Review: John Maus at The Rechabite
John Maus at The Rechabite
w/ No Bride
Thursday, May 23, 2026
‘And now for something completely different’ is perhaps the most apt way to describe John Maus’ performance at The Rechabite. A surface-level reading of the night would suggest that a packed house simply watched a, granted, quite fit, middle-aged professor gyrate and lunge through a rigorous cardio program, performing karaoke to his own backing tracks.
Yet, there was a method to this seeming oddball madness. Maus’ rejection of conventional performance tropes evoked a quasi-religious spirit, fostering a dialogue between performer and audience that rivalled even the most mesmeric pop stars.
Support came from No Bride, the alias of local ambient-electro producer Hannah Pillinger. Performing as a duo, Pillinger’s vocals and keyboard work showcased an elegant array of breathy, noir-adjacent material; think Laura Palmer meets Lana Del Rey. Despite the pair not quite finding their stage groove, the songwriting was undeniable, anchored by Pillinger’s unique lyrical phrasing. With a much-coveted support slot for Cate Le Bon at Arrival Festival this winter, No Bride will be well worth seeing again.
With a palpable buzz radiating through the hall, John Maus took the stage with little fanfare. Carrying bottles of water to his HQ, a square black boombox used to trigger the set, he commenced proceedings with the squeaky synth flourishes of Castles in the Grave before a slew of fan favourites.
On stage, Maus was a kinetic force. Subjecting himself to what he terms ‘the hysterical body’, the political science PhD frantically paced, undergoing a series of mechanical spasms and bowing movements. A direct antidote to detached cool, Maus is primal in essence, an athletic exorcism that suggests he isn’t just playing a show but rather burning through his own nervous system.
Musically, while his sound carries traces of the synth-driven punk of Suicide and Devo, Maus is unique for his whimsical celebration of the human spirit. His latest release, 2025’s Later Than You Think, arrived after a period of deep personal tragedy and a hiatus from the public eye, delving into themes of mourning, redemption, and faith.
The result is less sunny than his earlier work but no less striking. Maus used these newer tracks as thematic anchors, letting the early set hang from the cold synths of Because We Built It. The driving, hymn-like I Hate Antichrist provided an apex, while the Gregorian chant and Latin-infused Adorabo in the encore offered a moment of necessary tension release.
Between these anchors, Maus dove into his back catalogue in a blur of pounding synths and bellowing baritones. Standouts of the set included the psychedelic Just Wait Til Next Year, the classic pop sensibilities of Bennington and the epic synth saga of Cop Killer, which pulsed with a dark, cinematic urgency. This gave way to the anthemic …And The Rain, a moment that drew a rapturous singalong from the crowd. However, the undisputed pinnacle of the night was the glorious Believer to close the set. With its soaring, hope-filled melody and defiant inspiration, it provided a final beacon of light, leaving the audience in a state of collective transcendence.
Ultimately, witnessing Maus live is akin to a religious experience, the kind of performance that shifts minds rather than just moves bodies. In the shadows of The Rechabite, there was a palpable sense of community and a shared feeling of having been blessed by a singular creative force. Unapologetic in his being and visceral in his execution, Maus is, in the most authentic and creative of ways, something completely different.
MICHAEL HOLLICK
Photos by Adrian Thomson
