MidFlorida Credit Union Amphitheatre, at its base, is just concrete and steel—a blank canvas awaiting color, sound, and spirit—waiting silently for life to pour into it. Last night, that life arrived in waves, vigorously reshaping the empty rows and vacant spaces, into something vibrant and deeply communal. Under the cooling and humid dusk, fans decked out in patchwork bandanas, Rasta flags, and tie-dye shirts filled the air with laughter and the unmistakable smell of herbal incense. Gen Z heads in bucket hats, danced alongside boomers wearing vintage Bob Marley tees, all united by reggae’s steady heartbeat and a promise of something greater than music alone. This was less a concert, and more a spiritual revival.
Around 9 p.m., as night settled comfortably over Tampa, a charming and unexpected opening act trotted onto the stage: Cocoa, Stick Figure’s beloved Australian Shepherd/ Golden Retriever mix and official tour mascot. Before the band had even appeared, fans had already showered the stage with nearly a dozen plush dog toys, turning the platform into a playful tribute. Cocoa, looking like a real-life teddy bear under the lights, happily investigated each offering as the crowd erupted in laughter and cheers. What could’ve felt like a simple gimmick became a genuinely delightful moment: warm, spontaneous, and endearing.
Cocoa aside, anticipation built steadily, each minute layering excitement until Stick Figure finally stepped into the glow. Their massive two-hour set hit like a tide: swelling, crashing, receding, then returning with more force. Lasers licked the stage and the crowd, while a three-tiered, LED panel stage pulsed behind the band, shifting between dreamy visuals, subtle animations, and full-on kaleidoscopic blasts. The dual drum setup—traditional percussion paired with bongos and other world instruments—kept the heartbeat going, while the talkbox effects on keys laced the whole thing in that surreal, almost digital haze that’s become part of their sonic identity.
Around five songs in, after opening with “Golden Intro,” and “Once In A Lifetime,” Stick Figure brought out Stephen Marley for a flipped rendition of “Natural Mystic,” in what felt like a moment no one expected (and one that isn’t listed on any setlist). The fresh reinterpretation featured a raised tempo as the harmonies stacked higher, and the delivery floated, like smoke rising from a campfire. It was one of those rare collaborations that feels like it was willed into existence by the crowd’s collective energy. Throughout Stick’s set, there wasn’t a single moment of drag. Even during the quieter interludes, the crowd remained locked in—either dancing gently, tossing more dog toys, or locking arms with strangers.
Following the surprise Marley duet, Stick Figure leaned confidently into the strength of their own catalog, building a setlist around beloved favorites. Early tracks like “Shine” and “Way of Life” settled over the amphitheater with a blissful ease, weaving their signature brand of sunny, rhythmic optimism into the night’s fabric. The emotional heartbeats of “All For You,” “What A Feeling,” and “Feel Like That,” provided multiple reflective moments, carrying the crowd deeper, and layering mellow grooves with intimate, heartfelt lyricism, weaving Stick Figure’s signature brand of sunny, rhythmic optimism into the night’s fabric. Yet, it was “World on Fire” that elevated the evening to its anthemic peak, uniting every corner of the venue, from the farthest lawn seats to the buzzing pit below. As thousands of voices rose together, Stick Figure once again affirmed their unique ability to transform a concert into a moment of shared humanity, fully codifying the level of fandom they’ve authentically cultivated through countless nights just like this one.
Before Stick Figure even took the stage, Stephen Marley delivered what could have easily been a headlining performance in its own right. If the band’s set was the ecstatic climax of the evening, Stephen’s was the powerful heartbeat that grounded the night’s spiritual current. An eight-time Grammy winner and reggae icon in his own regard, Stephen is spending the entirety of this tour honoring his late father Bob Marley’s 80th birthday, with a special birthday anniversary set. Backed by a skilled six-piece band, he didn’t just play the songs, he opened them like scripture, as the opening notes rang out clearly, immediately capturing attention and drawing the audience inward. The result was what felt like a sacred, soulful, living communion, where each song was delivered like scripture, carefully opened and shared with reverence.
Stephen’s arrangements of classics like “Three Little Birds,” “Exodus,” and “I Shot the Sheriff,” landed with precision, each one delivered with an expertise that honored their legacy without feeling dated, while the especially genre-blending “Sun is Shining” remix pushed boundaries. That last one, in particular, flipped the crowd on its head, transforming a gentle roots classic into an R&B-disco-electronic jam that had thousands jumping. It was sweat, smoke, sound, and spirit all tangled into one. His presence felt anchored and calm but heavy; a man carrying not just a name, but a mission. The stage was adorned with cultural symbols: a Rasta flag, a sacred rug beneath his feet, and the atmosphere of reverence throughout, with every movement feeling intentionally ordained. In other words, Stephen Marley’s set was not only performance, it was real presence; steeped in legacy and driven by purpose.
Earlier in the night, The Hip Abduction, from right here in Tampa Bay, did its job with grace. With two drummers—one traditional, one on hand percussion—two guitars, and one keyboardist, their setup allowed for a layered but accessible sound that felt like the breeze: humid, colorful, and laid-back. Their energy was infectious, and their timing perfect. Their set felt like easing into ocean water—first a gentle splash, then a bit deeper until you were fully submerged. They captured that casual spirit of Florida summers effortlessly, guiding the crowd gently toward the depth and intensity that Stephen Marley and Stick Figure would later unleash.
This show happened in waves with each act passing the torch with care. No competition, just continuation. By the time the final note rang out, the crowd didn’t surge for the exits; they lingered. Hugging, talking, still buzzing. Because the kind of energy that filled the amphitheater last night does not burn out quickly. Stick Figure brought the spectacle. Stephen Marley brought the spirit. The Hip Abduction brought the spark. And Coco—well, Coco reminded us that sometimes, joy is the most honest prayer there is.
