Xiu Xiu
Gray Area, San Francisco
October 8, 2026
Photos by Geoffrey Smith II
Harrowing, yet satisfying: that is the best way I can sum up the live experience of Eraserhead Xiu Xiu, the latest album by San Jose-spawned experimental art rockers Xiu Xiu, and the title of their complementary live shows. Known for over two decades of raw emotion, noise, and avant-garde exploration, the unpredictable band feels uniquely suited to tackle David Lynch’s surrealist masterwork. In their second release drawing directly from Lynch’s body of work, Xiu Xiu have not covered or rescored the directorial debut by one of American cinema’s greatest figures, but rather transmuted its mood and tension, carrying over only a handful of elements in a literal way.
Not having listened to the album before attending this show, I was unsure of what to expect, and the live execution of the project was just as unconventional and startling as the film itself.
Recent years have seen many film composers perform their work live in a rock concert format, or screen a film with live instrumental accompaniment. This was neither. This was something wholly original, much more Xiu Xiu than Lynch. Unlike their 2016 album Plays the Music of Twin Peaks, which covered and reinterpreted original scores, this was pure sound collage, using the original content as emotional inspiration rather than a blueprint.
Xiu Xiu have built a deep, sonically broad catalog since their formation in 2002, mostly circling the outer edges of indie and art rock. On a fundamental level, Eraserhead Xiu Xiu shares little with their prior output, save for the presence of core members Angela Seo and Jamie Stewart. Deftly smacked electronic drum pads and dexterously tapped synth keys were present, but the sheer array of odd objects wielded live was only part of the experience.
Lynch’s Eraserhead is a slow burn, building dread over 90 minutes. Eraserhead Xiu Xiu managed the same feelings in roughly half that time. Imagery drove at least half the experience, as the duo projected grayscale photos and brief video loops over their din. Interludes of musical complexity offered brief reprieves, mirrored by moments of unexpected beauty in the visuals. Many of the projected images were not overtly scary or wrong, but displaying them for long stretches forced the audience to look closer, hunting for incongruities or discomfort hidden in the frame while the audio insisted that something wasn’t right. It felt very “analog horror.”
The music feels fully realized and physically overwhelming, whereas the visual side faces a harder task. Translating Lynch’s iconic framing to live projections is tough, and invoking his name sets the bar unrealistically high. A few choices missed the mark. For instance, a quick loop of an e-girl pulling a cross-eyed “ahegao” face felt silly amidst the dark tone, but the visuals mostly complemented the sound. Sea foam billowed and throbbed on a beach, taking on a pulsating quality that echoed the film’s most distressing scene, where thick bodily fluids froth from a misshapen infant.
“Startling” best describes the performance’s peak moments. Spoilers ahead for anyone planning to see this live: at one point, after an extended period of low-key tones and ambient textures, Seo shouted “Shut up!” several times, channeling the new mother’s distress before she flees her apartment. Later, a sudden downward pan on the screen induced a genuine feeling of falling that had me bracing myself. Near the end of the set, Stewart aggressively smashed glass bottles with a stick. Throughout the show, the duo coaxed hollow, haunting tones out of plastic tubing, and ground a Dremel tool against a box, generating thick layers of noise around moments of precise musicianship. They closed out the performance with a beautifully sung, anguished, soul-crushing version of “In Heaven (Lady in the Radiator Song).”
It was harrowing, but the brevity made it satisfying. At 45 minutes (or so), it didn’t overstay its welcome or attempt to match the runtime of the film. The duo left the stage without playing hits or older material, simply standing, bowing, and letting the experience linger in our heads as we departed the venue and ventured home.
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