“STANFORD! How are we feeling tonight?” shouted Guy Lawrence — half of the British electronic duo Disclosure — as lasers cut through the smoke and the crowd roared back at Frost Amphitheater. At his side was his brother Howard, the other piece of the act, less vocal but equally central, letting his presence be felt more through the music than through words. It was the kind of opening line that instantly set the night’s tone: this wasn’t going to be a background DJ set, but a full-bodied, communal experience. 

Since middle school, I’ve known Disclosure as the DJ duo that shaped a generation of electronic pop fans with hits such as “Latch” and “You and Me.” What I didn’t realize until seeing the word “(Live)” printed on the ticket is how different that label feels when applied to Disclosure. Though any musical artist in concert is by definition “live,” here, the distinction mattered differently. The DJs of Disclosure weren’t just spinning and mixing tracks. They were producing, improvising and performing in ways that blurred the line between studio precision and stage spontaneity. 

The night began with BAALTI, another DJ duo that leaned into South Asian fusion layered over club-ready beats. Their set lasted nearly 80 minutes, longer than I expected for an opener. It proved to be a slow build up to the main act — one that, at times, felt like it dragged on. Still, I found myself intrigued by BAALTI’s unique sound. Even if the music wasn’t familiar, it was refreshing — and if that runtime was the price of giving them exposure, so be it. When the headliners finally emerged, so did an immediate energy shift. The crowd followed orders perfectly when asked to “get low” before a beat drop, crouching down en masse before leaping back up in sync with the music, strobe lights and smoke. Later, Disclosure called for the audience to use their phone as flashlights, filling Frost with a galaxy of lights that pulsed with the music. Near the end of the evening, the DJ duo brought out a three-piece brass section (trombone, trumpet and saxophone) that added warmth and unpredictability to their sound. For me, these dynamic moments emphasized “(Live)” wasn’t just a tag, but an assertion of Disclosure’s artistry. 

I’ll admit: I didn’t know many of the songs. But even so, the performance didn’t feel like another traditional hit-centric DJ set, the likes of which can seem detached if you don’t recognize every track. Rather, there was a sense of flow in Frost, as if each song was designed to take the audience somewhere new. Disclosure’s more popular numbers — “Latch,” “She’s Gone, Dance On” and “You and Me” — naturally drew the loudest cheers, but I appreciated how the lesser-known numbers (such as “When a Fire Starts to Burn” and “No Cap”) added texture to the night. 

The crowd, largely composed of Gen Z and millennials, reflected the concert’s timing and setting. With the academic year just beginning at Stanford, Disclosure even acknowledged that most attendees were students. That meant the vibe leaned more youthful, sometimes to the point where I felt the audience wasn’t fully appreciating the depth of what they were hearing unless it was a hit. In that way, it reminded me of when I saw electronic artist Fred again.. at the same venue last year — another case where the music’s brilliance occasionally seemed lost on a restless, inattentive crowd.

And yet there was something peaceful about this Sunday-night show. Maybe it never reached the chaos of a festival set — but by putting their refined technique on display, Disclosure created a balance of spectacle and calm. During more low-key stretches, pulsing basslines and smooth synth keys drifted across the amphitheater, pulling the crowd into a near-trance. By contrast, the show closed with “You and Me,” a euphoric high that sent audience members into Monday morning with voices still ringing in their ears. 

Walking out of Frost, I kept coming back to that one word: “(Live).” Tasked with performing in the flesh, Disclosure isn’t just about pressing play. Rather, by incorporating jazz elements and deeper cuts, the Lawrence brothers seek to push sound into new directions — to make audience members part of the experiment, leaving you surprised by what an electronic duo can pull off on stage. Even without knowing most of the songs, I left with the sense that I’d witnessed something both meticulously crafted and fleeting — music that was meant to be experienced in the moment, that couldn’t be replicated again.