Day 1 of Evolution Festival this year found Langenberg Field dry and under warm, sunny skies, a pleasant change after last year’s mudfest. Structurally, the event saw some reorganizing of GA and VIP viewing areas, a new VIP “club” next to the main stage (the old VIP field across the bridge has gone the way of the giant weeping willow on the festival grounds, which was, sadly, toppled by the tornado that ripped through Forest Park in May), and a new chair policy.
Musically, much of Saturday was devoted to raw, sweaty garage rock and old-school hip-hop, a strategic appeal to aging ‘90s grunge and rap fans who showed up in force as a complement to headliners Sublime, whose ska-punk-rap fusion continues to appeal to multiple generations, all of whom packed the mainstage area on Saturday night. See below for SLM’s chat with members of Sublime about their cross-generational appeal.
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With the sun blazing, lots of attendees sought shade where they could find it, lounging under trees on the festival’s perimeter alongside the second stage, and gathering around the shaded beer tent stage. But with a dizzying amount of music to consume, much of it overlapping on three stages, the schedule kept the more ambitious fans on the move. It was about all stage-hoppers could handle if they wanted to catch everything. I was, however, able to see every artist on every stage, so again this year we present the 32 Best Songs of Evolution, one from each artist.
SEPTEMBER 26
Evolution 2025 actually kicked off Friday night with a wild, cameo-packed official pre-party at The Golden Record headlined by British trio His Lordship. Dagger Polyester (who would play the fest on Sunday) opened, and His Lordship blew the place sky-high with a feverish set of the trio’s punkabilly rock ‘n’ roll before bringing out a string of guests, including fellow Evolution-mates The Kills, McKinley James, Hacienda, and Jimmy Griffin. Other local heroes on hand included Charles Berry III (who ripped through a cover of his grandad’s “Nadine”), rapper Tef Poe, and The Bottle Rockets’ John Horton and Mark Ortmann. (His Lordship singer/guitarist James Walbourne talked about, incredibly, covering Bottle Rockets songs in his high school rock band). Pick moment: The Kills, who were unbilled for the event, jumped on stage for a hot, electrified take on Springsteen’s Nebraska classic “State Trooper.”
SEPTEMBER 27
The beer tent was surprisingly full—mostly with gray-haired, rock-loving early arrivals—for the fest’s opening act, L.A. proto-punk quartet Sunday Mourners. The band brought a ‘70s CBGB-ness to the Nutrl Stage with their steely post-punk clatter and pulse, and beanpole frontman Quinn A. Robinson indeed sounded like the bastard child of Patti Smith and Lou Reed. Pick hit: “Boyfried/Girlfriend,” the title track from last year’s EP, scratching the itch of the Zwickel-sippers in the tent who think of the Strokes as classic rock.
Jimmy Griffin & the Incurables
“Saving the best for first, baby!” Griffin said as St. Louis’ resident prototypical rock star opened the fest’s Lindenwood Stage. The band sounded superb on Griffin’s affable rock anthems, as you would expect with ringers like Kevin Bowers on drums, Jake Elking on keys, and Emily Wallace on vocal harmonies. Everyone in the crowd turned to someone else to point out that Griffin sounds just like Tom Petty, especially on “Wake Up Howlin’,” which also featured the set’s best Griffinian guitar solo. Pick: “I Hope You Never Run Out of People That Love You,” the best sample of the Incurables’ a-jangle-here-and-a-crunch-there approach to heartland rock.
Amid the garage-rock cavalcade in the beer tent came the more bucolic sounds of Silver Synthetic. A scruffy five-pack sporting blue jeans and hollow-bodied guitars, these New Orleanians take their hazy harmonies and ambrosial arrangements seriously. With two guitars and a pedal steel, it was a string-ringing affair amid the warm, resonant tone of mellow-gold tunes like “Back Home” and “Only Time” from this year’s Rosalie.
