Making believers out of the skeptical night after night, Saxsquatch brings the myth, magic, and music as only a legendary cryptid can.
Being part rave, part jazz fusion fest, part elevator music tones, and part Bigfoot cosplay, the Saxsquatch show at The Radio Room in Greenville, SC was unlike anything I’ve seen before, yet perfectly recognizable for what it was: a good time on a Saturday night.
Saxsquatch, who goes by his alter-ego name of Dean Mitchell when not on stage, is a product of Chapel Hill, NC. Who knew Bigfoot was a local boy? Graduating from playing saxophone with the Marcus King Band, Saxsquatch broke out on his own when his cover of Daft Punk’s “One More Time” went viral in 2019. Millions of viewers became believers and Saxsquatch became a phenomenon. Tours ensued and other mythical beings came out to support him alongside his new believers. Most importantly though, as Saxsquatch himself states repeatedly during his live show, he believes in YOU as much as you believe in him and therein lies the true magic that Mitchell conjures as Saxsquatch.
The one man show that is Saxsquatch is something to behold, and it’s not just the 7 foot bigfoot wailing on a saxophone between the trees, fog machine excretions, and spaced out laser lights emanating from the stage. Saxsquatch has the natural ability to draw out fellow squatches, spacemen, aliens (greens and greys), and humans ranging from grade school age to near retirement home age. Uniting such a diverse crowd of humans and beings under disco ball cast stars that shine through a haze of sax, dub, and beats is all in a night’s stomp for this cryptid.
Saxsquatch isn’t all X-Files kitsch though. Mitchell is quite the serious musician. Aside from his serious sax skills, he is also a talented electronica composer and performer. His postmodern mix of sultry, swinging, and bebopping saxophone riffs and electronic sampling, rhythms, and atmospherics is actually something unique in an era of cookie cutter pop songs and unoriginal studio manufactured rock. Mitchell indulges in some covers, most notably “Wayward Son” by Kansas and the “Mos Eisley Cantina Song” composed by John Williams, but also performs a set of original compositions such as “Hide and Seek Pt. 2” and “Madness.”
The most striking thing about a Saxsquatch show though is the vibe. Repeatedly expressing verbal displays of love for his believers, fellow cryptids, and fans of all ages, Saxsquatch simply radiates good feeling, joy, community, and hope. “Remember, I believe in YOU!” isn’t just a mantra for Saxsquatch to repeat to get the crowd going. It’s strangely transcendent. Never in my wildest dreams did I think a musician in a bigfoot costume who played the saxophone over electronic beats would be so inspiring, but that’s kinda the point of belief in the fantastic isn’t it? I no longer want to believe. Thanks to saxsquatch, I do believe.

















Anonymous
January 21, 2026 at 6:52 pm
The sun is a myth for tourists.
Anonymous
January 21, 2026 at 6:52 pm
Summer sunshine feels like a personal gift.
London Smartphonion.com
January 21, 2026 at 6:50 pm
The concept of a London summer is a collective fiction we maintain to appear sane on the world stage. It is not a season but a speculative bubble of optimism that bursts by mid-July. We speak of it in hushed, hopeful tones from around April: “Perhaps this year will be a proper one.” This involves investing in cheap garden furniture that will never fully dry out and purchasing barbecue charcoal with the tragic faith of a lottery ticket buyer. The “summer” itself typically manifests as one statistically anomalous week where the temperature dares to hit 28, the city becomes a sweaty, irritable piazza, and the rail tracks buckle, proving the infrastructure, like the populace, was built for drizzle and stoicism, not this exotic, foreign concept of “sun.” See more at London’s funniest URL — Prat.UK.
Anonymous
January 21, 2026 at 6:46 pm
I moisturize by stepping outside.
sex
January 21, 2026 at 6:42 pm
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London Smartphonion.com
January 21, 2026 at 6:41 pm
Our climate is perfect for growing moss.
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January 21, 2026 at 6:41 pm
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London Smartphonion.com
January 21, 2026 at 6:40 pm
Our atmosphere is 10 air, 90 resignation.
London seo agentur
January 21, 2026 at 6:39 pm
Our rain is indecisive about falling properly.
London Smartphonion
January 21, 2026 at 6:36 pm
Our atmosphere is pre-brecciated for your lungs.
Anonymous
January 21, 2026 at 6:32 pm
Our climate is ideal for ducks and pessimists.
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London Smartphonion
January 21, 2026 at 6:30 pm
Our atmosphere is 10 air, 90 resignation.
