It's basically alive at this point, with its own "personality," vibes and general air of significance. That concept was made even more abundant during the 2025 festival, as the event's booking habits, trend-seeking tendencies and even inherent downsides and deficits took shape like never before. Innings isn't perfect at all, but it is a fest where artists come to bring out the old favorites, try out a few new things and maybe go big as demanded by these large-scale festivals.
So, as Innings further cements its role in the Valley, let's look at these blurbs as more than just concert reviews. These write-ups trace the life and personality of this fest, and by seeing how each band shined (or even fell short), we can better grasp why Innings continues to feel like an old friend with which we've formed a rather complicated but generally pleasant relationship. It's always pretty good, even if things sometimes go off the rail at Thanksgiving dinner.
With any luck, we'll see everybody at the next Innings Fest.
Friday, Feb. 21
Neon Trees, 2:50 p.m. at Right Field
Neon Trees approached their set at Innings Fest knowing they had a sizable repertoire dating back to circa 2010. Given this very dynamic, Neon Trees emphasized an enjoyability and liveliness that made it easy to groove to regardless of just how familiar any single audience member was with the band’s discography. It helped that frontman Tyler Glenn’s expressiveness on stage, interactivity with the crowd and charismatic vocal stylings make him agreeable to both the eyes and ears. In spite of this, from hearing their mix of older and newer hits, it was instantly clear that Neon Trees have a rather specific alt pop sound they haven’t deterred from much over the years. As such, the set became a bit monotonous toward the end despite general interest. Singles “Sleeping with a Friend” and “Cruel Intentions” could have been sibling tracks despite being released a full decade apart.
Perhaps that’s for the best, though. At the front of the crowd, several long-time fans were dancing and singing the afternoon away, and the band clearly have a pronounced niche to fill. Yet even to the general public, there were still several bright spots. Glenn’s covers of Chappell Roan’s “Pink Pony Club” and “Don’t You Want Me” by The Human League were excellent renditions. (His interpolation of “Human Nature” by Michael Jackson worked slightly less, but it was still an interesting addition to the day.)
Of course, hearing the crowd sing along in near-perfect harmony to “Everybody Talks” was an especially dazzling moment of the day, and that sole instance demonstrated a power that transcends the band’s need for an updated sound. Basically, we’re saying they still brought the goods regardless. Shi Bradley
Slightly Stoopid were a (rather specific) crowd favorite at Innings Fest 2025.
Neil Schwartz Photography
Slightly Stoopid, 3:55 p.m. at Home Plate
Another staple of the 2000s rock scene, Slightly Stoopid brought a mellow energy that worked well for a midday set. Emphasizing a groovy mix of reggae and rock, the band’s songs blended seamlessly into one another (for better and worse), with many similar instrumentals, hard-to-decipher lyrics and a general lack of transition points. It’s also worth noting they were one of the few sets of the first day to end early (they departed the stage around 4:45 p.m.)Even with that, the set’s core intention was clear: It was a primo time to just chill out and groove. Again, the songs were hard to distinguish from one another, but the band managed to create interesting textures and nuance throughout to bring folks into the fold. Moreover, the song-by-song visuals (which alternated between fun and engaging and downright disorienting) were a solid effort by the band to further generate vibes for each track.
Still, the brightest point was an entertaining rendition of 50 Cent's "P.I.M.P." from guest rapper Chali 2na. That cover was clearly a favorite among true fans — many a bit older, but a fair amount of college kids — with people wearing Kandi bracelets spelling out specific album and song titles, and everyone jumping and swaying to the music. One woman even attempted (rather unsuccessfully) to start a mosh pit.
Overall, it was an enjoyable enough set, but judging from the crowd, it seems that Slightly Stoopid is a band best enjoyed with a hint of nostalgia (and/or marijuana).SB
The-All American Rejects, 5 p.m. at Right Field
I’ve spent 20-plus years with a certain perception surrounding The All-American Rejects. Namely, that they were this heart-on-sleeve emo-ish band with perpetually boyish good looks. Seeing them at Innings Fest, though, quickly smashed such perceptions with a Louisville Slugger.
