Dumbhead, live at phoenix central park, 22 September 2026.

Lucy Horton and Calista Burrowes review

It was hard not to revel in the air of self-concocted mystery on the rainy Tuesday night that experimental trip-hop three-piece Dumbhead (Naarm) graced Judith Neilson’s Phoenix Central Park. Chippendale creatives decked out in slim-fit leather and work-sponsored umbrellas lined the courtyard, which opened to a downbeat world of sparse, serif-laden programs and concrete monoliths for bathroom cubicles. The drums and bass were testing themselves in a sizzle as we set up, dripping, at the bottom of the winding staircase, and I felt at the cutting-edge of some Nordic Noir (if the standard forest was swapped out with some industrial cavern).

Dumbhead’s take on trip-hop was far from dank and numbingly repetitive, which I think the genre can sometimes be: the percussion feels no less oppressive for the attempt to tastefully balance the psychedelic or operatic, and consequently is sluggish behind its melodic counterparts. Here, the trumpet in Henry Rawling and guitar in Maayan Barnatan chased each other to probe brightly at chords sub-seconds apart, which set the pulse of the show. Almost a race, and unexpectedly post-punky, but not quite –– there was plenty of space for Billie Raffety’s gorgeous voice to triumph over the cavernous space, which by this point was washed in a primordial red that threw shadows of heads like cave paintings on the walls.

It has been a long time since trip-hop, born out of Bristol, burst onto the musical scene. The genre has seen a resurgence in the 2020s, mostly in the form of this generation discovering the catalogues of Portishead and Massive Attack, but we’ve been treated to some new groups that have not only recaptured but advanced what made it so electric and syncretic. Dumbhead is most certainly at the forefront of this. As the group traversed through their setlist, each member held their own ground, producing an incredible soundscape that felt as if the audience had stepped into the black liquorice grooves on an LP. ‘want light!’ off their 2025 EP Dumbhead was a particular highlight.

With instrumentation absolutely maxed-out at points (I had to escape the bass twice), it was a credit to Dumbhead’s tactful tension between horns, strings, and decks that genuine variation and respite could be meted out whenever, seemingly, they wanted. The Hermetic principle of vibration was in full force. Guitar, plucked near-classically in the come-down from electronic crescendos, was often a recourse to percussive loops which, in excess of a minute, threatened to jade the midweek crowd (along with the demands of standing-room-only; most jiving ball to heel by now). Despite the lo-fi nature of their music, certainly every moment was infected with a sense of life and purpose, particularly when Billie picked up the keys 3 or 4 songs in to change vocal tack from high and ethereal to strong, deep, and sustained (I later learn she’s a trained jazz singer).

I had physics on my mind as I watched Zach Salmon’s mixer’s interface; its clear white prisms warping as he dubbed and delayed live. Dumbhead worked so well, I think, in the same way that waves, pulsing wildly, might meet slightly out of phase and even to some middle amplitude. Its frequency, robust and exciting enough to make forty minutes dissolve in no time, felt right at home in the tessellating walls of Phoenix Central Park. Europe and the UK are in for a treat as Dumbhead brings their talents there later this year.