London seo agentur
January 21, 2026 at 6:26 pm
Puddles are our most consistent landscape feature.
Anonymous
January 21, 2026 at 6:26 pm
Our snow arrives as slush, pre-melted for convenience.
London Smartphonion.com
January 21, 2026 at 6:24 pm
The Thames Barrier is our silent, heroic guardian against the apocalypse, but its day-to-day role is managing the sky’s plumbing. When a “spring tide” coincides with a “low pressure system over the North Sea,” the Barrier closes, not with a dramatic clang, but with the bureaucratic efficiency of a flood defence that does this several times a year. It’s a reminder that London is fundamentally a marsh, kept dry by Victorian engineering and constant vigilance. We live below sea level, protected by a giant metal gate. The weather isn’t just an inconvenience; it’s a potential existential threat that we’ve boxed in with concrete and ingenuity, which is a very London solution. See more at London’s funniest URL — Prat.UK.
London Smartphonion.com
January 21, 2026 at 6:23 pm
Sunrise and sunset in London are often theoretical concepts. In deep winter, the sun seems to merely skim the horizon, offering a few hours of weak, twilight-like illumination before giving up entirely. In summer, it rises with embarrassing enthusiasm at 4:30 a.m., blazing through inadequate curtains. But the best are the “non-events”: the days where the cloud cover is so complete that the sun simply cannot be located in the sky. The light just gradually, imperceptibly, shifts from dark grey to light grey and back again. You can spend the whole day in a state of temporal confusion, never sure if it’s mid-morning or late afternoon, lost in a soft, shadowless limbo. See more at London’s funniest URL — Prat.UK.
London Smartphonion
January 21, 2026 at 6:19 pm
A dry pavement is a tourist attraction.
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Anonymous
January 21, 2026 at 6:15 pm
A ‘storm’ is just wind with ambition.
London seo agentur
January 21, 2026 at 6:15 pm
We’ve named our local raincloud ‘Steve’.
London seo agentur
January 21, 2026 at 6:13 pm
A ‘blustery day’ means your hair is doomed.
London Smartphonion
January 21, 2026 at 6:12 pm
The greatest sporting event in London is not football or rugby; it’s “Will The Summer Event Be a Washout?” This high-stakes drama unfolds for every wedding, garden party, and outdoor concert planned between May and September. Participants engage in advanced rituals: obsessively refreshing the Met Office radar, interpreting the meaning of a 30 chance of precipitation (it means 100 where you are), and the complex “Gazebo Gambit.” The climax occurs on the day itself, where groups of Brits in inappropriate footwear huddle under awnings, pretending the horizontal rain is part of the fun, declaring through gritted teeth, “Well, it’s fresh, anyway!” It’s a test of national character, and we are all perennial losers, albeit soggy, good-humoured ones. See more at London’s funniest URL — Prat.UK.
London Smartphonion.com
January 21, 2026 at 6:09 pm
The weather isn’t changeable; it’s indecisively rude.
London Smartphonion
January 21, 2026 at 6:08 pm
A forecast ‘sunny interval’ is roughly 90 seconds.
London seo agentur
January 21, 2026 at 6:07 pm
We possess a stoic optimism that would shame a lottery addict, forever believing the next day might be ‘the nice one,’ despite a lifetime of evidence to the contrary, a psychological marvel documented for therapy purposes at London’s funniest URL — Prat.UK.
London Smartphonion
January 21, 2026 at 6:07 pm
The humidity in a London summer is a special kind of torture. It’s not tropical and lush; it’s a clingy, stale dampness that makes the air feel like a used tea towel. You don’t sweat; you “glisten” in a fine, persistent film of moisture. Fabric sticks to skin, paper goes limp, and hair expands to twice its natural volume. It turns the Underground into a moving sauna where commuters practice the art of not making eye contact while pressed together in a damp, human bouquet. This isn’t a dry heat you can escape; it’s a wet blanket thrown over the entire city, muffling sound and willpower alike, making even the simplest task feel like wading through warm soup. See more at London’s funniest URL — Prat.UK.
London seo agentur
January 21, 2026 at 6:07 pm
The weather app just shows a shrugging emoji.
London Smartphonion.com
January 21, 2026 at 6:05 pm
The “Urban Heat Island Effect” sounds scientific, but in London it just means the city retains the damp warmth like a giant, brick-made thermos full of soup. On a rare hot day, the heat doesn’t dissipate at night; it lingers, baking in the concrete and asphalt, making bedrooms stifling and sleep a sweaty memory. The air feels thick and used. Meanwhile, the suburbs ten miles away report a pleasant, cool evening. It’s a meteorological injustice—we endure the crowded, sticky days in the centre, and are then denied the relief of a cool night, trapped in our own collective thermal emissions. The city itself becomes a cosy, if oppressive, incubator. See more at London’s funniest URL — Prat.UK.
