A cool summer breeze swept in from Boston Harbor as Bush took the stage at the Leader Bank Pavilion, the night charged with nostalgia, grit, and the unmistakable electricity that comes when a band with three decades of history still has something new to say. The show marked the release of their latest album—a record that finds frontman Gavin Rossdale balancing raw introspection with that familiar wall of sound that helped define the post-grunge era.
For a band that’s weathered changing musical climates, breakups, reunions, and reinventions, Bush’s 2024 tour felt less like a victory lap and more like a reaffirmation. What unfolded over 90 minutes was a show that moved effortlessly between their classic ‘90s hits and the moody, muscular new material that proves they’re still evolving.
A Statement of Intent
The night kicked off with “Everything Zen,” and from the first riff, the audience was locked in. The song remains a mission statement for Bush—abstract, brooding, and cathartic. Rossdale’s voice, still smoky and defiant after all these years, cut cleanly through the mix as the band tore into it with conviction. There was no warm-up period here—Bush sounded sharp and purposeful from the first note.
Without missing a beat, they launched into “Machinehead,” one of those songs that seems permanently etched into rock radio history. The crowd sang the “breathe in, breathe out” refrain at top volume, hands raised in the air. You could feel the nostalgia in the air, but it wasn’t passive. These songs still live—they still have teeth.
From there, they shifted into “Bullet Holes,” a dark, cinematic track that’s become a live favorite. The song’s atmospheric tension filled the open-air venue, perfectly suited for the dusk settling over the Boston skyline. The mix of pulsing electronics and distorted guitars hinted at how Bush has evolved—still melodic, still heavy, but more layered and textural than ever before.
The Pulse of Reinvention
“The Chemicals Between Us” followed, and the crowd erupted. It’s one of Bush’s sleekest hits—part industrial groove, part radio anthem—and the live version hit even harder. Drummer Nik Hughes drove the beat with relentless energy while Chris Traynor’s guitar carved through the air with surgical precision. Rossdale prowled the stage, his charisma intact, his connection to the audience genuine and unforced.
That led naturally into “Greedy Fly,” one of the band’s darker, moodier cuts from Razorblade Suitcase. Live, it sounded massive, with Traynor layering eerie feedback behind Rossdale’s vocals. The band leaned into the song’s murky, paranoid energy, giving it a heavier, almost metallic edge that made it feel newly relevant.
The new material came next—“Identity” and “All Things Must Change.” Both songs showcase Bush’s current sound: introspective lyrics wrapped in soaring choruses and thick, driving rhythm. “Identity” pulsed with urgency, its refrain—“Who am I without you?”—hitting hard in the night air. “All Things Must Change,” meanwhile, felt like an anthem for the band itself. It’s reflective without being melancholy, acknowledging time’s passage while embracing survival. Rossdale introduced it with a wry smile, saying, “This one’s about transformation—and Boston, you’ve always been part of ours.”
The response was thunderous.
Energy, Emotion, and Evolution
“The Sound of Winter” came next, one of the strongest post-reunion tracks in Bush’s catalog. Its driving tempo and melancholic melody had the crowd bouncing in rhythm, fists pumping as the chorus rang out. The song’s line—*“You’re not alone”—*seemed to hit especially hard with fans who’ve grown up with this band.
Then came a moment of intimacy. Rossdale remained on stage alone for “Swallowed.” Just him and an acoustic guitar, the stripped-down arrangement gave the song new weight. Where the original is hazy and anthemic, this version was raw and fragile, revealing the emotional undercurrent that often hides beneath Bush’s distortion-heavy sound. The crowd sang every word, softly at first, then louder, until the whole venue became a chorus.
The mood shifted again with “Heavy Is the Ocean,” a centerpiece from the new album. The song is both meditative and thunderous, and live it was transformative. The lyrics—“I’m drowning in devotion, heavy is the ocean”—rolled over the audience like a tide. The sound mix was perfect: deep bass, shimmering guitars, and Rossdale’s voice rising above it all, strained but beautiful.
And then came one of the night’s most unforgettable moments: “Flowers on a Grave.” For this one, Rossdale left the stage entirely, leaping down into the crowd and making his way through the aisles while singing. Fans swarmed him with phones and outstretched hands, but he stayed focused, belting the song’s soaring chorus right in the middle of the audience. It was pure theater, pure connection—something few frontmen can pull off with such authenticity.
