Sunflower Bean, a Brooklyn trio of psych-rockers, played a short yet punchy show at The Frequency Saturday. Their audience ranged from college-aged to middle-aged, which demonstrated the band’s appeal to a demographic wider than just their young-adult peers. Every aspect of Sunflower Bean’s show, from their sound to their look, represented the modern artists' potential to bypass classification in favor of something more broadly accessible. The overall effect felt timeless.
As millennials, Sunflower Bean belong to a generation of music-makers who grew up susceptible to unprecedented influence from every digital-documented time period. Furthermore, as Brooklyn natives, they’re full-fledged members of a regional climate known for its creative dynamism. These circumstances no doubt cultivated their colorful approach to making music. Their hour-long set aggregated elements from an array of genres including ‘60s psychedelic rock, ‘70s classic rock and post-punk, ‘80s new wave and modern indie pop.
Their individual looks bopped similarly through time. Each member’s appearance recalled a different decade—singer/guitarist Nick Kivlen, truly a baby-faced Bob Dylan, repped the ‘70s in a thin, button-down linen shirt with matching bell-bottom trousers; singer/bassist Julia Cumming modeled an ‘80s get-up complete with leopard print and shoulder pads; drummer Jacob Faber dressed to the current trend of ‘90s nostalgia in dark colors and a grunged-up, oversized sweater.
Marrying a distinct sound with an equally distinct image is key for artists hoping to stand out in the digital age; Sunflower Bean has this down to a tee. Their various influences may seem disparate in theory, but they find success in action. Sunflower Bean are consistent in their inconsistencies. Just as they don’t commit to one area of sonic influence, they explore their image in a like manner, conveying overall cohesiveness and a unique aesthetic for spectators to grab onto.
I’d like to see them build more on the exciting, foreboding tone they set during Saturday’s show.
Their songs were welcomingly more portentous in person than in recordings. Cumming deserves the credit for this. She does for Sunflower Bean what Dolores O’Riordan does for The Cranberries, providing the band’s most enthralling elements. Her off-kilter sound and demeanor projected doom-tinged vibes that, if punctuated, could further differentiate Sunflower Bean from other indie rock groups.
Simply put, their show was vivacious and too short. They finished their condensed set by half past eight, much to everyone’s dismay. Apparently another band was scheduled to play the venue after them. Despite the evening’s brevity, they made a lasting impression. By uniting elements of the past, present and future, Sunflower Bean managed to step calculatedly away from linear time, and I lost my footing alongside them.