From the Billy Joe Armstrong school of faux-British punk-rock vocal affectations, Austin’s Gus Baldwin, who opened the main stage, gave the middle-aged early arrivals quite a rock ‘n’ roll throttling, bashing his cherry-red Gibson SG with everything he had. Wearing a black Max’s Kansas City T-shirt and a Ringo Starr button, Baldwin signaled that he was all ‘70s underground punk and ‘60s-style memorable hooks, as on the breakneck “Cherrywood” with its Ramones-style “bop bop” chant. Gus also shred impressively above the 13th fret a time or two as drummer Trey Gutierrez played machine-gun decuplets on the snare.
I’m not sure anyone had more fun on stage on Saturday than The Velveteers—it spilled right over the stage and into the capacity crowd under the beer tent. Guitarist/caterwauler Demi Demitro set up stage right playing a squealing Silvertone, the only melodic instrument on stage for most of the set, as Baby Pottersmith (in a black miniskirt) and Jonny Fig (mustachioed) provide explosive mirrored drumming on side-by-side kits. They are just two drummers, but they hit hard enough for four, so the band sounded much bigger than a trio. “See Your Face” was a representative pummeler and a tom-tom workout for Pottersmith and Fig in the back. It was one of the day’s best sets.
Fans looking for less guitar distortion headed for the Texas-style electric blues of McKinley James. Set up in ZZ Top/Double Trouble formation, James led a trio, including his father on drums, that was all double-humbucker boogie and tough-but-polished blues energy. On “They Call Me Lonesome” and the Chuck Berry-esque “I’m in Love,” James stretched out on his Gibson ES, and with nowhere to hide with the loud, clean sound over at the Lindenwood Stage, James tore into solo after solo. Coolest cut: the gritty new single “Just Left My Baby’s.”
Veteran minimalist garage-punk duo The Kills boasted the loudest guitar of the whole festival, courtesy of Jamie Hince, who also triggered the band’s drum machine. (The Velveteers had an extra drummer on site The Kills could have used.) As always with this band, all eyes were on Allison Mosshart, still with the tousled platinum hair and visible roots, striking serpentine rock-star moves in blue-and-black flannel with one boot up on the monitors. “Good morning!” she called out at a quarter to four in the afternoon. Peak of the set: “103,” as close as The Kills get to a dulcet melody.
It was a half-hour of straight-up old-school emceeing over at The Pharcyde’s takeover of the Lindenwood Stage, complete with the unconventional cadences, playful rhymes, and jazz-infused beats for which the ‘90s underground rap legends are known. Flatlip and Slimkid3 were cruising on the mics with animated, sing-song hooks everywhere, but Imani came close to stealing the show with not just his fluid, charismatic flow but also his loose-limbed, funky freestyle dancing, adding visual energy to the show. And guess who else dug it? A beaming Flava Flav, who, clock already around his neck, watched and danced from the wings. Flyest cut: Their funny, jazzy signature song “Passin’ Me By” was the peak of the party.
With the day reaching peak temps, TVOD worked up quite a lather in the beer tent with their high-energy, groove-oriented, atmospheric brand of post-punk. The eclectic Brooklyn-based sextet wrapped a half-hour earlier than their scheduled time, yet they made a quick, urgent connection with the crowd as songs like the synthy “Super Spy” provided a brooding minor-key edge, as singer Tyler Wright bent menacingly over the crowd atop a disco-adjacent dance groove, offsetting the band’s outright punk bombast at other times. At the end, Wright pleaded for folks to visit the merch booth: “We’re extremely broke!”
