And, oh, what a set it was. Clocking in at just under an hour, Sincere Engineer delivered a masterclass in economy and emotional impact. It was short, a punchy eleven-song distillation of their catalogue, but every note, every shouted chorus, and every moment of nervous, genuine stage banter was gold. It was a show that didn’t just warm up the crowd; it ignited them.
The stage lights dimmed, the roar of the crowd swelled, and without a moment’s hesitation, the band launched into the propulsive, instantly recognisable opening riff of “Anemia.” This wasn’t a gentle introduction; it was a declaration of intent. The song, a perfect blend of crushing self-deprecation and anthemic release, immediately set the tone. Belos’s voice, a raw, honest instrument, cut through the venue, delivering lines like “I’m a self-fulfilling prophecy / But I don’t feel like I’m doing much prophesying” with a palpable mix of weariness and defiance. The audience was instantly hers, singing along to the lyrics that mirrored their own midnight thoughts.
The energy didn’t just sustain; it intensified. Following up was a welcome deep cut, the requested “Come out for a Spell.” It’s a track that demonstrates Sincere Engineer’s gift for juxtaposing sweet, indie-pop melodies with emotionally heavy lyrical content. The guitar work was pristine, perfectly complementing the vocal delivery. It allowed the crowd a brief, glorious moment of melodic introspection before the band slammed the pedal down again.
Next up was the fan-favourite, the wonderfully titled, “Corn Dog Sonnet No. 7.” The title is pure Sincere Engineer—wry, self-mocking, and distinctly American Midwest. But the song itself is an electrifying piece of pop-punk perfection. The chorus is built to be screamed back by a sweaty audience, and in that Toronto venue, it was. It’s a testament to the band’s songwriting that a song about feeling perpetually out of sync with the world can feel so unifying in a live setting.
The Chicagoans then pulled back the curtain on the melancholic genius of tracks like “Old Coat Pocket” and “California King.” These songs showcase the full emotional spectrum of Belos’s writing. “Old Coat Pocket” is a masterclass in nostalgic regret, its melody swirling and heartbreaking, while “California King” injects a sense of restless escape into the set. It’s in these moments that Sincere Engineer transcends simple genre classification. They are punk in their urgency and honesty, but indie in their thoughtful complexity.
A genuine standout moment of the brief set arrived with the ferocious, politically-charged energy of “Code Orange.” This song, with its sharper edges and driving, almost hardcore-adjacent intensity, provided a magnificent headbanging moment. It’s a track that is less about personal anxiety and more about collective frustration, and the band performed it with a venomous urgency that was thrilling to witness. The pit, previously just a lively swirl, seemed to double in size and intensity. It was a powerful, necessary jolt of adrenaline.
The pace then shifted slightly, the band leaning into the slightly cleaner, yet equally potent melodies of tracks from their latest release, Cheap Grills. “Fireplace” had an undeniable, gritty charm, perfectly setting the stage for one of the evening’s biggest singalongs, “Trust Me.”
“Trust Me” is arguably the definitive Sincere Engineer anthem, a track that perfectly encapsulates the band’s ethos of perpetual self-sabotage and the defiant struggle against it. The collective shout of the chorus—“I’ve dug my grave and I’m crawling back in!”—was a moment of cathartic release for everyone in the room. It wasn’t a cry of despair; it was a communal acknowledgment of shared struggle, turned into a powerful chant.
As the set approached its crescendo, Sincere Engineer treated the faithful to a trio of tracks that truly define their depth: “Ceramic Tile,” “Library of Broken Bindings,” and the perfect closer, “Dragged Across the Finish Line.”
“Ceramic Tile,” with its understated brilliance and quiet build-up, was a moment for the truly devoted. It’s a song that works best when it’s treated as an intimate conversation, and in the packed room, it felt exactly like that. It’s a testament to the band’s magnetism that they can hold an audience rapt with a track that is as much a confession as it is a song.
The penultimate track, “Library of Broken Bindings,” felt like an urgent sprint to the finish line. It’s a gorgeous, soaring piece of punk-rock poetry that perfectly captures the feeling of being overwhelmed by the weight of unfulfilled ambition. It left the audience breathless, bodies swaying, voices hoarse.
Then came the grand finale: “Dragged Across the Finish Line.” It is the ultimate Sincere Engineer track for a closing slot—a celebration of simply making it through the day, the week, the year. It’s an ode to the victory of just surviving, set to a triumphant, fist-pumping score. The final chorus, where the whole band and the entire room felt locked in a singular, joyful moment of exhaustion and triumph, was nothing short of breathtaking. They weren’t just playing music; they were providing the soundtrack to every late-night anxiety attack overcome, every bad decision learned from, and every morning where you just managed to get out of bed.
The moment the final chords rang out, the stage lights flashed, and just like that, it was over. Short. Brutally, brilliantly short.
But that was the beauty of it. Sincere Engineer’s set wasn’t a marathon; it was a sprint, a high-intensity burst of emotional honesty and punk-rock fire. There was no wasted motion, no filler, just eleven impeccably crafted songs that spoke directly to the anxious, weary heart of the modern listener. They didn’t need an encore; the set they delivered was so perfectly paced, so powerfully executed, that anything more would have felt like a superfluous footnote.
As the band took their bows, the applause was deafening, a roaring testament to the fact that sometimes, the most profoundly moving live music comes in the most condensed package. Sincere Engineer’s Toronto 2025 performance wasn’t just a great opening set; it was a perfect one. It was a fleeting, magnificent reminder that in the face of life’s overwhelming chaos, a little bit of raw nerve and a lot of catchy guitar riffs can make you feel a whole lot less alone. The awesome, short show was an unforgettable, exhilarating triumph.