The Cat Empire

You could almost smell the paint drying in Valencia’s Roig Arena — the city’s sleek new performance space — but that didn’t stop The Cat Empire from tearing the roof off on their own terms. In a world of algorithm-approved sameness, the Melbourne genre-blenders showed up with horns blazing, rhythms colliding, and a live show that reminded the crowd what real musicianship looks like.

From the moment the band hit the stage, it was clear this wasn’t going to be a polite run-through of old hits. They came out swinging with “Oscar Wilde,” bathed in a wash of blue light and syncopated brass. Within minutes, Roig Arena — still ironing out its edges — felt like it had been around for decades. It’s hard to imagine a better christening than a Cat Empire set in full swing.

Let’s be honest: The Cat Empire are a live band first, a recording act second. And they know it. Songs aren’t so much performed as detonated. “Brighter Than Gold” exploded mid-set like a confetti bomb — wild, joyful, and impossibly tight. Even newer cuts from Bird in Paradise punched through the air with purpose. “Thunder Rattle” channeled Afrobeat with a salsa twist, while “Gold is Gone” slid into a half-time groove that felt like it could’ve come off a Fela Kuti B-side.

You don’t come to a Cat Empire show for subtlety — but damn if they don’t make chaos look precise. The band has morphed a lot over the years, shedding original members and shifting lineups, but on this stage, the evolution made sense. The chemistry is different now: slicker, jazzier, but no less incendiary.

Roig Arena’s smaller Auditorio space may be Valencia’s newest music temple, but it didn’t stay pristine for long. The 2,000-capacity crowd moved like they were in a Havana block party. Credit to the venue’s sound design: every bongo hit, trumpet blast, and shouted lyric cut clean through the mix without losing that sweaty live feel.

The lighting team earned their pay too — no lazy strobe abuse here. Each track had a visual identity, adding layers to the already genre-melting set.

Valencia turned out. And they didn’t just show up — they threw down. This wasn’t a crowd watching a show, it was a mass of bodies inside it. When frontman Felix Riebl dropped into a bilingual riff about “global rhythms and local souls,” it didn’t feel like banter — it felt like thesis. By the time “The Chariot” turned the arena into a bouncing sea of limbs, there wasn’t a dry shirt in the house.

Not every experiment landed — a reggae-tinged take on “Fishies” wobbled slightly — but the band recovered fast, snapping into a Latin-jazz stomp that reminded everyone why they’ve stuck around for two decades. They’re not here to be hip. They’re here to play.

In an industry full of auto-tuned playlists and rented vibes, The Cat Empire are still one of the last bands brave enough to put it all on the line live. Last night, they baptized Valencia’s newest venue with sweat, brass, and joy. And if this show is any indication, the Roig Arena won’t stay a secret for long.

Words and photos: Rhyan Paul