Swedish garage-rock revivalists The Hives took the main stage 17 minutes late but then made up for it by rocking their ascots off the rest of the way. The quintet, of course, wore their black Western suits with white piping and bolo scarves, and, as always, Howlin’ Pelle Almqvist worked himself into a frazzle—swinging the mic cable, tossing the stand in the air, and continually urging the crowd to go wild. Subtle, The Hives aren’t: “Do you like rock music!?” Almqvist bellowed. It was a dizzying pace of punk verses and anthemic choruses with all the hits—“Hate to Say I Told You So,” “Main Offender”—that you’d expect. But the boiling point came with “Come On!” one minute of crunchy guitar adrenaline and lyrics limited to just the two words in the title. And these guys never stop: Later that evening, The Hives showed up at the White Castle in Fenton for their first-ever sliders and to serve customers in the drive-thru.
To go from The Hives over to the beer tent for His Lordship was to invite sweat-soaked rocking overload and cause severe cochleatic taxation. But it was worth it to lay eyes and ears on His Lordship’s James Walbourne, lead guitarist for The Pretenders and one of the best axe maulers you’ll ever see. They opened with “Buzzkill,” which was anything but as the U.K.–based duo, playing as a trio at Evolution, laid waste to an hour of relentless rock ‘n’ roll—angular guitar riffs, moving chords, driving rhythms, jugular-popping vocal intensity, and black-suited British cool. The Kills jumped on the small stage at the end to seal the deal on the hardest-rocking set of the weekend.
Things were far more languid and dreamy on the Lindenwood Stage as British singer-songwriter Corinne Bailey Rae turned in a lovely sunset showcase of her distinctive new-age soul style. Corinne shared plenty of stage time with striking vocalist Alita Moses, a star in her own right, and the two doubled their voices and hand choreography on “He Will Follow You With His Eyes.” In a shiny silver high-neck jumpsuit, Corrine did it all—sang, did tai chi moves, played the wind chimes, strapped on the guitar, and advocated for love and health. “It’s so wonderful to gather in this park together and be peaceful and weird,” she said. At times, the set veered into new-age skronk, a cascade of drums, Rhodes organ, and vocal backdrops. The best moment came at the end when Corinne played an acoustic guitar on the sultry “Like a Star” just before closing with her big smash, “Put Your Records On.”
The sound at the two big stages was remarkable all weekend, and never more impressive than during Sam Fender’s set on the main stage as darkness finally cooled the park. “We’re from a small fishing town called North Shields,” Fender said in his Geordie accent, completing an Evolution trifecta of three British acts in a row. With nine musicians on stage, Fender’s band pumped out a big, lush, layered sound on tunes like “Getting Started,” abetted by a big, romantic ‘80s-style alto sax break. Fender is an understated performer, standing still and strumming a Jazzmaster, but his strong, clear tenor and the polished production of his anthemic Killers-style rock songs won over the middle-aged Sublime fans heretofore unfamiliar with Fender.
The most thrilling set of the day goes to Rock and Roll Hall of Famers Public Enemy, and it was all the Chuck, Flav, S1Ws, and iconic hits the big crowd could have hoped for. Chuck D has lost none of the old rumble, Flava Flav reminded everyone why he’s the greatest sideman in hip hop history, and DJ Johnny Juice, in the old Terminator X role, was cutting in beats, scratching, and replicating the Bomb Squad’s sonic charge. It all sounded fantastic, and the legends really knew where they were: Chuck and Flav referenced the Checkerdome, the St. Louis Hawks, Bob Betit’s 50-point performance in the ‘58 NBA Finals, Kiel Auditorium, Jayson Tatum, Nelly, Chingy, Gus’s Fashions, the Arch, Dr. Jockenstein, and Ferguson. Plus, Chuck sang a snippet of Chuck Berry’s “Roll Over Beethoven,” rapped a verse of “Bring the Noise” over a sample of “Maybelline,” and told the kids in the audience, “You aren’t too young to know that Chuck Berry is from St. Louis.” An all-time classic.