Back on stage, the band closed the main set with “Little Things.” The song’s slow build and explosive finale made for the perfect capstone, a reminder that Bush’s earliest material still feels urgent. As the final chorus hit, Rossdale dropped to his knees, head thrown back, and the crowd responded in kind—a full-throated singalong that echoed across the harbor.
The Encore: Power, Passion, and a Legendary Surprise
After a brief pause, the band returned for a four-song encore that perfectly captured the scope of their career. They began with “More Than Machines,” the politically charged single from the new album. It’s a muscular, riff-heavy song with a message that hits squarely in 2024’s social climate, and Rossdale performed it with venom and conviction. It was both a statement and a reminder that Bush isn’t content to live off old hits—they’re still here to say something.
Then came the biggest surprise of the night—a cover of The Beatles’ “Come Together.” It could have been gimmicky in lesser hands, but Bush made it their own, slowing it down and drenching it in distortion until it sounded more like a storm than a song. The entire audience sang along, the line “Come together, right now” echoing in the warm night like a communal chant.
For the next song, the lights dimmed again, leaving Rossdale alone under a soft spotlight for “Glycerine.” It’s the song that made him a star nearly 30 years ago, and it still hits like a punch to the chest. His voice carried a rough vulnerability that made the song feel new again, and when the final chord rang out, the crowd stayed silent for a beat before erupting in applause.
Finally, the night ended with “Comedown.” But this wasn’t just any version—Rossdale was joined by none other than Jerry Cantrell of Alice in Chains fame. The two traded lines and harmonized on the chorus, their voices blending in a haunting, powerful mix. Cantrell’s guitar solo added a layer of grit and menace, pushing the song into new territory. It was a rare, unexpected moment that felt truly special—a collision of two icons from the same era, still thriving decades later.
As the last notes faded and the stage lights dimmed to blue, Rossdale thanked the crowd, smiling. “Boston,” he said, “you’ve always been there from the beginning. We’ll never forget that.”
Reflection: The Power of Persistence
Watching Bush in 2024 feels like witnessing a band that’s completely comfortable in its own skin. They’re not chasing trends or reliving the past—they’re bridging the two. The new songs hold their own next to the classics, and Rossdale’s voice, still smoky and powerful, anchors it all with an authenticity that’s become rare in modern rock.
What makes a Bush show so compelling today is the balance between intensity and reflection. Rossdale commands the stage like a man who’s been through it all and come out stronger. He’s theatrical but never fake, emotional without being overwrought. The rest of the band—Chris Traynor on guitar, Corey Britz on bass, and Nik Hughes on drums—operates like a tight, confident machine. Traynor in particular deserves credit for shaping Bush’s modern sound; his playing fuses melody and aggression with a painter’s touch.
Leader Bank Pavilion proved to be the perfect venue for this performance. The open air gave space for the sound to breathe, and the intimacy of the setting made the quieter moments—“Swallowed,” “Glycerine,” “Flowers on a Grave”—resonate deeply. Boston’s fans, ever loyal, gave the band everything in return: energy, devotion, and an endless chorus of voices that carried through every song.
Bush may have been born in the post-grunge haze of the mid-’90s, but in 2024, they stand as survivors and innovators. Their sound has matured, but the heart remains the same—raw emotion, atmospheric tension, and that signature mix of melody and noise. This show wasn’t just a celebration of a new album; it was a celebration of endurance, evolution, and the enduring connection between band and fan.
By the time the crowd filtered out into the humid Boston night, there was a collective sense that everyone had witnessed something special—not just a concert, but a renewal. Bush may have started as outsiders in the grunge world, but three decades later, they’ve earned their place as one of the genre’s most enduring torchbearers.
Grade: B+
Setlist:
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Everything Zen
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Machinehead
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Bullet Holes
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The Chemicals Between Us
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Greedy Fly
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Identity
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All Things Must Change
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The Sound of Winter
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Swallowed (Gavin Solo)
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Heavy Is the Ocean
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Flowers on a Grave (Gavin in the crowd)
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Little Things
Encore: -
More Than Machines
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Come Together (The Beatles cover)
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Glycerine (Gavin Solo)
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Comedown (with Jerry Cantrell)