The Rejects are a rather weird and decidedly blue band that operate far beyond overly earnest tunes like “Swing, Swing” and “Move Along.” For one, they leaned into the baseball theme by 1) entering to Ozzy Osbourne’s terrible cover of “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” and 2) wearing matching baseball uniforms. Frontman Tyson Ritter took it even further still, growing a ‘70s-style goatee (a la Gorman Thomas) to play the part, which he said left him “sleeping on the couch for a week.”
The rest of the set followed suit: a rollicking performance of “Gives You Hell”; an extended diatribe either in favor of or insulting onlooking kayakers; and, perhaps the piece de resistance, some generally great audience interactions, including one impromptu, extra salacious ditty. None of this “ruined” the actual set — those early 2000s gems (one of which Ritter said “you may recognize…from the early 2000s rom-com ‘The House Bunny’”) were a heady rush of nostalgia. No weird joke could ever take away from the sheer retromania that imbued every second of the show.
But to see AAR also be so markedly different from my own “vision” proves that these crowd-satisfying acts that routinely define Innings Fest can also do new and surprising things and show us how our relationships with artists can grow and evolve. Sure, that evolution meant a little more toilet humor, but I now appreciate AAR in a way that feels exciting and makes the band feel novel in the jukebox of my brain.
Thank you, AAR, for making this boy feel old AF and also rather rejuvenated in one glorious experience that should define every festival like Innings. Chris Coplan
Incubus, 6:05 p.m. at Home Plate
If The All-American Rejects demonstrated that nostalgia can be a complicated experience, Incubus proved it’s also just like rocking a comfortable pair of pants. Which is to say, their pre-headlining Friday set was an exercise in how to give hungry fans exactly what they wanted from the realm of 2000s indie rock. Songs like “Wish You Were Here,” “Anna Molly,” and “Megalomaniac” each hummed with the exactness of their recorded versions. Where that’s often irksome during other concert events, with Incubus it just felt perfectly right. These are already dense, intricately crafted songs, and to see them shine the same way on stage feels like a chance to better connect with the Incubus catalog. Sometimes you want what you heard on CD in 1998 because it is so perfectly enshrined in your memory, and why would you ever muck up such magic? Even their cover of The Beatles’ “Come Together” felt like something from a familiar house band at your local pub.
They did toss in some minor left turns, including snippets of Phil Collins’ “In The Air Tonight” and Portishead’s “Glory Box,” which felt like added texture to their set. Yet the appeal was always the stuck-in-amber quality to the songs, and how this nostalgia wasn’t a cheap rush because it always felt pure and earnest. Incubus clearly grasp that what they did was already groundbreaking enough some 25-plus years ago, and they honor those songs (and fans' individual relationships) with a recommitment across each new performance.
You don’t have to reinvent the wheel when you’re this tight and consistent, and sometimes hearing the same thing again and again just reminds you of the life-altering power of one good song (or a dozen). CC
The Black Keys, 7:25 p.m. at Right Field
I really wanted to hate The Black Keys. For their long-running feud with Jack White; how drummer Patrick Carney nearly ended his marriage with Michelle Branch; and that weird private concert they held for crypto bros (and their equally weird response defending said show). However, surrounded by throngs of drunken carolers, it didn’t take long for The Black Keys to show why they were ever beloved in the first place. (Maybe just not enough to tour?)Sure, maybe public perception has shifted in recent years, but the Keys are as sharp as ever. Songs like “Fever,” “Gold on the Ceiling” and “Lonely Boy,” among several others in a robust enough setlist, had the heft, slickness and bluesy charm that made them so cool circa 2010. Like other bands during Friday, the Keys weren’t exactly innovative. But that’s not the goal when you can deliver the goods with precision and maintain a keen understanding of your role in these proceedings (i.e., letting drunk bros live out their rock 'n' roll dreams before the emo fest that was Fall Out Boy).