Sublime’s headline set saw the largest gathering of fans for the weekend, as this was the moment old heads and young converts in Sublime shirts had been waiting for in the sun all day. Once the band hit, the rhythm section of Sublime OGs Eric Wilson (bass) and Bud Gaugh (drums) locked in on the band’s trademark ska-punk sway, and singer Jake Nowell, who has taken the place of his late father, Bradley Nowell, as lead singer, kept things (very) loose, wandering the stage and winging with an off-the-cuff, backyard-party vibe. In fact, the set started with deep cuts the band rarely revisits, including covers of Fallen Idols (“Prince of Hate”) and The Grateful Dead (“Scarlet Begonias”). Once they got to more familiar material—“40oz to Freedom,” “Smoke Two Joints”—the band locked into a sturdier groove, complete with psychedelic lights and video backdrops, mixing in eight tracks from their seminal 1996 self-titled album, plus well-received new single “Ensenada” and a sampling of reggae covers (Bob Marley, Barrington Levy), making for a long, congenial set designed to satisfy both seasoned and new Sublime fans.
What They Got
SLM’s Steve Leftridge catches up with Evolution headliners Sublime.
Before Sublime’s set, I climbed onto their trailer back in the artist’s compound, where I found Gaugh, Wilson, and Nowell all crammed one-two-three on a bench-seat, ready for a short pre-show chat. Nowell was friendly and loquacious, Gaugh was serious and reflective, and Wilson, wearing round mirror-ball specs, played the comic foil. We batted it back and forth for a 10-minute lighting round.
SLM: How do you balance honoring the old band but also letting the new lineup be successful on its own terms?
Wilson: I make sure that I wake up breathing.
Gaugh: Those things happen naturally, you know? You don’t even think about it. We just keep playing, keep improving, writing together, and I think the proof is in the magic of the fans and how they are experiencing a good time. So as long as they keep having a good time, we’ll keep doing it.
SLM: Have you noticed a difference between what the fans expect from you and what you want to do as you move forward?
Gaugh: I don’t know about their expectations, but what I’ve noticed are a lot more people of all age groups. We have kids that are junior high school and high school age, and even younger, and then people that are our age and older that are coming to the shows. Generations. It’s amazing.
Nowell: It shows me that it’s speaking to all these multiple generations. If you aren’t genuine, you don’t get that response.
SLM: I’m a high-school teacher, and I never go a week without seeing kids in Sublime shirts. How do you explain why kids today continue to connect with Sublime?
Nowell: People relate to the music, and who else is really doing that specific sound, you know? I think any band that really finds something unique, people gravitate to it. That’s a special thing. And you don’t get that without Bud and Eric and the unique interplay with my dad. So having that in our mind and our hearts, we just continue to honor that sort of bond. But there is an unexpected element, like, you get the kid and the mom and the grandma all coming together. It’s like, the one thing we agree on is Sublime. I’m like, the lyrics are pretty raunchy! You must be a cool family!
SLM: Was there a moment when Jakob started playing with the band that you realized that this chemistry was there?
Gaugh: Pretty much the first five minutes of playing. By the end of the first song.
Nowell: Yeah, totally. We were like, okay, this is sick.
SLM: The new single “Ensenada” is based on some older Sublime material. Is mining the old material something that is ongoing?
Wilson: It’s like a good fictional book. In reality, if you go to Ensenada, you’re not going to find a whore there. It’s metaphorical.
Nowell: We went back and looked for inspiration, but it’s almost like you learn the cookbook and then you burn the cookbook, you know? Then you just follow your instincts after that.
SLM: So how do you envision the next wave of Sublime songs? Are you going to lean on the established formula or move in a new directions?
Gaugh: We’re changing it up. Symphonic death waltz!
Nowell: Yeah, dude, it’s exciting. We can’t wait for people to hear it. I think people are going to dig it. I think St. Louis is gonna dig it. We love St. Louis. We hear y’all been waiting, and we are happy to be here!
SLM: Do you have any interesting memories of playing St. Louis?
