by Tim McMahan, Lazy-i.com

If anything, last night’s Molchat Doma/Sextile show at Steelhouse Omaha proved that the massive, blimp-hangar-style facility can host shows that only draw 1/3 of its capacity and still feel like an important event.

Los Angeles electronic-fueled post-punk act Sextile — no stranger to Omaha — was up first and scored the better of the two performances, thanks to a shorter set and more varied and frenetic music. Sextile’s heart-racing, jittery rhythms, infectious bass lines and unlimited energy generated by three bouncing musicians did everything it could to get the (guess-timated) crowd of around 1,000 moving. 

Throughout their 10-year careers, Sextile has always been more punk than post-punk, and never moreso than on their aggressive new album, Yes, Please., slated for release May 2 on Sacred Bones Records. New songs like “Women Respond to Bass,” “Kids,” “S Is For” and set closer “Resist” — wherein vocalist/instrumentalist Melissa Scaduto hoisted a flag emblazed with “Abortion Rights Now!” — were among the night’s highlights. 

Long-time Sextile fans yearning for past glories were not disappointed. The set opened with 2018 favorite “Disco,” and included tracks “No Fun” and “Contortion” from 2023’s Push. Instrumentally, Scaduto and fellow front-person Brady Keehn impressed with their stick-work and knob twirling when not spitting lyrics at the crowd. 

A fellow concert-goer pointed out the music would be perfect at 2 a.m. in a crowded, smoke-filled warehouse while high on some unidentified substance, instead of at 8:30 on a Monday night drinking a lukewarm microbrew. Maybe that’s why so few were moving on the floor beyond the edge of the stage. Ah, to be honest, the only band I’ve seen turn an Omaha crowd that size into a bouncing a mob was The Faint.

Shortly after 9 p.m., Molchat Doma took the blackened stage, each band member staking out his territory – bassist Pavel Kozlov stage left, guitarist Roman Komogortsev stage right, and frontman Egor Shkutko dead center. And that’s where they stayed throughout the evening while someone somewhere controlled the prerecorded synth and rhythm tracks that fueled the performance. 

“We are Molchat Doma from Minsk, Belarus,” Egor quietly declared after the first song. “Dosvedanya.” 

The basic song recipe involved a drone/tone intro followed by a kick-ass rhythm track, Pavel’s bassline and Roman’s guitar. It’s easy to point out the obvious influences – Depeche Mode, The Cure, Joy Division, etc. A fellow concert-goer gave nods to Nitzer Ebb and Front Line Assembly.

But despite the rump-shakingly infectious rhythms and guitars, Egor’s dark, bosso voice eventually transported listeners to a drab, Soviet-era landscape covered in brutalist architecture. It was like listening to a soldier sing mournful Russian-language anthems over a wicked EDM loop.

Early in the set, the audience, which included a lot of younger people dressed in black, many donning their best goth styles and make-up, merely nodded their heads to the beat. But as you walked deeper into the crowd, you noticed the bodies moving oh so subtly, the energy increasing closer to the stage. I’m unsure where these fans came from, as Molchat Doma has never played Omaha before and isn’t heard on local radio. The answer is probably those viral TikTok videos, apparently as popular here as in Eastern Bloc countries.

Despite shifts in rhythm and melodies — and instrumental interludes (in one instance, Pavel and Roman met centerstage and exchanged riffs) — the music’s “sameness” was unescapable thanks to being draped in dirge-like vocals. How would their music sound with English-language pop vocals? No doubt it would lose its gravitas — and to some, become more interesting — but it would never be Molchat Doma. And to that, all I can say is “Dosvedanya.”

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Read Tim McMahan’s blog daily at Lazy-i.com — an online music magazine that includes feature interviews, reviews and news. The focus is on the national indie music scene with a special emphasis on the best original bands in the Omaha area. Copyright © 2025 Tim McMahan. All rights reserved.