On a windy Wednesday night, under a hubbub on the precipice of spring, The Salt Shed thumps. Its heart is resuscitated by the small, industrious band Bad Suns’s polish and zeal, opening for FINNEAS.
Bad Suns is, to the rock world, an elder of elders. Having been on the scene for the past 15 years, in a world where the average lifespan is seven years, one wonders how their music perseveres so consistently.
Despite the average age of the band members being 31, their music still appeals to the familiar narratives of teenage romance paired with a sound of youthful anxiety. Hailing from Woodland Hills in Los Angeles, Christo Bowman, Gavin Bennett, and Miles Morris inject carefree passion and vibrant exuberance into the 3,300-strong crowd. This ethos was perfectly encapsulated by their opening rendition of “Swimming in the Moonlight,” presenting a classic honeymoon anthem with an alt-rock twist. “I couldn’t love you more if I tried,” Bowman sang in a sing-song rhythm.
Bad Suns sits in the corner of the mat of fame. Their adolescent relationship angst pop songs are just catchy enough to hum along to, yet not famous enough to arouse the young crowd in front of them. So it came as a surprise how entranced the audience of FINNEAS fans were when Christo Bowman began with “Swimming in the Moonlight.” The poetic, electro-rock ballad perfectly complemented Bowman’s substantial stage presence—15 years of practice and experience translated to charisma in every little movement.
“Baby Blue Shades” came on next, a song that puts a positive, tropical, carefree twist on the ups and downs of moving on. “Go on, forget me, I wish that you let me” is followed by the quiet, unspoken whispers of the heart: “I miss how you hold me, each kiss feels so lonely.” Throughout the performance, Bowman and Bennett looked the part of seasoned veterans—calculated head tilts, choreographed glides across the stage, and emotive facial expressions made them appear untouchable.
No movement wasted, no misplaced key, no doubt in their sound—this is the beauty of Bad Suns. They rely not on their reputation, but their indubitable passion and belief in their sound. Bowman continued, breathless at times but nevertheless unyielding, track after track.
“Daft Pretty Boys” speaks brightly of love and jealousy—how a person wishes their love of their life would stop wasting “time on daft pretty boys” that won’t love them back. “Life Was Easier When I Only Cared About Me” came right after, an equally poppy song that speaks of love at first sight, a sort of vernacular sequel to “Baby Blue Shades”: “you caught me by surprise, changed my destination… life was easier when I only cared about me.”
Bad Suns is an exemplary case of perfectionism, but that’s not to say it can’t have fun. In the middle of their setlist, Bowman took off his blazer, to the amusement and bewilderment of the majority female crowd. A song later, he stopped for the first time in the set: he wanted to play a “fun game.”
“I’m trying to see something,” he said to the Chicagoan crowd. “I was wondering what it would sound like if everyone in this crowd played our new song, ‘Communicating,’ all at once,” he enunciated with confidence and goodwill. Laughter followed the plausibly deniable attempt to increase Spotify listens—mixed with the poor signal in The Shed, it made for an entertaining and unique intermission to the deep thumps produced by drummer Morris all night.
Loud, abrasive, heart-thumping—no adjective can fully capture Bad Suns’s opening performance in Chicago. Under the eclectic kaleidoscopic lights of The Salt Shed, trio Christo Bowman, Gavin Bennett, and Miles Morris beautifully illustrated the appeal of little-known indie bands—and why we as the audience should never write them off. Bad Suns’s skill, commitment and labor over the past decade is evident in the atmosphere they create.