Wilson: I’ve played here many many times, and the weather is better here today than it has ever been for me. The rest of it is kind of a blur. And that’s a good thing. It means we had a good time.
The official Evolution late-night afterparty on Saturday was held over at Ballpark Village for anyone with the stamina to keep going. Local guitar shapeshifter Sean Canan, a St. Louis treasure, brings together a rotating bullpen of the best musicians in St. Louis weekly to play tribute shows to different artists. At the afterparty, Sean & Co.—this time including The Mighty Pines’ John Hussung (bass) and Gerard Erker (anything with strings), plus drummer Tony Barbata—performed a “Voodoo mixtape,” a sort of greatest hits from across their various projects. They picked big haymakers appropriate for downtown revelers drinking $3 drafts, from Tom Petty to Bob Marley to outlaw country tunes to big singalongs like “Wagon Wheel” and “Take Me Home Country Road.” My fave: “Will the Circle Be Unbroken,” which felt like a fitting benediction to a long day of indulgences.
SEPTEMBER 28
These St. Louis rockers started in the beer tent just 15 minutes after the gates opened, and singer Lee Todorovich was impressed with the turnout, saying he wanted his band to be the “fat juicy worm” for all of us early birds. This is bare-bones rock ‘n’ roll with a pile of GBV-length songs, a drummer with a one-tom setup (a floor tom), and a Les Paul strummed to partial ruin. “We’re as St. Louis a band that could be playing here,” Todorovich claimed, as guitarist Gabe Karabell teased a Chuck Berry riff. Later, Todorovich gave away a tattered lawn chair to a lucky (?) audience member and performed a poorly executed herkie during “Gotta Move.” It was a fun start to a day that would be even hotter than Saturday.
It’s hard to get overly theatrical on the small beer tent stage, but Dagger Polyester did their damnedest to cram their synth-trash glam-punk xeno-opera into a sensory-packed half hour. The L.A.–based singer-songwriter plucked songs such as “Father Panik” and “She Kissed the Gun” from this year’s Perversion for Profit while wearing New York Dolls patchwork garb and gutter-goth makeup, while a stick-style electric cello provided another layer of percussive propulsion beneath the anarcho-synth orgy. Get the album if you want to hear the songs; see Dag live for a wild dose of ‘70s-style art-shock entertainment.
I felt bad for St. Louis native Lawrence Rothman over on the Lindenwood Stage where, up against the spectacle of Dagger and the early time slot and in the heat, almost nobody showed up to see them. It’s a shame since Rothman’s accessible pop-icana songs and resonant baritone made for one Sunday’s most likable sets. And despite the scant numbers in the crowd, Rothman, to their credit, still performed like they were at Live Aid. Dressed in gray dress pants and vest with no shirt on underneath, a matching cowboy hat, and gold cowboy boots, they cut a tall, lean figure, all Western flair and rock swagger, and they sounded just great on the autobiographical “Poster Child,” which namechecks St. Louis. On the final song, Rothman jumped down into the grass and high-fived the few of us who were lucky enough to be there.
On the main stage, another locally raised singer, Jeffery Goldford, enjoyed a healthier crowd, and the Ladue High grad kept reminding us that it was a hometown show. These are mannered, comfy, light-rock, MOR-soul songs communicated in Goldford’s fireside vocals and oft-used falsetto. He knows his way around a melody, and with his acoustic guitar anchoring everything, it was a nice mellifluous antidote to what had been a mostly noisy festival to this point. “Orange Blossoms” was the crowd favorite, but “Easy Does It” best captured the spirit of the moment.
