Distracted

BY ALLIE RUSSELL

Boston traffic won this round. I miss the opener. I’m sweating and I’m annoyed. But the second I walk into MGM Music Hall, I remember why I came. The crowd inside feels like it’s already caught fire, and it wasn’t long before Briston Maroney poured gasoline all over it. 

Right on cue, Maroney pinky promises the crowd that we’re about to lose our minds. Somehow, that undersells it. From the start of “Real Good Swimmer” to the final notes of “Freakin’ Out on the Interstate”, he delivers a set that feels like a chaotic, heartfelt catch-up with five thousand of your new best friends. 

Fresh off the release of his new album, “Jimmy”, Maroney brings the spirit of a chaotic summer road trip to the stage. He gets us flapping our arms “like little pigeons”, builds an onstage campfire mid-set, and invites a member of Peach Pit out to join him on violin. There’s tenderness in songs like “Caroline” and “June”, but also wild, exciting moments, like during “The View” when he jumps into the pit and mock-fights his guitarist. It’s charming, messy, and magnetic; just what you would hope to see from someone like Briston Maroney. 

Then comes Peach Pit. 

They open with “Magpie”, immediately setting the tone for the rest of the night. The stage setup is minimal – three risers, a few amps, and a towering wall of lights behind them – but it’s more than enough. 

“Alrighty Aphrodite” feels massive. “Vickie” turns into a full sing along. They dip just slightly into jam-band territory, and it works. They dedicate “Give Up Baby Go” to “all the people that are going to be hungover as fuck tomorrow”. At one point, frontman Neil Smith half-jokingly calls out the Hozier concert at neighboring Fenway Park: “Let’s be louder than them. Hozier fans are soft as fuck. As one, I would know.” 

They close their main set with “Shampoo Bottles” and “Private Presley”, then come back for an encore that brings it all home: a solo performance of their self-titled track “Peach Pit”, and a full band performance of “Tommy’s Party”. It’s the perfect ending to the night; satisfying, sweaty, and sincere. 

The Long Hair, Long Life tour may be co-headlined, but it’s one giant, shared party between Peach Pit and Briston Maroney fans. It’s the kind of night that leaves your voice gone and your heart a little fuller before having to brave the Boston traffic once again.