Did a solid set somehow absolve the Keys of their many wrongdoings? Not really — the band still don’t sit quite right in my mind, and it’s hard to ignore their bad behavior. Sometimes, though, we have to grapple with dumb dudes making good music, and what value or significance we attach to that experience. For me, it’s one where my unease about this set will be a reminder that fun can be had in the right context, and that we can always hold artists accountable for their bad decisions. This set didn’t make me a proper fan, but I can still give the Keys credit for being good in this specific enough niche they’ve carved for themselves.
Because love and hate isn’t some binary, and maybe I’m just appreciative for a quick distraction and the freedom to slam a Coors unbothered. CC
Fall Out Boy, 8:45 p.m. at Home Plate
The headliner of any festival always draws the largest volume of crowd anticipation. That was undoubtedly true for Fall Out Boy, who entered Innings with the loftiest of expectations. With numerous hit singles and a career spanning some two decades (that'd be 2005’s “From The Cork Tree” to 2023’s “So Much (for) Stardust,”), everyone knew the band could deliver something memorable. Reality, it would seem, was only just enjoyable and satisfactory.If nothing else, frontman Patrick Stump’s voice sounded precisely as it does across Fall Out Boy’s eight albums, and in many cases, even more robust and evocative. He certainly had his low moments (the softer vocals on “Dance, Dance” and “I Don’t Care” were often buried under the sounds of the band), but he reached energetic heights with “Immortals” and “Thnks Fr Th Mmrs.” Joined by bassist Pete Wentz, guitarist Joe Trohman and drummer Andy Hurley, Stump set the tone for a dynamic and euphonious performance.
Aside from handing out solid praise for Stump, we also have to applaud the band’s theatrical stage show. There were flames and fireworks that punctuated the entirety of their hour-long set. Meanwhile, the cheerleaders wearing American-flag “Psycho” masks during “Uma Thurman” and “The Kids Aren't' Alright” brought the energy up another level. Wentz even threw a guitar pick to a longtime fan who had brought his daughter to the show in a decidedly wholesome moment. (And who doesn’t want wholesomeness with their emo rock?)
And speaking of Wentz, he was decidedly un-wholesome by expertly playing a flamethrower bass guitar during “The Phoenix.” But there were plenty more theatrics from there, and they ended the night by bringing out a bunch of balloons (that seemingly got stuck in the stage lights, and so it was hard to tell what the intention was there) and a giant futon to take a crowd selfie “on the couch.” In short, they were moments that balanced a sense of grandiosity with the familiar, a dual-wielded approach that worked well within the specific confines of FOB fandom.
Speaking of the audience, it seemed that much of the crowd considered themselves more fans of Fall Out Boy’s radio tracks than the band’s otherwise sturdy catalog. During cuts like “My Songs Know What You Did in The Dark” and “Sugar, We’re Goin’ Down,” it was amazing to hear all the audience's voices as well as see hands clapping and fists pumping. However, with many other moments, the crowd simply fell flat thanks to a distinct lack of familiarity with some songs. When Stump pointed the microphone at the crowd during the “Folie A Deux” lead single (“I Don’t Care”), it seemed like many people didn’t really care that much.
Additionally, tracks taken from their most recent album seemed unfamiliar to the majority of the audience — though the crowd still seemed to enjoy them regardless. However, during the last two songs (“Centuries” and “Saturday,” which pushed the band into overtime), the crowd was screaming along, jumping and dancing with pure joy and enthusiasm. At one point, Wentz even grabbed hands with the audience (which proved a big enough gesture considering he looked slightly bored at times during the performance).
With one finale crescendo of fireworks, the cheers lingered for just a few extra seconds, signaling a job done well enough. Fall Out Boy’s set wasn’t perfect — lots of awkward missteps mixed with fantastical highs — but sometimes reality can’t fully meet your expectations. At that point, you just have hope for entertaining enough, and that was the band’s true scene. SB
Saturday, Feb. 22
The Kills, 3:20 p.m. at Right Field
On Friday, Tyler Glenn of Neon Trees made a point that speaks to a larger trend regarding Innings’ booking choices: “We’re not a band meant to be seen in the daylight.” Whereas that group responded in kind with a bold, energetic set intended to bridge the gap, The Kills leaned into what brought them to the dance. And that was basically two weirdos (Alison “VV” Mosshart and Jamie “Hotel” Hince) stomping around on an empty, oversized stage, trying to turn a sunny day into a dark club gig with their moody, stripped down garage rock. It was clear that even if the setting was perhaps strange, The Kills never let it bother them as they brought an intensity and swagger that made the proceedings much cooler than the family barbecue vibes that dominated many of the fest’s early sets. The unbothered tendencies of this duo are exactly why they’ve had such a lengthy career, and even if people didn’t know all or most of their songs, it’s hard to care when the Hince’s hooks were that hot and Mosshart maintained a barbed charisma that was undeniable. All the best bands operate beyond the settings of any stage — The Kills played with the same sneer, joy, prowess and emotionality that proves them to be totally committed and unrelenting.
