Supersister at De Bosuil, Weert – April 20, 2025: A Musical Resurrection on Easter Sunday

Easter Sunday afternoon in Weert. While most people outside are gathered around family dinners, quiet contemplation or cycling festivities surrounding the Amstel Gold Race, a different kind of gathering has taken place inside De Bosuil – a celebration of musical resurrection. A dedicated crowd has chosen this moment to witness one of the Netherlands' most idiosyncratic bands in full flight: Supersister, more alive than ever, despite all they’ve left behind.

It’s tempting to surrender entirely to nostalgia at a Supersister concert. But this afternoon, there’s more at play. Led by the ever-charismatic Robert Jan Stips, the band doesn’t merely revisit their past. They draw heavily from Nancy Never Knew, a new album that proves they’re still exploring boundaries. And yet, it feels inevitable: those who are here today aren’t only drawn by the music, but also by a need to revisit their own past.

For those who came of age in the early ’70s with a hunger for musical adventure, the Dutch prog scene was a magical expedition. Bands like Alquin, Solution, Focus, Kayak and of course Supersister brought complexity, playfulness  and a pinch of absurdism at a time when international acts were still rare on local stages. Supersister was challenging, yet close to home.

That feeling is resurrected today. The band opens with Mexico, unfolding like a dreamscape of unexpected textures and jagged turns. The Dadaist flair of their debut Present from Nancy is still vibrant. What follows is Never in a 100.000.000 Dreams, a standout from the new album. It has everything: rhythmic swagger, melodic beauty and a glance toward the future. As Stips explains, this album was a search for Nancy – the spirit of their early work – and they found her, forgotten in a lonely farmhouse amidst all the music that followed… but Nancy never knew.

Robert Jan Stips may be physically anchored to his keyboard setup, but he leads the band with the ease and style of a seasoned performer. His stage banter is light and humorous, often touched with self-aware wit – reminiscent of Thijs van Leer from Focus, who also knew how to speak to a crowd with charm rather than showmanship.

Musically, the current lineup impresses. Rinus Gerritsen – long the heart of Golden Earring – brings a warm, gritty bass tone that grounds the entire sound. But it’s drummer Leon Klaasse who repeatedly commands attention: razor-sharp, energetic and with an impeccable sense of timing that holds Supersister’s complex structures together. His playing is powerful yet controlled – the true engine beneath it all.

The audience – largely of a certain age – hangs on Stips’ every word. There are few younger listeners, which isn’t surprising. Supersister’s aesthetic – with its psychedelic layering, sudden shifts  and playful irony – demands a kind of cultural context, one you only really understand if you were there. Back when music was an adventure, not an algorithm.

Between songs, a sense of melancholy lingers. “Time flies,” Stips remarks – and he’s right. When the prog icons of your youth take the stage again, the joy is real, but so is the reminder of one’s own passing years. Some are no longer with us. And you feel that. Sacha van Geest – Supersister’s original flautist, who passed away in 2001 – was visibly absent tonight. No floating flute lines between keys and bass. A quiet, subtle loss – but palpable.

The set covers impressive ground. Out of the Darkness transitions seamlessly into the luminous Anywhere the Wind, a shift so smooth it feels as though time itself pauses. A Girl Named You is preceded by a hilarious anecdote about Corry Brokken and late-night recordings at the Phonogram Studio, before the mood turns reflective again with Memories Are New. Then comes Gerritsen’s bass solo – long, inventive, and utterly captivating. During this moment, his tasteful use of bass pedals comes into play: rich, resonant tones swell beneath the higher melodies, adding a near-organic depth. The interplay between fluid fretwork and these pulsing foot-controlled layers creates a soundscape that’s both technically impressive and emotionally rich.

The band shows that progressive rock in 2025 is far from a dusty relic – it’s a living art form. She Was Naked still sounds as disarming and strange as it did fifty years ago. The 60s Medley takes us back to the band’s earliest incarnation – The Provocation – with Stips alone evoking the power of a full orchestra from behind his array of keyboards. And I Am You Are Me / Transmitter from Retsis Repus fits effortlessly among these classics.

The concert ends with Radio. No bombastic farewell, just an intimate gesture. As if Supersister is saying: “We’re still transmitting. And you’re still listening. That’s enough.” And it is.

Had the concert been held on a different day, not Easter Sunday, De Bosuil would surely have been fuller. But those who were there witnessed something special: a performance that impressed musically, yes – but also touched something deeper. Time, memory, absence, and the enduring power of music to lift us, if only for a moment, above the ordinary.

Special thanks to Ela Williamson for her contribution to this review