A half-hour set is barely enough time for Low Cut Connie’s Adam Weiner to get warmed up, but he got off to a running start and never let up, climbing on his acoustic piano—nicknamed “Nellie” (not just for St. Louis)—doing backbends, leaving the piano to flirt with the crowd, and returning to it to bang out barrelhouse riffs during his instantly singable, danceable songs. He has a prolific body of song to choose from, and we were happy to get the choogling “Rio” and “Dirty Water,” during which he sneaked in snatches of Rod Stewart’s “Hot Legs” and T. Rex’s “Bang a Gong (Get It On),” while Amanda “Rocky” Bullwinkel performed Laugh In dance moves. Nobody gives better bang for your buck than Low Cut Connie, and this was another joy-inducing set; Weiner even used what he called “controversial” words: “diversity” and “inclusion.”
Hairball brother act Hacienda—sometimes a quartet but pared down to a trio for this set—kept up the scuzz-rock marathon in the beer tent. The Villanueva brothers are like the Jonas Brothers if the Jonases were Texas-based Mexican-Americans in Willie Nelson braids who played grungy blues rock at capillary-melting decibels. Their records lean more on an easier-going Tex-Mex and retro-rock sound, but they were in the mood for heavy-groove fuzz rock on Sunday, laying down thick slabs of garage-psych rock like “Don’t Keep Me Waiting.”
It was all breezy melodies with Maggie Rose’s main stage set, with arrangements as bright and vibrant as her multi-colored sequined pants. Maggie’s brassy-but-poised vocals sounded just terrific on “Poison in My Well” and “Fake Flowers,” but the set reached maximum musical and emotional gorgeousness with a cover of the Bonnie Raitt classic “I Can’t Make You Love Me.” Sweet local bonus: Maggie brought out Aaron, Adam, and Charlie from our very own Funky Butt Brass Band to lay down some horns on “What Are We Fighting For” and “You Got Today.”
Another rock trio hit the beer tent, this one centered around the songs of singer-guitarist Justin Sullivan. The sound still swirled around the tent into a thick wash, but Sullivan dialed down the distortion and drummer Shawn Durham furnished a light touch on the hi-hat. Songs like “Hello Take Me Anywhere” are bouncy toe-tappers played with root chords down on the nut, an unfussy affair that combined elements of traditional and indie-rock with a dash of warm Americana, all delivered in Sullivan’s tender vocals. It was one of the beer tent’s sweetest sets, and the crowd was affectionate throughout.
“I feel like one of those 7-Eleven hot dogs up here,” said Cut Worms leader Max Clarke, referencing the heat blasting down during their late afternoon set. A twangish quintet complete with some crying pedal steel, Cut Worms were as close as Evolution came this year to a St. Louis–patented Son Volt-style alt-country band. Clarke strummed a Rickenbacker for a nice Byrdsy jangle, and the Worms were decidedly unjammy, sticking to a smooth, nicely mixed instrumental blend and supple-voiced harmonies. It all added up to dreamy retro-minded folk-rock on the Lindenwood Stage. Case in point: a spot-on cover of The La’s “There She Goes.”
It was star time on the main stage as Marcus King opened with “The Well,” immediately belting out sky-high soul-grit vocals that prove that Chris Stapleton has nothing on him. And as a picker on that big Gibson, with rattlesnake runs and snarling switchbacks, he was creating some serious proto-jam Southern-rock fire. Add slide-slinging wingman Drew Smithers, and you have a country-blues attack that left the crowd all Marshall Tuckered out by the end of it. Take your pick of a dozen highlights, such as a crowd-tickling cover of Charlie Daniels’ “Long Haired Country Boy,” but I’ll go with the slow scorcher “8 A.M.”
It was the last set of the festival in the beer tent, and it went out with all the buzz and snarl appropriate for a garage-rock run for the ages. Brazilian guitarist/vocalist Flávia Couri was wielding a sweet Firebird, cranked to high heaven, and Danish drummer Martin Couri, with a minimal kit—one crash cymbal (used as a ride), one tom—kept everything rooted in garage grit and punk urgency. But high-kicking Couri, in a sleeveless minidress and fishnets, sang melodies straight out of ‘60s girl groups, like on “The Boy I Love,” complete with Ronnie Spector-style “oh-ohs” packaged in searing guitar overdrive.
