October 30, 2025 – The lights go down and somehow the show begins not on stage, but from the back of the crowd. Jon Batiste slowly emerges from the crowd, drum in hand, a subtle grin crossing the floor of the Metropolitan Opera House in Philadelphia, weaving between seats, greeting fans with small nods and quiet shouts.
Photos + Article by @a.j.kinney
The setlist opens with “Let God Lead,” a baptism of sound and soul, and the hall swells around him. From that communal beginning we plunge into “MAYBE” and “DO IT ALL AGAIN,” tracks that bend jazz-soul-whatever you call it into shimmering waves. The energy is playful, declarative Batiste and his band coax the crowd into an immediate allegiance. Then “Lonely Avenue” arrives, and you feel the mood shift: intimate, slightly aching. The city seems to tilt its shoulders with him.
Then, “FREEDOM” bursts horns, piano, vocals converge in a triumphant explosion of sound. I realized then we weren’t just witnessing a show, we were being inducted into something bigger. (Yes, I scribbled down the title for later). After that comes “I Got the Feelin’,” a cover-bow to raw soul energy, which landed with a grin on the audience’s faces.
Mid-set, Batiste unleashes “BIG MONEY” and follows with “PETRICHOR,” the latter painting its sonic landscape like the first rain after a dry summer. It’s art in kinetic form: the lights flicker, the keys shimmer, the brass whispers. We’re not just spectators, we’re immersed. Then he shifts gears into “WHATCHUTALKINBOUT,” and the crowd leans in, hanging on each phrase. “CRY” comes next, a slow slide into vulnerability, a moment to exhale.
Late in the set, “Hallelujah” (a haunting cover of the Leonard Cohen classic) arrives, and the crowd hushes. The lights soften. There’s a hush in the hall you could cut with a piano key. Then “Changes” (the Tupac Amaru Shakur cover) flips it rebellion meets reverence, tone shifting like day into dusk.
More than once Batiste walked off the stage into the audience, beckoning us closer, dissolving the stage‐audience divide. And after the formal set ended there was no abrupt blackout, no final bow that screamed “that’s it.” Instead we followed him outside into the Philadelphia night.
Yes that’s right. The encore played out on the streets. He emerged from the venue, keys still in hand, and with a handful of fans trailing, he led a spontaneous street session under the streetlamps. We sang “Let God Lead” again, quieter now but just as potent. We chimed “BIG MONEY” as passersby paused and joined in, caught by the sound. And the moment ended with Batiste and the crowd dispersing, each of us lingering in the cool air, hearts pumped, shoes muddy from the pavement.
If this was my first time seeing Jon Batiste, it sure felt like I was initiated into his world and Philadelphia got the honor of being the street-stage. In short, an unforgettable debut for me, full of flair, depth and communion.
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