Josh Homme
Earlier this week, rock outfit Queens of the Stone Age brought its new Catacombs Tour to the Paramount Theatre, transforming Seattle’s grand historical landmark into something far stranger and darker than unexpected — even for a band that hasn’t, in its career, shied away from the strange, dark, and unexpected.
In order to evoke the same mysterious atmosphere as the Paris ossuary that inspired this tour, the band has chosen to perform only in historical theaters — places where character, intimacy, and reverence abound. Even before the group walked out, the room vibrated with anticipation — the kind usually reserved for something sacred or dangerous. The stage design leaned heavily into an ominous, catacombs-like aesthetic. No giant screens, no unnecessary paraphernalia. What soon stood out most was the sheer confidence of the setlist, populated with B sides, rarities, and lesser-known fodder. Absent, in fact, were all the easy crowd-pleasers. The result was one of the most immersive and unusual performances the city is likely to see this year.
Frontman Josh Homme, sporting a slick maroon-colored suit and a black shirt with polka dots unbuttoned to reveal his chest, emerged bathed in amber light to loud cheers. Equal parts jester, ringmaster, and desert pirate, he balanced sardonic humor with genuine warmth. Sauntering through the crowd, he immediately took hold of its attention.
The concert was divided in three acts, each offering a completely different mood and set-up. For Act 1, songs were completely rearranged and new instruments were introduced, such as violins and a cello, to create a nearly reverential slow-burn feel. Opening with “Running Joke,” which was melded into “Paper Machete,” QOTSA immediately established that this was a deep dive into the band’s weirder, moodier side. “Kalopsia” played like a fever dream, Homme’s voice like pure melancholy. “Villains of Circumstance” followed, rich and aching.
Homme and Shuman
What makes Queens of the Stone Age so compelling live is its ability to manipulate tension. “Suture Up Your Future” felt appropriately cutting, while “I Never Came” came like a devastating emotional punch, the audience hanging on every word. All the while, Homme owned the scene, dancing around like a puppet without strings.
Act 2 brought a proper orchestra of local musicians onto the stage, adding gravitas and depth to each performed song. This bold choice seriously augmented the quality of the entire set. It opened with an ambitious medley stitching together “Someone’s in the Wolf,” “Song for the Deaf,” and parts of “Straight Jacket Fitting.” It was an outré but interesting mashup — three songs collapsing into one hypnotic, disorienting suite. The overall effect made the place become like a tunnel somewhere beneath Paris. It was unsettling, theatrical, and completely mesmerizing. The band has always excelled at controlled chaos, but here that chaos was meticulously crafted to maximum effect.
The set’s quieter moments proved equally powerful. “Mosquito Song” sounded more intimate; “Keep Your Eyes Peeled” rumbled with subterranean menace, while “Spinning in Daffodils” arrived as a sharp blow, with Homme holding a meat cleaver the entire performance.
The final act brought the band closer to its usual form. The only atypical element was, once again, the repertoire of lesser-known tunes such as “Hideaway” and the demanding “Fortress.” The former was performed as a duet with bass player Michael Shuman, who impressed fans with his powerful vocals. Homme sat down at a piano and delivered a beautiful version of the haunting “The Vampyre of Time and Memory,” smoking a cigarette and sipping tequila from a tumbler. The moment felt like a scene taken straight from a film noir. “People are who they really are in the dark,” he declared.
The set ended with “… Like Clockwork,” an appropriately piercing song to crown the evening. By the final notes, the applause wasn’t explosive so much as near-worshipful. People seemed reluctant to break the spell. Homme returned to the stage and reminisced about his time spent in Seattle and how his life changed when he met Mark Lanegan. He was otherwise oblique. “Seattle, I learned a lot from the musicians I met here,” he said. “I am not going to say who, because you will think I’m name dropping … but I know all of them.” He was then again joined by Shuman, with whom he performed an a cappella version of “Long Slow Goodbye.”
The show was a reminder that Queens of the Stone Age remains one of rock’s most adventurous live acts, even at a juncture in its career where it could comfortably rest on its laurels. It was a risky format that wound up feeling fitting for a band still pushing deeper into its own mythology. On this night in Seattle, it unearthed something extraordinary. It wasn’t purely a concert, but an experience — shadowy, hypnotic, and utterly unforgettable.