The Kills' magic came not just with their ability to create the space they wanted, but that they made it so easy for everyone else to pretend in kind. To lean into a hacky, tired cliche, they absolutely killed it, folks. CC
Gary Clark Jr., 4:25 p.m. at Home Plate
Even just five or six years ago, it felt like Gary Clark Jr. was going to be huge. That’s not to say he’s not already a big deal — 2019’s “This Land” won the Grammy for Best Contemporary Blues Album, and last year’s “JPEG Raw” is a generally solid record. Rather, he just isn’t the super duper star I would have assumed him to be already. Not that Clark seems to know or even care, and his mid-day Saturday concert was every bit the barn-burner you’d expect from modern blues rock royalty. For one, it’s the unassuming air that Clark presents — like a story he told about buying a blue bucket hat despite his wife’s misgivings, and how the Phoenix heat validated his choice. That small little tale forged a sturdy personal connection that allowed Clark and his band to then blow our minds with some of the most intense playing I’ve seen in some time.
Not to diminish anyone else I’ve ever watched perform, but you could practically see Clark release his mind into the great ether and then collect these sizzling licks from the air as if he was summoning some eldritch snake god. The rest of the band either backed up Clark or got their own time to transcend musically, and either way it felt like we were all connecting in some deep and hugely personal way.
No matter where I moved in front of the sizable Home Plate field, I could never shake that sense that Clark and company were trying to commune as closely and intimately with every single attendee. It was a show of the utmost honesty and sincerity, and that this powerful connection happened during a hot day in some random park only imbued the event with all that more power and significance.
Maybe Clark is “smaller” than a man of his giant-sized skill and personality should be at this point in his career. But when he still brings something wholly refreshing, as well as this unrivaled ability to engage the audience, a lot of life’s context fades and you sort of bask in the glow of genuinely great blues rock. The man is a true bluesman, and I’ll live for some time knowing he connected with each of us through each excited note and wail of the guitar. CC
Jack's Mannequin, 5:30 p.m. at Right Field
Forget the baseball: Emo was the true connective tissue across Innings 2025. (OK, if not emo directly, then emo-adjacent or its super sentimental counterpart from the early 2000s.) There was the heft and bombast of Fall Out Boy, and even a more peculiar take from The All-American Rejects. But lest we forget that Innings was also one of the first stops for the newly-reunited Jack’s Mannequin. If you loved Andrew McMahon’s time in Something Corporate, Jack’s Mannequin was either a super solid consolation prize or a less witty, more accessible version of the band. And after Saturday’s set, I’d argue that both are true and maybe only partially so, as Jack’s Mannequin occupy a sweet spot in the “emo revival.” Their unwaveringly earnest, piano-led tunes are the right mix of saccharine singalong and generally solid songwriting. They’re loud and brash enough to really draw the ear, and yet not so much that you don’t feel the warmth and tenderness that beats at the heart of these tunes.
A sunset-adjacent set time was perfect for this band as they rode all sorts of musical and aesthetic lines while also building from the lowkey party vibes of the afternoon to the more robust celebration that defined Saturday night. Maybe Jack’s Mannequin isn’t the biggest name of this revival, but they proved that they bring something shiny and heartfelt to the mix. And that even as they have matured and returned to this project with a more sparring touch, the members still see the band as this vital thing for themselves and for their musical cohorts.