He’s long been St. Louis’ gateway to the Western swing, a riverboat ride to vaudeville blues, and a wayback machine to Dixieland jazz. These days, Pokey dials back the cowboy-folk outfits and tin-type recreations for a more personal stamp while still leading a dandy six-piece through a rambling, shambling retro-roots stew. Sunday’s set was plenty eclectic—at one point, his guitarist whipped out a pocket trumpet—in his celebration of American musical traditions. But while his set harkened back to yesteryear, it also sounded vibrantly fresh on Pokey classics such as “Get It ‘Fore It’s Gone,” “Something in the Water,” and the Midwest homage “Central Time.”
The last time TLC played St. Louis, they were headlining Hollywood Casino Amphitheatre back in 2023, so it was a good get to have the ‘90s new-jack legends in the sub-headliner spot on Sunday night. You’ll be glad to know that Chilli’s and T-Boz’s shoulder bounce is still in prime form. And did they slay? You know it, scrub. The vocal blend of T-Boz’s husky timbre with Chilli’s silker higher harmonies sounded phenomenal, and the live instrumentation (drums, keys, guitars) alongside DJ Dubz beats and samples created a sensational sonic wallop. Four dancers provided the pop-and-locks, whirligigs, and body rolls while the ladies took an extended break backstage, but they got to all (and nothing but) the hits: “Diggin’ On You” and “Unpretty” came early; the trifecta of “Creep,” “No Scrubs,” and “Waterfalls” came late. Crazy, sexy, cool.
And you’re not going to believe this: After their set, Chilli and T-Boz were driving around downtown St. Louis when they happened to hear “Waterfalls” pouring out of Broadway Oyster Bar, and they stopped to check it out. Turns out local soul belter Tish Period was in the middle of her set when the TLC gals walked into the bar. A shocked, emotional Tish then sang her version of “Waterfalls” straight to TLC as the legends smiled on encouragingly. What a moment.
John Tillman emerged as the final act on the Lindenwood Stage amid a curtain of stage fog and red chiaroscuro, looking like Jesus emerging from the shroud of Turin in a dark tailored suit. Indeed, his beard has grown ever more biblical just as he has grown more interested in soft rock and baroque-lite show tunes. Those songs, five of which were from his latest album Mahashmashana, made up the bulk of his set. And if you dig Father John Misty strolling around with the mic, acting out his sharply wry lyrics with hand gestures, looking steely and serious amid what somehow feels like dark comedy, and singing in that clear, velvety croon, then this was the set for you. FJM doesn’t write choruses to hold hands and sing along to, but the songs soar nonetheless, none more than a beautifully sung, lushly arranged “Mental Health.”
The lawn was full for the biggest star in Forest Park this weekend, and Kravitz, a pro’s pro, gave everyone what they wanted: bohemian-glam rocker fashion, Flying Vs, sexy dreadlock whipping, excellent side musicians with ripped torsos, an impossible cool female drummer in a KISS T-shirt, boilerplate new-age stage patter about love and unity, and his five big hits. Kravitz is a good enough singer and guitarist to justify such oversized sunglasses, and the whole thing was a taut, guitar-driven, funk-rock concert designed for the masses who still want to believe that rock stars are superheroes. “Let Love Rule” lasted 15 minutes and included, in Lenny tradition, a stroll down the middle barricade. I got close enough to confirm what I have long suspected: Lenny smells terrific. And then he vanished, thereby closing the third Evolution Festival in big, nostalgic, hopeful, crowd-pleasing fashion. We feel Evolved. See you next year.
Looking for even more photos from Evolution? Visit bit.ly/EvoFest25cz for all of concert photographer Carrie Zukoski’s fest snaps.
Editor’s note: A previous version of this story misstated the names of members of the band Still Animals and Night Shop. SLM regrets the error.
