Sturgill Simpson and the Flying Mojito Bros at 1 a.m. in Seattle. (Photo: Garrett Dorfman)
Around 1 a.m. early Saturday morning, a couple hours after walking offstage at Seattle’s Climate Pledge Arena, Sturgill Simpson was posted up in a tiny club’s DJ booth with a Modelo in one hand and a pair of headphones around his neck, bobbing along to Hall and Oates’ “I Can’t Go for That (No Can Do)” while bodies dipped and swerved on a dance floor.
Yes, Johnny Blue Skies had another arena to play in Vancouver the following night, 16-hours from this moment. Sure, any reasonable headliner would’ve been asleep at the hotel door. But Sturgill is built different, so he went to a Flying Mojito Bros after-party.
Just another piece of lore writing itself in the Book of Sturgill, which at this point needs its own wing at the Country Music Hall of Fame (a building he’d probably refuse to walk into).
The photos Garrett Dorfman sent me are something else. Sturgill is rocking a black tee, a wall of psychedelic LED goo behind him, red light raining down from the rafters. Not bad for a guy who, fresh out of the Navy, spent a stretch seating tables at a Seattle-area IHOP long before he became America’s great electric troubadour.
Sturgill Simpson grabbed a Modelo and joined the Flying Mojito Bros in the DJ booth at an after-party in Seattle on Saturday night.
What a freakin’ legend! pic.twitter.com/tt8YRtqy6L
— brandon wenerd (@brandonwenerd) September 21, 2026
According to our source, the whole Dark Clouds band was already hanging around backstage when Sturgill wandered out, and he stayed in the booth until last call. The venue was tiny, and the crowd had thinned out by then, so the diehards still standing basically got a private party.
The band mingled with fans and Sturgill signed a couple of autographs. My source tells me he would have kept going if the club hadn’t started clearing the room at 1:45 after last call.
Garrett Dorfman, with permission
Sturgill Simpson and the Flying Mojito Bros at 1 a.m. in Seattle. (Photo: Garrett Dorfman)
Oh… a quick note on timing, since the Canadians in my replies caught an error in my tweet. I originally said this happened Saturday night. Saturday night he was busy playing until 11 at Vancouver’s Pacific Coliseum. This was the Friday after-party, so technically this was Saturday morning. In a way, it still counts as Saturday, much like how a 1 a.m. Taco Bell run counts as breakfast.
So, to recap: Sturgill closed an arena in his old Pacific Northwest stomping grounds, closed a club, crossed an international border, and played another arena about 20 hours later… at 48 years old.
If you’re not familiar with the Flying Mojito Bros, they’re a London duo who mix what they call “desert disco,” which means cosmic country, ’70s soft rock, and outlaw funk rebuilt over a thumping bed of acid house. It’s music made for a sweaty dance floor under the stars in Joshua Tree or Tucson, with good friends or a lovingly restored El Camino.
Garrett Dorfman, with permission
Sturgill Simpson and the Flying Mojito Bros at 1 a.m. in Seattle. (Photo: Garrett Dorfman)
Their own pitch is “Crosby, Stills and Nash at the Haçienda.” They rework Santana, ZZ Top, and the Eagles, and they’re a big deal in the Phish after-party world. They also played Diplo’s Honky Tonk stage at Stagecoach this spring.
Back in March, they dropped The Swamp Fox, a Tony Joe White remix album, built from reel-to-reel tapes out of the late swamp rock legend’s vaults. That album landed the same day as Sturgill’s Mutiny After Midnight, so frankly this late-night disco derby hang was overdue.
Speaking of Sturgill, I caught the tour at the Kia Forum on September 11. It clocked in at 29 songs, 8:10 to 11 p.m., with no set break. Before the band played a lick, he leaned into the mic and announced, “Haven’t played a note but already know it’s gonna be a f****** good night.”
Garrett Dorfman, with permission
Sturgill Simpson and the Flying Mojito Bros at 1 a.m. in Seattle. (Photo: Garrett Dorfman)
He was right. Knowing he had enough left in the tank afterward to close down a tiny club with two desert cowboy Englishmen in a DJ booth only makes me like him more.
My deeply considered analysis at the time was “What a freakin’ legend!” I stand by it. Sturgill is The Dude at this point, abiding in arenas by night and in DJ booths after hours, and he is very much our guy.
The tour hits Denver’s Ball Arena tomorrow night, then Kansas City, St. Paul, and Chicago. DJs in those towns, keep a Modelo cold in the booth. You never know.