On Saturday night, The Sinclair in Cambridge, MA was packed to the brim. The venue opened up the upstairs balcony and every inch was filled for Felly. The Connecticut-born artist has built a career on changing lanes regularly, and this show highlighted that. It was a genre-bending party where rap, indie rock, and even flashes of country took center stage at times.Â
Opener John Robert provided a compelling warm-up act. His set began on a quieter, note but built steadily until the room was dancing. A call-and-response moment, something I’ve seen fall flat for openers, landed effortlessly. Stylistically, his country-pop Appalachian mix might not seem like an obvious match for Felly’s catalog, but against Felly’s newer rock-leaning material, the pairing clicked.
Felly set the tone for his set right away by cracking open a beer and raising it toward the crowd with a smile: “It’s Saturday. I might as well crack a cold one with you.” That loose energy with the fans carried through the night. Even if his career has spanned more than a decade at this point, he’s still performing like it’s his first headline tour. His set bounced between his latest EP “Ambroxyde,” washed in indie rock textures and band-driven hooks, and older material rooted in rap and trap. The effect was a setlist that played more like a houseparty playlist.
While he didn’t linger on banter, Felly knew how to connect with the crowd. The biggest moment came in the finale, when he tore through “Probation” before leaping offstage and moshing with the fans. It was a chaotic, communal finale for an already wild set. Just before leaving, he paused long enough to thank the fans, especially those who’ve been there since the early days. He also promised that with his return to self-producing, there’s plenty more music on the horizon.
This was my first time seeing Felly live, and my research before the show had left me stumped as to what genre he fits into. But that’s the magic with his live shows. Felly doesn’t have to choose between sounds. He can toast the crowd with a beer, trade bars over trap beats, lean into indie guitar riffs, and end the night in the pit. And somehow, it all feels like the same story.
