May 15th was one of those rare nights at The Lodge Room where the room felt sacred. Not because we were mourning someone who passed, but because we were saying goodbye to a living legend. After more than a decade of calling L.A. home, King Tuff—aka Kyle Thomas—was leaving the city to head back to his native Vermont. No funeral, no drama, just a farewell show packed with friends, fans, and deep cuts. Still, it carried that weird weight. A little celebratory, a little emotional. The kind of night where people linger a little longer in their hugs and the encore feels more like a thank-you note than a victory lap.
For those who haven’t followed his journey, King Tuff came up in Brattleboro, Vermont, playing in freak-folk outfits like Feathers before co-founding the stoner metal band Witch with J Mascis. From there, he broke out as a solo act under the King Tuff moniker, releasing Was Dead in 2008—an album that would later go on to cult status when it was reissued by Burger Records and Sub Pop in 2013. The self-titled King Tuff LP in 2012 pushed him further into the spotlight with tracks like “Bad Thing” and “Keep on Movin’,” all saturated in glittery garage rock energy. 2014’s Black Moon Spell solidified his role as the crown prince of weird indie rock, while 2018’s The Other showed us a more introspective side of Kyle, dialing down the glam but doubling up on the soul. Los Angeles was where a lot of that evolution happened. The scene here embraced him as one of their own, and in return, he gave us years of unforgettable music, collaborations, and shows that always felt like house parties that just happened to be sold out.
related: King Tuff & Fam- Burger-raucous at Constellation Room
And this farewell gig? It felt like a family reunion disguised as a concert. The night began with a series of short sets from friends and collaborators, each performing a couple of songs in honor of Tuff. The first act out the gate was billed as the Dirty Projectors, though what we actually got was a slowed-down, slightly absurd cover of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. The audience chuckled at first, then paused, unsure whether this was a sincere tribute or a joke. It honestly mirrored how I feel about RHCP in general—so much respect for their legacy and individual musicianship, but these days they toe that line between serious and satirical a little too often.
Next up was Rodrigo Amarante, who delivered a tender love ballad I couldn’t name, but it was enough to silence the room. His voice floated over the crowd like a lullaby, dedicated to Tuff, who watched from backstage. Rodrigo mentioned they used to be neighbors up in Mt. Washington, which—if you’ve been paying attention to L.A. music lore—might as well be Olympus, considering how many legends live up there. It became a recurring theme of the night: “I used to live down the street from Kyle.” Apparently Mt. Washington is where the magic lives.
Then came someone I actually recognized right away: Tim Heidecker. Yes, that Tim Heidecker of Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job! fame. He told a wild story about meeting Kyle at something called a “bass circle.” Not a drum circle. A bass circle. He casually mentioned Beck was there too, and they were all sitting on a massive lazy Susan. I half expected him to say they summoned a UFO, but instead, he launched into a set of original comedic songs. He introduced them as lost Simon and Garfunkel B-sides, which was both accurate and hilarious. Somehow, it all worked.
After Tim came Shannon Shaw of Shannon & The Clams and Hunx and His Punx. She played two swoon-worthy originals, holding the crowd in her velvet-gloved grip. And yes, she was joined by her famous little pup Spanky Joe, trotting along like a showbiz veteran. It wouldn’t be a Shannon Shaw appearance without him.
The last of the pre-Tuff performances came courtesy of Kevin Morby, who you might know from The Babies or his solo work. Kevin and Kyle have been close for years—they even shared an Instagram account at one point called Kevin & Kyle, where they’d document their songwriting sessions. Kevin played a few tracks inspired by their friendship, songs soaked in nostalgia and warmth. As he wrapped up his final number, the other performers returned to the stage for a group sing-along, turning the tribute into a full-on lovefest.
Then it was time. After a quick intermission, King Tuff took the stage, solo and acoustic. He greeted the crowd with a smile and some big news: he’d just finished recording a new album under his own imprint. It’ll be the first release on his label, and the record’s called Cozy & Twisted Vol. 1: Grandma’s Favorites. No release date yet, but he’d hand-pressed a limited batch of copies to sell that night. The DIY spirit is alive and well. He played a few selections from the record, including “Night Owl” and “It’s a Turtle’s World,” stripped down to their bare bones. The songs felt personal, almost like lullabies from another dimension.
Then came the electricity. Literally.
Kyle strapped on an electric guitar, brought out his band, and launched into “Dancing on You.” That’s when it hit me: I wasn’t leaving. I had a 7 a.m. flight to Kentucky the next morning and had originally planned to dip halfway through. But as soon as those opening chords rang out, that plan evaporated. I was glued to the floor like the rest of the crowd.
The set exploded from there. “Sun Medallion,” “Black Moon Spell,” “Headbanger”—one banger after another. Tuff and his band were locked in, feeding off the audience’s energy, which only got more feverish with each track. By the time they closed with “Anthem,” the room felt like it was on the verge of liftoff. And when they walked off The Lodge Room stage, the crowd erupted, refusing to let the night end. Chants of “Tuff! Tuff! Tuff!” echoed through the venue until he reappeared, visibly moved.
The encore was everything it needed to be. He came back out and tore into “Bad Thing,” the song that made a lot of people fall in love with him in the first place. He followed it with “I Love You Ugly,” a deep cut that says more in its title than most artists say in entire albums. It was raw, sincere, and a little messy—just like the best goodbyes. The only thing missing was “Alone & Stoned,” but I wasn’t mad about it. The rest of the night had more than delivered.
There’s a unique kind of magic that happens when someone leaves a place not because they have to, but because it’s time. King Tuff wasn’t chased out of L.A. by burnout or failure. He left on his own terms, surrounded by friends and love and noise. This show wasn’t an ending—it was a handoff to the next chapter. And even though Vermont may be where he goes to make his next batch of songs, a part of Kyle Thomas will always live in Los Angeles. In the garages and practice spaces, in the weird Mt. Washington jam circles, in the late-night diners after a gig when someone says, “Remember that King Tuff show?”
We’ll remember.
Until next time, Tuffy.
Words and Photos: Taylor Wong
