Sudan Archives transports Crescent Ballroom to another world

It’s an easy night in Phoenix, and the interior of downtown’s Crescent Ballroom on Jan. 17 is lax, cheery and conversational. Then some movements start, with the minimal setup playing serene bird chirping and running water sounds against a visual techno ambiance, and it gets quiet. 

But now it’s past nine, and Sudan Archives arrives. And soon this classic, quaint venue has become a Coruscant nightclub in a galaxy far, far away, a boiler room mixed with a stage show, rife with ethereal yet industrial sounds and constant, relentless movement. 

From her webbed and metallic bodysuit to her sheathed violin bow and quiver, which was accompanied by the appropriate metallic swoosh each time it was unsheathed, Sudan Archives was immediate in establishing a commanding, mesmerizing presence. 

And soon it was apparent that this was no ordinary show. After the relaxing intro, Sudan Archives opened with a violin solo, the instrument mounted on her arm in an almost militarily convenient musical setup, before dropping into the boom of the opening track. 

But there was no backing and no band ready on the breakdown. This performance, for its hour-and-a-half runtime, was entirely solo. She pranced and played all across the stage from instrument to instrument in constant movement. 

This was matched with theater-like choreography and immersive character, in which she embodied the world of her 2025 album, “THE BPM,” creating an altogether true, entrancing one-woman show. 

The BPM North America tour, supported by Angélica Garcia, is fresh in its legs, with Phoenix on Jan. 17 being only its second stop after opening in Tucson at La Rosa. It, like Sudan Archives’ music in general, is grand in nature, full of cinematic swells and kinetic structures. It seamlessly blends house, hip-hop, R&B, and electro, all accompanied by boiler-room ambiance and, of course, a signature tricked-out electric violin. 

These sounds and styles rotate often between, and even during, songs, but an intentional balance kept this audience, a varied bunch that was surely many’s introduction to Sudan Archives, moving and entertained. Modern genre mixes, especially those that lean on left-field hyperpop and electronica, are usually associated with more Gen Z audiences, but the language of BPM seems to be received universally. 

The setlist, featuring new songs “DEAD,” “YEA YEA YEA,” “MY TYPE” and more, as well as older cuts like “Freakalizer,” was a constant barrage of energy: large, crescendoing moments and breakdowns, rolling percussion and animated vocals. 

Despite no on-stage assistance, each detail and choice was well-crafted and intentional. Even a random fan’s accompaniment dancing during one song was so synchronous and fluid, the pair encircling each other around the stage among other moves, that it seemed impossible to have not been choreographed — instead a brief but electric moment of true connection.

There was no lack of groove nor movement. Each track’s pattering arrangements that leaned on her trademark string melodies were warm and fun and chaotic, so that no feeling was left unturned. 

In mannerisms and fluidity and scale, the BPM experience is as dreamed up loftily in one’s bedroom, performing to the mirror, and brought to life truly as the sparkling fantasy expectation, the one-woman show brought enchantingly to life. 

Undoubtedly fresh in both sound and style, Sudan Archives provided a rare singularity of experience among concerts — or, more aptly named here, shows. There’s not much that’s committed to transforming the modern concert as this, a wholly immersive and compelling show that leaves it all there on the stage. 

More photos from Sudan Archives at Crescent Ballroom: