A mug of hot tea makes its way on stage with tonight’s performer, a quiet detail so unassuming it nearly vanishes.
Yet, it does not—tonight it is noticed, even studied, by thousands—the indoor venue of The Salt Shed roars. This is the perfect paradox at the heart of FINNEAS: whispered confessions of bedroom pop amplified for a crowd of thousands.
The 10-time Grammy Award-winning singer-songwriter and Los Angeles native brings palpable anticipation to the 3,300-person crowd in The Salt Shed. When Finneas Baird O’Connell, or FINNEAS, steps to the mic, his presence is unassuming yet poised. He does not present the charisma of excess or spectacle. Instead, he embodies a melancholic observer of love and fame.
The first track of his latest album For Cryin’ Out Loud!, “Starfucker,” begins. FINNEAS’s songwriting prowess is on full display as the crowd, already primed and implicated in the longing and heartbreak, latches onto his lyricism, chanting “You’re a fucking narcissist.”
FINNEAS’s setlist is one of contrast—tracks like “Lotus Eater” and “Cleats” are raw with lyrics drenched in the nostalgia of past selves and past lovers. The crowd sings along not because they have lived these stories exactly, but because they recognize themselves in them. They cry the lyrics back in response, pondering the people we once loved, those who went from familiarity to “mystery”, missing those who were once “always on your mind.”
Throughout the performance, FINNEAS oscillates between instruments, moving from keyboard to guitar with the fluidity of a virtuoso. His voice bends accordingly: rising, breaking, and smoothing out again, as if designed to be accompanied and accentuated by each key, chord, and fret.
“The Kids Are All Dying” injects a note of cultural critique: “What’s your carbon footprint and could you be doing more?” But what does protest sound like when framed within pop’s lush harmonies? The Salt Shed roars in response, sounding like something between a ballad and a war cry. The crowded space moves with him. Swaying becomes dancing, singing becomes shouting.
“Sweet Cherries” is the kind of song that seduces before it turns, opening less like a bedroom pop earworm and more like a cheery summer anthem. The track opens with FINNEAS reminiscing about how he “couldn’t take [his] eyes off you” and lamenting about how “she’ll break your heart with her hands tied.” The track then shifts abruptly into a lover’s fractured frustration: “What went wrong?” FINNEAS invites the crowd into his soul to revel with him in the ache of memory and to participate in his longing as if it were your own.
The night’s most striking moment comes with “Let’s Fall in Love for the Night.” The stage lights dim, thousands of phone flashlights ignite in the darkness in the image of a manufactured constellation. The song itself—delicate and yearning—lends itself to the fabulously fundamental contradiction that is FINNEAS’s music. Bedroom pop walks on a tightrope when it comes to live performance. Can a song about lonely souls survive when sung by thousands? FINNEAS certainly thinks so.
In this glimpse into a new iteration of an alternative headliner, FINNEAS stays true to his roots of bedroom pop. Amidst rich rhythmic instrumentals, soul-stirring songwriting, and astounding vocal range, he asks the crowd “who are you gonna call when it gets dark?” The audience is surely left wondering.
The artist’s beating heart bleeds beyond his sleeve. His emotions soak into lyrics, and his vocal range crashes like waves that soak the audience in heady heartache. FINNEAS’s music feels like a secret whispered between lovers, but it also yearns to be heard, felt, and shared as something vast.
