator Dijon. 

For years, he’s been referred to as a “musician for musicians” and “your favorite artist’s favorite artist,” with the likes of SZA, 6LACK, and Justin Bieber publicly singing his praises. But as I chatted with people attending his Brooklyn show, it was clear that admiration for Mk.gee had reached beyond just the music-making community.

I met an assortment of people—some professional or aspiring musicians, and many not. There was a solo teen girl who discovered Mk.gee when The 1975’s Matty Healy reposted one of his songs on Instagram, a group of 20-something guys who play pick-up soccer together, a pair of friends who take inspiration from Mk.gee’s producing style when making their own music, and a gentleman in his 60s whose YouTube algorithm suggested Two Star to him after he listened to The Police’s Synchronicity. Regardless of what brought them to the show, those in attendance were ecstatic to be there.

Under the full-strength theater lights, I could see Mk.gee’s stage setup. It looked like the workshop of a musical madman: a maze of analog tape recorders, synthesizers, speakers, pedals, and wires. As expected, a few guitars were placed throughout this mélange of equipment, but they weren’t the focal point. So while Mk.gee’s guitar prowess is frequently the focus of commentary on his music, this setup hinted that he was more than just a “guitar wizard.”

As the clock hit 9:15 PM and the lights dimmed, the crowd’s hum of excitement turned to screams, and the labyrinth of gear disappeared. On the dark stage, three barely visible figures casually walked out to their positions for the night: Andrew AgedGo to https://www.instagram.com/andrew_aged/?hl=en (accompanying guitarist) at stage right, Zack SekoffGo to https://www.instagram.com/zacksekoff/?hl=en (electronics) in the center behind a wall of speakers, and Mk.gee at stage left. 

There was a surprising lack of fanfare in the trio’s entrance, as they made their way to the stage with no music, no lights, and no real acknowledgment that the crowd was even there. Each simply fiddled with their instruments in the dark, like they were prepping for soundcheck. A metronome-like noise began to play through the speakers, initiating what felt like a countdown for the feverishly anticipatory crowd.

Then, in a sensory explosion, Mk.gee hit the chest-vibrating opening guitar riff of “Dream Police,” and two white spotlights blasted on at the back of the stage, revealing three silhouettes shrouded in fog. The crowd erupted. And just like that, without saying a word, Mk.gee had commanded the attention of all 2700 people in the audience, with heads turning and fingers pointing to his shadowy, guitar-wielding figure.

The setlist solely consisted of previously released tracks: the entirety of the Two Star album, plus Mk.gee’s 2024 single “Lonely Night” and a rendition of his 2020 song “cz.” And yet, each song sounded richer and more layered than their respective studio versions. They somehow simultaneously felt familiar and unfamiliar, old and new. (Could this be why Mk.gee’s YouTube and Instagram comments are full of people begging him to put out a live version of the Two Star album? I’d dare to say yes.)

For much of the show, the songs he played felt like one continuous piece rather than separate tracks. As the band neared the end of one song, the lights would dim and the song would fade out until we were left in total darkness with some indistinct humming or reverb coming through the speakers. The band would then slowly build new sounds on top of that until another song emerged. It was like a wordless guessing game between Mk.gee and the audience, where the energy would shift from silent suspense and awe to erupting excitement when a distinct note would finally give away the next track.

Mk.gee’s performance, though obviously well-rehearsed and meticulously planned to a certain degree, possessed a distinct spirit of improvisation and reinvention. It felt like you were watching through a window while he, Zack, and Andrew rehearsed in the studio. Like you were witnessing new music being made in real time.

“I don’t usually do this one,” Mk.gee announced midway through the show, “but we’re gonna try it.” As if the crowd wasn’t even there, he spent the next minute or so toying with knobs and buttons on the impressive stack of tape recorders, drum machines, and synthesizers beside him, emitting strange, unidentifiable tones that echoed off the theater’s vaulted ceilings. He then launched into a guitar solo that sounded at first unfamiliar but eventually gave way to a grittier, slowed-down version of his song “cz”—an old fan favorite reimagined in the Two Star era. 

Mk.gee is often touted for his inventive guitar playing (and rightly so), but his vocals truly stood out during the show. In some of the studio versions of Two Star’s tracks, his voice feels like it lives within the mix, often possessing the same underwater or grainy quality of its respective melody. When the songs are performed live, however, his voice feels less distorted, clearer. During tracks like “Are You Looking Up,” his vocals had a smoky raspiness to themGo to https://www.instagram.com/p/DCPWc97RUXq/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA== when he belted the final chorus. And during songs like “Little Bit More,” he showcased his range while hitting some impressively crisp falsettos.

While Mk.gee rarely spoke during the show, he and his bandmates radiated a palpable aura of impassioned energy and carefree creativity. He’d often jump around the stage while slashing his guitar, sometimes hopping back to his mic to shriek something unintelligible in a moment of pure excitement (all while managing to never trip over one of the many wires strewn across the stage). As they were leading into “Candy,”Go to https://www.instagram.com/p/DCPWc97RUXq/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA== one of Two Star’s more well-known tracks, Zack hit a button on his soundboard that triggered a hawk sound effect, earning a rare grin from Mk.gee—and subsequently making the crowd go crazy. “They’re like kids with iPads,” one fan laughed. And I guess they kind of were, if those kids also happened to be wickedly talented musicians.

In the handful of moments when Mk.gee did address the crowd, they ate up every word. One of the most memorable exchanges came after the musician played his song “DNM,” one of Two Star’s most upbeat songs, three times in a row. “I’ll do whatever you want,” he offered to the crowd. “What do you guys want?” Some indistinct screams came from the audience, and then the lights went out. “F*** it,” Mk.gee’s voice rang into the darkness, followed by the familiar piano notes that start “DNM.” The crowd exploded as the song played for a fourth time. Mk.gee hopped around the stage while everyone sang the first verse for him—jumping, laughing, and embracing their friends while they did so.

When the theater lights came up for a final time following an encore of the popular “Alesis” and a second playthrough of “Candy,” the still-buzzing crowd was reluctant to leave. Only when theater employees ushered people out did they slowly make their way to the street to find their Ubers or catch the next subway train.

At the Brooklyn Paramount, Mk.gee made clear that he’s more than just a singer or a guitarist. He’s a musician, a performer. One who doesn’t want to be pigeonholed into a particular instrument, genre, or niche. And why should we box him in like that? Why demand clear labels and meaning from a musician when the beauty of music-making is that it’s alive, dynamic, ever-changing?

What’s special about an artist like Mk.gee is the certainty of uncertainty that surrounds him. You can be sure that you don’t know what’s coming next—but whatever it is will be refreshingly unconventional.