Salt, Sand and Smiles: Riding the waves of youth with surf rock band Sun Room
The stage was bathed in red light as lead singer Luke Asgian, guitarist Ashton Minnich, bassist Max Pinamonti and drummer Gibson Anderson strutted out from behind the velvety, black curtains of the Fremont Theatre. The four, who make up the Southern California-based surf rock band Sun Room, were clad in tasteful black suits, mimicking a band you might see perform at prom in the ‘80s.
Peeking out beneath Asgian’s suit was his signature black and white striped shirt, which can be found scattered through the feed of the band’s Instagram. Ties, pins and silky button-ups accented the other bandmates’ outfits –– a flair I instantly recognized from the plethora of surfer-bro musicians that flooded my own hometown in Oceanside, San Diego. It wasn’t surprising, I thought, considering the Sun Room rockers hail from Long Beach and Carlsbad.
The only thing missing from this classic Sun Room show was the Californian heat, given it was Feb. 11. The closest thing was the heat emanating off of the packed bodies within the venue, collectively sizzling with anticipation.
The SoCal natives opened with a loud, punky rendition of their 2020 single “Just Yesterday,” as the crowd simultaneously resorted to chaos. The music flowed, and so did the room ––with the crowd equating to quasi-energizer bunnies. Teens and college students melded into a mosh of sweat, spit and spilled beer.
As I attempted to make my way through the sea of bodies, my eyes fell upon a guy donning a pair of black narrow sunglasses. He was clad in a button-up shirt comically resembling the one that Andy Samberg wore in the 2020 film “Palm Springs”. Sporting slightly too skinny, skinny jeans and vans, he lit a cigarette amidst the chaos, taking a drag as the audience thrashed around him.
I smelled the smoke before I spotted it, but I didn’t have much time to react to the fire hazard before I was shoved into the pulsating pit of people. Elbows were thrown, limbs were flying and drunken laughter escaped the audience’s mouths as we collectively fell like ragdolls, tossed and torn with the background of sunscreen-splattered tunes airing from frontman Asigan’s ivory white Jazzmaster.
Sun Room live is slightly different from the version you get through your headphones ––each track seems to be played faster and as loud as possible, amping up the crowd with every twang of the guitar or crash of a cymbal.
“None of us got into Cal Poly,” Asgian randomly announced to the crowd before the group transitioned from “Clementine” to a dazy cover of “Fade Into You” by Mazzy Star.
Even though it was just a cover, one thing you can count on Sun Room for is their ability to conjure contagious energy. Whether it was when the catchy, lovesick beat of “Sunset Garage,” off their album, Outta Their Mind, began to play or the nostalgic lyrics of their 2021 single “Crashed My Bike” trickled into the audience, I could feel that same indescribable feeling in my gut that I felt during my very first house show.
Standing in front of Sun Room at 19, I couldn’t help but be transported back to my 15-year-old self, marveling at the sound of live music, writhing along with the sticky bodies around me and dancing till my calves were sore. This show was no different.
Halfway through the show the crowd was ill with emotion. Left and right, all that was to be heard was the hum of youth. A hum that mimicked the one found buzzing through the crowd on those hot summer nights a couple years ago. When Sun Room was just another band name you’d find on a vibrantly colored poster. When people would pile into backyards or someone’s garage as Sun Room commanded the crowd with each chord. Entrancing everyone with the static of the now to drown out the sound of summer slipping away.
Sun Room’s songs have and continue to narrate the summers of this generation. Staring up at the ornate paint embellishing the Fremont ceiling, I was met with the realization that this moment was the oldest we’ll ever get and the youngest we’ll ever be.
A wave of nostalgia hit me as I recalled one of the many sun soaked days at the beach with my friends as “Sol De Sur” played in the background. That day at the beach and that night at the concert had one shared sentiment. The only concern was living life before the day was done.
