The midday sun was still courageous when Wheatus took the stage at Oceans Calling 2025. Introduced with more enthusiasm than one might expect for a support act, the band’s arrival was preceded by a surprise: none other than Jason Biggs—the actor best known for American Pie fame—gave them the stage introduction, adding a bit of cheeky nostalgia to the moment. That light touch felt appropriate: Wheatus, after all, has always occupied a space where earnestness and irony meet.
As the band launched into Tipsy, the crowd responded with excitement. Few would have predicted that by the time Teenage Dirtbag was underway, the sky itself would turn dramatic—dark clouds gathered, thunder rolled, and a sudden summer downpour began, drenching the front rows and turning the sand to slick surface. Yet, the rain didn’t interrupt the show; if anything, it amplified the catharsis.
Setting the Tone, Song by Song
Tipsy opened the set with a tight groove. It was the kind of opener that bypasses the usual slow warm-up—it jumped straight into momentum, as if the band meant to insist you pay attention from the first chord.
They followed with Fourteen, offering a contrast in tone and pace. The crowd’s chatter dimmed; people dug in, phones raised, voices quieted to let the story in the lyrics land.
Then came Growing on Me, a cover of The Darkness track, which landed solidly in Wheatus’s hands. It was a moment of playful homage—the high harmonies, the guitar flair—they made it their own without losing the song’s gleam.
People came next, grounding things back in Wheatus’s own catalog. It allowed them to reset, to bring the audience’s focus back to their identity, not just nostalgia or roots.
When they launched A Little Respect (the Erasure classic), it came not as a detour but as a deliberate bridge. Over the course of their live history, Wheatus have always dipped into covers, reinterpreting them through their own lens. Their version here also included a nod to My Girl at the ending—an intersection of decades, a twist of recognition and surprise.
From there, Lemonade delivered a burst of energy and melodic catchiness. It landed nicely before Leroy stepped in—leaner, perhaps sharper in its edges, a slightly darker mood.
Hey, Mr. Brown shifted the tone again—introspective, midtempo, giving the crowd a space to breathe before the final push.
And then, finally: Teenage Dirtbag. By this point, the storm had fully broken. Rain poured, the wind tugged at cables, and the stage lights glowed through the haze of water. But the band powered through. The chorus erupted against the patter of raindrops—a mass of voices singing back, drenched, undeterred. The moment felt elemental. If the song has always been about outsider yearning, here it felt like a collective letting go.
Full Setlist
-
Tipsy
-
Fourteen
-
Growing on Me (The Darkness cover)
-
People
-
A Little Respect (Erasure cover, with My Girl ending)
-
Lemonade
-
Leroy
-
Hey, Mr. Brown
-
Teenage Dirtbag
The Rain-Drenched Finale & Atmosphere
That downpour during Teenage Dirtbag was more than a curiosity—it became part of the performance’s narrative. What might have been a moment to duck for cover instead became communal: fans leaning in, arms raised, soaking wet but singing harder. The rain didn’t dampen enthusiasm—it sharpened it.
In a festival environment, those spontaneous, weather-driven moments are the ones people talk about later. They turn a set from “good” into “memorable.” Wheatus, of course, didn’t pause or fuss—they pushed through, playing as though the storm were a willing accomplice to their finale.
Before Teenage Dirtbag, the crowd was already primed. When rain began, some in the front rows shouted, some cheered in surprise, some laughed. But the band never skipped a beat; they let the chord changes ride, let the vocals sustain. And when the chorus hit, all of it—the water, the voices, the guitars—felt unified.
The decision to keep going, rather than pause or seek cover, spoke to a certain boldness. This was a beach festival, not a controlled indoor venue. The elements have a say. Wheatus respected that, and let that tension enhance the last song.
Reflections on the Show
What stood out most was how confident Wheatus sounded. They aren’t a nostalgia act simply mining Teenage Dirtbag over and over. Their set built a small narrative arc: familiar songs, bold covers, quieter moments, then the full storm. They didn’t lean too heavily on hits except where they mattered, and they allowed space for texture, for dynamics.
The two covers were smart choices. Growing on Me injected a rock-glam thrust; A Little Respect juxtaposed synth-pop elegance with their more guitar-forward sound. The addition of the My Girl bit at the end of A Little Respect was a twist that reminded the crowd Wheatus still like to surprise.
Songs like Leroy and Hey, Mr. Brown gave weight and depth. These aren’t filler—they’re part of the story, slow burners that let the audience settle into mood before the final crescendo.
And then the rain. It’s easy to romanticize it after the fact, but in the moment, it must have tested sound engineers, worried stagehands, challenged monitors. For the band to let Teenage Dirtbag ride through all that was, in its own way, theatrical.
For many in the audience, that moment will stick—not just as “they played Teenage Dirtbag,” but as they played it in a downpour. It becomes a shared memory of how music and nature collided for a few minutes.
Why the Wheatus Set Resonated
Wheatus’s performance at Oceans Calling wasn’t just another nostalgia stop. It felt deliberate, composed, and willing to lean into risk. They trusted the songs, trusted their musicianship, and trusted the crowd. They didn’t need gimmicks—the rain became one for them.
The presence of Jason Biggs in the introduction was a playful framing—a wink to the ’90s cultural moment. But the performance that followed earned its own narrative. The band didn’t just ride a wave of prior fame—they insisted on relevance and immediacy.
When Teenage Dirtbag started, it always had the potential for a moment. But few festival performances get to hit that high watermark under fully unpredictable conditions. Here, the moment cracked open. That’s what people will remember.
If one were to revisit recordings, clips, fan footage, that rain-soaked finish will stand out—not just because of the spectacle, but because it felt honest. The band didn’t pause. They let the elements be part of the show. The crowd didn’t retreat. They leaned in.
For 2025’s Oceans Calling, in a lineup full of nostalgia and re-emergence, Wheatus offered something that captured both memory and moment. That’s rare in festival sets. They reminded us: sometimes the difference between a good show and a legendary one is just the willingness to play through the storm.