The first sign of the night’s electricity is the crowd—wrapped around the block, buzzing, like the marquee above the Fox Theater, which reads: Djo — Sold Out. This is Djo’s biggest tour to date, spanning North America and Europe and including shows at Coachella and Lollapalooza. It’s a far cry from Keery's early Post Animal days playing small Chicago clubs, but he hasn’t forgotten his roots. In fact, he's brought them along—Post Animal opens the show, and Keery even joins them on guitar for their final song, breaking usual concert protocol, where the headliner remains hidden until their dramatic entrance during their set.
When Joe Keery takes the stage as Djo—flanked by his two drummers, two guitarists, a bassist, a synth player, and himself swapping between electric guitar, acoustic, and keys—the crowd erupts in applause as Joe swaggers to center stage. It’s clear this isn’t an actor dabbling in music. It’s a frontman leading a tight, dynamic, and thoroughly rehearsed band through a full-spectrum sonic journey. And while the size and setup of the group might resemble a jam band, the execution and precision of each track is clean, exciting, yet playful, oscillating between various tones and styles with each song.
The set opens with the hypnotic arpeggiated synth of “Runner,” a slow build that sends the crowd’s excitement into overdrive. Then the kick drum lands, the band crashes in, and the night shifts into top gear.
It’s easy to be skeptical when a TV actor picks up a guitar. It’s practically a trope, and an unfair one at that, given how many musicians transition into acting without the same pushback, but nonetheless, the path is well worn: celebrity tries music, headlines a few festivals they don’t REALLY deserve to be on, and then go back to acting when the lukewarm fan response turns cold. With those acts, ticket sales are often based on the audience’s familiarity with the actor’s face—not the music. But this crowd isn’t here to watch an actor pretend to be a rockstar, they’re here for the music, and you can hear it in their voices as they sing nearly every lyric back at Keery.
When "Gloom" drops, the room erupts. The bass throbs, the dual drummers deliver a deep, pulsating beat, and even the balcony is bouncing. Even as the mood shifts with slower tracks like "Lonesome Is A State of Mind," from the new album The Crux, the show never loses its grip. The crowd stays locked in. The audience sways in near silence, as if under a spell. It’s not unreasonable to ask “Is Djo practicing some form of hypnosis?”
When “Basic Being Basic” starts, the crowd erupts. The track pulses with retro charm—plucky, minimal synths, and a chorus so sticky it loops in your head for days. Song after song, the show chugs along, with very brief asides to the audience. It’s clear the music is the focus.
They move into 'Charlie’s Garden,' a surreal, sunlit track evoking Paul McCartney’s more playful tracks, with cheeky detours and off-kilter charm. The audience rides every twist and turn, as the band floats right into "Gap Tooth Smile," where Keery sings, "Anything's cool if it's done with heart,” a line that could be a Djo mission statement. You feel their heart as they play, there’s no posturing, it’s sincere, and from this, the connection with the crowd is made more palpable. This isn’t just a singalong—it’s a choir. Joe thanks the crowd and his bandmates with genuine warmth, calling out to his friends and family in the audience for their dedication and support. It’s disarmingly heartfelt.
When “Potion” drops, someone literally reverses course from the bathroom and sprints back in. That’s the power of Djo’s pull, and this article should serve as a warning to all weak bladdered Djo fans, go before the show. Unfortunately for the poor soul who bailed on their bathroom break, Djo launched into a string of fan favorites, one after another. I can’t say what happened to that concert goer, but I know I didn’t see them leave after turning back. We can only hope for the best with our young hero, and those around him.
The show sustains its energy all night, and so does the crowd, who cheer and scream relentlessly for an encore. By the final song of the encore “Flash Mountain,” Joe invites Post Animal back onstage. It becomes a full-blown supergroup: megaphone vocals, shredding guitars, floor-shaking bass. The driving guitar riffs reach their peak, as the strobes match the frenetic energy of the band and crowd. Even the folks at the very back of the theater, with no sightline to speak of, are dancing and bouncing like they’re front row.
By the end, it’s obvious: this isn’t an actor dabbling in music. This is a musician who happens to act. Joe Keery doesn’t just perform—he authentically connects. In a time when audiences are often glazed over, separated from self and performer through an ironic detachment, sincerity feels rare. But with Djo, it feels real.
