Thievery Corporation Brings 30-Year Groove to Belly Up in Aspen

“‘We wanted to make music where you didn’t know whether it was recorded today or a decade ago,’ said co-founder Rob Garza.”

That’s the promise hanging in the Aspen air this Saturday. Thievery Corporation, the D.C. duo celebrating thirty years of blending international sounds into a singular, sticky groove, is set to perform at the Belly Up venue. Thirty years isn’t just a milestone; it’s a geological epoch in electronic music. And yet, here they are, still relevant, still fusing dub, bossa nova, reggae, acid jazz, and lounge into something that feels both ancient and immediate.

Picture the scene at Belly Up. The bass thumps through the floorboards, vibrating up through the soles of your shoes. It’s not the sterile, four-on-the-floor kick drum of a typical EDM festival. It’s heavier. Slower. It’s got the sweat of a Jamaican dancehall and the velvet touch of a Brazilian bossa nova.

Garza and his partner, Eric Hilton, didn’t just stumble into this sound. They built it in the cosmopolitan sprawl of Washington, D.C., a city that offered plenty of places to see international live music and jazz. They invited artists into their headquarters, into their Eighteenth Street Lounge, expanding their circle of influence until their sound became a global tapestry. Tracks like “Lebanese Blonde” from their 2000 landmark release, The Mirror Conspiracy, didn’t just play on the radio; they fused dub-heavy beats with sitar playing and hip-hop, creating a collision of cultures that felt inevitable rather than forced.

“We couldn’t possibly incorporate all our tastes into the music, but we do it more than most,” Garza said.

And that matters because it distinguishes them from the trend-chasers. They aren’t making music for record labels or algorithmic playlists. They’re making music for people who listen. Hilton points to artists like The Clash, Fela Kuti, and Mau Chao as foundational influences — artists who were “for the people.” That political consciousness bled into their 2008 album Radio Retaliation, which paired socially aware lyrics with global collaborations. It wasn’t just background noise for a dinner party; it was a statement wrapped in a groove.

Now, they’re bringing that history to Aspen. Hilton admits that Saudado, released in 2014, is his favorite record because it pushed him into quieter, more creative stretches. He also highlights Symphonik, recorded with an orchestra, as evidence that their evolution continues. They aren’t resting on the laurels of Sounds from the Thievery Hi-Fi, their 1996 debut that established them as outliers by emphasizing organic instrumentation alongside electronic production.

The live shows are where the theory meets the pavement. They incite audiences into sweat-inducing dance, but they avoid the tropes of modern electronic dance music. It’s inclusive. It’s global. It’s a reminder that music doesn’t have to be new to be fresh.

Aspen is a town that often feels like it exists in a bubble, insulated by altitude and affluence. But Thievery Corporation’s set on Saturday isn’t about isolation. It’s about connection. It’s about the idea that a beat from Iran can sit comfortably next to a vocal from France, and that both can make you move.

The lights dim at Belly Up. The first note hits. It’s not a question of whether the music will hold you. It’s a question of how long you can resist letting it take over. The bass drops. The crowd sways. And for three hours, the distance between D.C. and Aspen disappears, leaving only the rhythm.