That intent and commitment means Jack’s Mannequin checks so many boxes — as an earnest nostalgia act; a band fostering great catharsis; and even a group people can still discover and fall for to this very day. Forget what emo band did what: Jack’s Mannequin made the feels seem very real and exciting, and they deserve the same flowers as anyone else. CC
Beck, 6:35 p.m. at Home Plate
A woman standing near me during Beck’s set whined, “Play ‘Loser’!” after every non-”Loser” song. Besides being awfully annoying, her tendency to reduce that artist to a 30-year only song was a disservice to both Beck and fans everywhere.Because Beck’s sunset performance on the Home Plate Stage was an exercise in versatility that reminded the audience of Beck's unbridled talent. Want a groovy retro sound? He opened with “Devil’s Haircut” in front of a display depicting the neon glow of an Asian night market. We even got his smarmy lounge act — and impressive falsetto — on “Debra,” a mournful lament on his cover of The Korgis’ “Everybody’s Gotta Learn Sometime” and a solid blues guitar on the intro to “Loser.” (Yes, he played it eventually.)
Lean and nonchalant in a blue corduroy jacket and black flare jeans, Beck (now 54) still seems so young and vital. We’ve never seen someone be so cool and look so awkward doing it, and he toes the line with elegance and intent. And in 75 minutes, he both heated up the crowd for the final two acts of the night and showed off his dazzling musical range.
And last time I checked, that is way greater than “Loser.” JG
Boyz II Men, 7:55 p.m. at Right Field
Boyz II Men were mostly the odd men out on a lineup filled with rock and alternative artists. Still, through a well of passion and talent to spare, they continued to prove themselves as winners both in and out of the confines of R&B. Starting off their set with the high energy “Motownphilly,” and closing with riveting high notes of “End of the Road,” the group readily demonstrated their massive versatility. They still managed to take it even further, however, by paying homage to multiple artists and genres. From a gospel-tinged cover of Bruno Mars’ “Locked Out of Heaven” to inspired renditions of Sam Cooke’s “A Change Is Gonna Come” and The Beatles’ “Come Together,” their vocal range and technical ability knew no bounds.
Boyz II Men are performers through and through, with an undeniable ability to connect with the crowd no matter the song being performed at any given moment. Their Mariah Carey collabo (“One Sweet Day”), as well as a touching tribute to Prince with “Purple Rain,” even moved several audience members to tears. Then, in short order, “I’ll Make Love To You” (complete with the group tossing roses into the crowd) got folks swooning across the field.
It wasn’t just the music that moved people: Singer Shawn Stockman vowed to make the audience remember every moment, and that singular instance highlighted how the group works to connect earnestly with fans. Boyz II Men succeeded in delivering a truly unforgettable performance, but the evening was about so much more than music. It was a moving display of mutual admiration between musicians and fans, and everyone was happy to share the love. SB
The Killers, 9 p.m. at Home Plate
The closing set of any music festival feels a bit like the final night at summer camp. For days, we’ve existed in a bizarre little ecosystem with its own set of rules: your bracelet tells you where to go, you sit on the ground, there's gross communal bathrooms all around and most folks spend far too much time in the sun. So as we were already feeling wistful about the weekends proceedings, The Killers came in and cranked the nostalgia up to 11. The 20-plus years since “Hot Fuss” changed all of us in countless ways; for the band’s part, they’re less theatrical, more solid, but no less energizing. Frontman Brandon Flowers is somehow more handsome than he was two decades ago, and if you think I’m objectifying him for saying it, even the dudes around me remarked on his youthful good looks.
The band’s opening song, a cover of John Fogerty’s “Centerfield” — which came after a preshow singalong of “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” — was unexpected but certainly in line with the baseball theme of Innings Festival. And if the rest of The Killers’ set didn’t contain any surprises, well, who said it needed any? The 90-minute performance leaned heavily into their first three albums and all the anthems contained therein: “Mr. Brightside” (the second song of the set), “Somebody Told Me” and the encore numbers, “Human” and “When You Were Young.”
The songs were familiar enough, the mood was joyous and we all left another Innings Festival soaring on an emotional high. Sort of like with summer camp, we weren’t looking for much else. JG
