by Viviana Mendoza
Dear Boy: Velvet Angst and Dreamy Precision
Opening the night was Dear Boy, the Los Angeles quartet whose brand of shimmering post-punk sounds like heartbreak pulled from a French film and re-scored for the Sunset Strip. There’s a sense of restraint and tension in their live set, where every reverb-drenched guitar and bassline feels deliberate and drenched in cinematic ache.
They opened with “Semester,” a familiar favorite, and quickly moved into a blur of hazy lights and steady rhythms. Tracks like “Anything at All“ and “Alluria“ brought out the soft-sheen glamour of shoegaze and new wave, while the live debut of “After All“ added an exciting, slightly raw edge to their otherwise polished delivery.
Frontman Ben Grey’s performance style is hypnotic; a little bit David Bowie, a little bit Julian Casablancas. He croons like someone keeping a secret and uses the stage like it’s a runway of melancholy. By the time they ended with “Hesitation Waltz,” the crowd was fully in their grip. Their set wasn’t the loudest or the flashiest but it was haunting, like a thought you try to shake but don’t really want to let go of.
Neon Trees: A Joyful Riot of Color, Emotion, and Big Pop Hooks
When Neon Trees hit the stage, the mood shifted from cool mystery to full technicolor. The band opened with “Skeleton Boy,” kicking off a set that felt like a fever dream. One where glitter, catharsis, and choreography all collided.
Frontman Tyler Glenn was electric. His voice sharp and elastic, his stage presence equal parts theatrical and tender. He strutted across the stage like a glam-rock preacher, occasionally pausing to hold the mic close and share a moment, a memory, a story. It’s rare to see a band that can scale from huge pop anthems to deeply personal ballads and still make the room feel like one shared heartbeat.
Tracks like “Teenager in Love,” “1983,” and “Animal” brought the crowd to its feet in full singalong mode, while deeper cuts like “Used to Like” and “Songs I Can’t Listen To” offered up heartbreak in glossier packaging. There’s a confessional quality to their catalog, it’s danceable, sure, but it’s also about reckoning and release.
One of the most captivating moments of the night came during “Bad Dreams.” The lighting dipped low, washing the stage in violet tones, and Glenn’s vocals slipped into that perfect space between a whisper and a confession. The crowd stilled, but my mind didn’t.
That song’s been on a playlist that wasn’t just background noise. Hearing it live didn’t feel like reopening a wound, it felt like brushing against something electric. Like someone tugging a memory back to the surface just to see if it still sparks.
And it did.
There was a softness in the way Glenn lingered on the chorus, like he knew exactly how much tension to let hang in the air. I caught myself smiling but not because it was sweet, but because it was sharp. Personal in a way that wasn’t loud, but still undeniable. It wasn’t about longing. It was about heat. About the kind of connection that doesn’t disappear just because it’s quiet.
Some songs flirt with the past. This one flirted with me.
As the set continued with “Heaven,” “El Diablo,” and a gorgeous acoustic version of “Your Surrender,” the band hit their stride between light and shadow. Neon Trees doesn’t shy away from the messy parts, they embrace them. And the crowd, a sea of glitter eyeliner, denim jackets, and throwback tees, welcomed every note.
They closed with an encore that included a surprise cover of “Don’t You Want Me” by The Human League, a pure crowd-pleaser that turned The Warfield into a shimmering retro dance floor and of course, “Everybody Talks,” which brought the night to a satisfying, high-energy end.
Through it all, the energy between the band and the audience was electric. At times, it was hard to tell who was lifting who the band or the crowd. It all felt reciprocal, like a current flowing both ways.
There’s something uniquely comforting about a show like this. It reminds you that nostalgia isn’t just about looking back it’s about honoring the feelings that shaped you and letting them live again for one more night.
Dear Boy may have stirred up the ache, but Neon Trees reminded us it’s okay to dance through it.
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