I’m sat, crossing my legs in a small dark venue with a couple of my friends clinging on to my decision to explore Knoxville’s best kept secret: The Pilot Light. A small venue located next to Barley’s living in the Old City side of Knoxville behind bricks and adorned with a wooden sign in the window. Since starting college, I’d heard that the spot was the place to go to see local musicians, aspiring players, and a passion for music, but never took my chance until that night.
A sarcastic opener called Saddle set the night off with mocking quips towards the crowd, particularly in the direction of “fashionable” mustaches on faded workwear figures. I welcomed the analyzation, my first thoughts of the crowd being the same and their claim holding true as the crowd erupted into laughter at the reality. This was the place where hipsters could hide from football and, while I don’t have a mustache, I could relate in the sentiment. This felt safe. While Saddle was a nice introduction to the scene I’d been missing out on, the next band on the roster took me from enthused to ecstatic and it was all because of a Tuba.
Orange Doors is an up and coming psychedelic grunge band out of Charleston, South Carolina formed out of former marching band students. They’ve been commanding concerts for a few years now, having 4 tours alone in 2023; now leading their second tour of 2024 and first show of the tour at the Pilot Light due to the cancellation of their show in Atlanta because of Hurricane Helene. Regardless of a change of venue for a first show, they took no mind to it and made home just as excited.
Before the band went on, they decorated the stage with three crayons at the front while they dressed up in color block robes and felt hats resembling the stage décor before them, and a discount, last minute wizard costume for Halloween, but that presented nothing but intrigue. They had my attention before even a note was played. The biggest shock of it all came from one detail that was blatant to the eyes, but maybe not important to the crowd as it had been to me. The Tuba. Glistening under the lights, my eyes instantly took hold of the unlikely instrument and the two friends I had corralled to go with me stared at my crazed reaction with their own confused eyes. I explained to them quickly (loudly and erratically too) that I had never seen a Tuba on a stage outside of a jazz show and even then, at small jazz venues I trapesed through had never seen one on such a small stage. A trumpet? Sure. A Trombone? Occasionally. (they had one too by the way). A sax? Frequently. A Tuba? Not ever. Being such a massive instrument, no part of it can be easy to travel with and is inconvenient in a setting of logistics for small band touring. It represents a dedicated effort of love to give that much room and a statement alone to the color of the sound they craft.
They went on and instantly presented a rainbow of sound, bright, ecstatic fury from a moment of music. Their frontman would deliver daring vocals resembling the likes of 90s grunge singers but in a glowing way; with sharp energy to command a crowd behind crayons, his guitar a wand to mesmerize the room. The bassist bounced back and forth like standing outside an ice-cream truck waiting for his cone, the flavor groovy grape. The drummer reminded of Sesame Street’s Animal with his versatile beats and captured a childlike charisma with a gleaming smile. And of course, the man behind the Tuba and trombone, gave everything he had, wielding his instrument against the tower he lugged it up as if it was weightless. Their psychedelic charm was clear in their choices of switch ups and influence of jazz which instantly reminded me of the King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard concert I had seen a few weeks before where they meld many different genres, bouncing between them to present a unique set. Also noticeable was being perfectly in time, an added benefit to their marching band past, not missing a single moment given to them. Each member played as a team and built from the challenges of what it means to have color in music when sometimes music can feel monochromatic.
All I could think was, what’s the story behind this? Are they performing as characters? Why the crayons? Why the hats? Are they crayons? Are they wizards? What is going on here and how do I be a part of it? I theorized that with how each member carried a deep personality into their performances, each distinct and memorable as the other that they had to have some type of made-up lore behind them. Almost as if the stage was a Dungeons and Dragons campaign and they were rolling their dice. Did each color have some symbolism to who they were and why they were? My brain was overjoyed with a never-ending wonder of what was meant of the colors.
I grabbed their frontman after the show and practically bombarded him with questions. Ian was perfectly kind and happy to answer behind the merch stand and laughed when I asked about the story, if there was more to it, what it all meant. He simply told me the story of how they came together and how there was no deeper story besides him coming up with the get-ups and acquired pieces over time. So, I asked him, “Well what’s something you’d want people to know? If you had to give one word for your band? What’s the message?” And Ian replied, “Color.”
And while not the response or story I thought I’d receive; one thing ran true to me about the band and it’s that they were seamless in the way they commanded me to create through their sound and find the color beneath just what was in front of me. They reignited that child moment where you break the barrier between reality and imagination, something that unfortunately can be hard to find in your adult age.
So I suggest giving Orange Doors a listen and certainly catching them live. You won’t be sorry.
Where to find Orange Doors:
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