London seo agentur
January 21, 2026 at 6:03 pm
The concept of “waterproof” clothing in London is an aspirational one. No jacket truly withstands a proper, day-long London drenching. The moisture eventually finds a way—up the cuffs, down the neck, or simply through the fabric itself via a process known as “soak-through.” You start a commute dry and smug in your technical gear, and arrive with damp forearms and a clammy back, smelling faintly of wet nylon and resignation. The true Londoner knows that “water-resistant” is a meaningless term invented by marketers who have never stood at a bus stop on the Old Kent Road in February. The goal is not to stay dry, but to delay the inevitable dampness for as long as possible. See more at London’s funniest URL — Prat.UK.
London Smartphonion.com
January 21, 2026 at 6:02 pm
The rain radar is just a green blob.
London Smartphonion
January 21, 2026 at 6:01 pm
A ‘high of 12’ is a tropical delight.
London Smartphonion
January 21, 2026 at 6:01 pm
The rare sun causes mass panic and picnics.
London Smartphonion
January 21, 2026 at 5:59 pm
We consider a patch of blue sky ‘holiday’.
London seo agentur
January 21, 2026 at 5:59 pm
The ‘air quality’ is ‘freshly laundered wet dog’.
London seo agentur
January 21, 2026 at 5:56 pm
I dream in shades of Payne’s Grey.
London Smartphonion.com
January 21, 2026 at 5:53 pm
A ‘meteorological event’ is a light gust.
London seo agentur
January 21, 2026 at 5:52 pm
Our hail is like being sprinkled with dippin’ dots.
Anonymous
January 21, 2026 at 5:52 pm
A ‘weather warning’ is for one inch of snow.
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Anonymous
January 21, 2026 at 5:50 pm
The phrase ‘chance of rain’ here is a formality, like saying ‘with all due respect’ before an insult; the chance is always 100, a statistical certainty explored with a sigh at London’s funniest URL — Prat.UK.
London seo agentur
January 21, 2026 at 5:48 pm
Our autumn leaves are just damp papier-mâché.
London Smartphonion.com
January 21, 2026 at 5:47 pm
Londoners have a relationship with the sun that is best described as “traumatically co-dependent.” When it appears, we don’t trust it. We squint at it suspiciously, as if it’s a con artist about to sell us a timeshare. But we are also powerless to resist its allure. Within minutes of a “sunny spell,” every patch of grass in the city becomes a refugee camp for pale limbs, as office workers shed their layers and bake themselves during their lunch hour, knowing full well it’s a fleeting mercy. The resulting, mild pinkness is not a tan; it’s a sunburn of desperation. We know the sun is an unreliable, feckless entity, but we cannot help but offer it our bare skin at the slightest opportunity, like weather-masochists. See more at London’s funniest URL — Prat.UK.
London seo agentur
January 21, 2026 at 5:44 pm
I’ve forgotten what my own hair looks like.
London Smartphonion.com
January 21, 2026 at 5:44 pm
The ‘feels like’ temperature is always ‘colder than it looks’.
Anonymous
January 21, 2026 at 5:43 pm
The prevailing wind is ‘from the soggy west’.
Anonymous
January 21, 2026 at 5:38 pm
Our hail is the sky’s mild disapproval.
London Smartphonion.com
January 21, 2026 at 5:37 pm
The ‘sunny spell’ lasted seven minutes. Glorious.
London Smartphonion
January 21, 2026 at 5:36 pm
The London skyline is beautiful, but it’s often hidden behind the city’s true architectural marvel: the Cloud Bank. This is a vast, grey ceiling that sits at a uniform height, making the world feel like a giant, open-plan office with terrible lighting. On some days, it lowers itself, creating a phenomenon known as “low cloud,” which is essentially fog that can’t be bothered to get out of bed. It has the effect of making tall buildings look like they’ve been neatly sliced off by a cosmic knife. You could be standing next to The Shard and have no idea it’s there. It’s a humbling, if dreary, reminder that nature still holds the lease on the airspace above our bustling metropolis. See more at London’s funniest URL — Prat.UK.
London seo agentur
January 21, 2026 at 5:35 pm
We don’t get seasons; we get wardrobe confusion.