For a band that was never supposed to exist past the mid-’90s, Sublime’s resurrection at Welcome to Rockville 2025 felt like an act of both celebration and resurrection. The original trio’s music—part punk rebellion, part SoCal sunshine, part reggae soul—has always carried the ghost of Bradley Nowell, whose death in 1996 froze Sublime at the height of their ascent. Yet here we are, nearly 30 years later, and the songs still breathe. They still sound like summer, like smoke, like heartbreak, like life on the edge of chaos.
At Rockville, Sublime was reborn yet again, fronted by Jakob Nowell—Bradley’s son—whose voice, energy, and spirit make the impossible possible. Watching him on stage with original bassist Eric Wilson and drummer Bud Gaugh felt like the closing of a circle, an emotional time warp that collapsed three decades into a single hour. It wasn’t nostalgia; it was renewal. The setlist, filled with classics, deep cuts, and undeniable anthems, proved that Sublime’s sound remains timeless, even in a world far different from the one that birthed it.
Setlist
April 29, 1992 (Miami)
The Ballad of Johnny Butt (Secret Hate cover)
Wrong Way
Date Rape
Doin’ Time
STP
Garden Grove
Badfish
Burritos
Ensenada
What I Got
Same in the End
Santeria
The Energy Returns to the Beach
Daytona Beach was buzzing as the sun began to dip behind the speedway. Rockville had already hosted sets by heavyweights like Foo Fighters and Queens of the Stone Age that weekend, but Sublime drew a different kind of crowd—a barefoot, tattooed, sunburned sea of people who came for the groove, not the fury. The scent of weed and saltwater hung in the humid air. You could feel the anticipation before a single chord was struck.
When the band finally took the stage, the reaction was deafening. Jakob Nowell, wearing a loose button-down and sunglasses, looked both humbled and confident. “What’s up, Rockville?” he shouted, flashing a grin eerily reminiscent of his father’s. “Let’s make this one for the old man.” The crowd erupted.
The opening bassline of “April 29, 1992 (Miami)” rumbled through the speakers, and suddenly, it was 1996 all over again. Eric Wilson’s bass was thick and slinky, Bud Gaugh’s drumming sharp and loose at once, and Jakob’s voice carried the right amount of grit and warmth. His phrasing wasn’t imitation—it was instinct. He sang about riots and rebellion with the urgency of someone who inherited not just the name, but the soul of Sublime.
A Revival That Feels Right
Next came “The Ballad of Johnny Butt,” a deep cut and a nod to the band’s punk roots. The song’s groove hit harder live than it ever did on record, a perfect showcase of Sublime’s rhythm section’s chemistry. Wilson and Gaugh locked in seamlessly, effortlessly tight despite decades apart.
By the time they tore into “Wrong Way,” the crowd was in full singalong mode. Jakob danced around the stage, slashing his guitar and smiling wide as he leaned into the mic for the infamous opening line: “Annie’s 12 years old, in two more she’ll be a whore…” The rawness of Sublime’s lyrics—gritty, politically incorrect, unapologetic—remains shocking, but it’s also part of the band’s unfiltered truth. They never sanitized life; they reflected it. And tonight, the honesty still hit home.
“Daytona, you guys are wild,” Jakob laughed between songs. “I’m feelin’ the energy tonight—let’s take it back to Long Beach!”
The unmistakable riff of “Date Rape” kicked in, and chaos followed. Beach balls bounced through the air, clouds of smoke rose over the pit, and everyone—old fans, new fans, even festival staff—sang the chorus at full volume. The song may be tongue-in-cheek satire, but it’s become one of Sublime’s defining moments: funny, brutal, and irresistibly catchy.
Groove, Grit, and Gratitude
After four high-energy tracks, the band shifted gears into the hazy cool of “Doin’ Time.” Jakob leaned into the mic with effortless swagger, his voice dripping with the same laid-back melancholy that made the original iconic. The audience swayed in rhythm, hands in the air, as the sun set in orange and purple hues over Daytona. “Summertime, and the livin’s easy…” never sounded more right.
Wilson’s bass tone was butter-smooth, while Gaugh’s light cymbal work kept the groove alive and hypnotic. It was one of those rare festival moments where thousands of people seemed perfectly in sync—no pushing, no chaos, just shared bliss. Jakob even slipped in a quick freestyle about being back on tour, smiling as the crowd cheered him on.
The band followed with “STP,” an underrated gem from Second-Hand Smoke that showed off Sublime’s punkier edge. Jakob screamed through the chorus with surprising aggression, his voice carrying that raw, live-wire energy his dad once channeled so naturally. “We used to play this one in little clubs in Long Beach,” he said after. “Feels good to bring it back here.”
Heart and Memory
The transition into “Garden Grove” was seamless. The haunting, shimmering chords hung in the humid air, and suddenly the mood turned introspective. Jakob sang, “We took this trip to Garden Grove…” and for a moment, it felt like time had slowed. The reggae groove, the lazy sway, the ghost of Bradley in every word—it was all there. People were hugging, some in tears. This wasn’t just a concert; it was communion.
The next song, “Badfish,” solidified that emotional connection. Easily one of Sublime’s most beloved tracks, it floated like a warm ocean breeze through the crowd. Jakob delivered it with tenderness, clearly aware of the song’s weight in the band’s legacy. When he hit the line “But I’m a badfish too,” the audience’s voices rose to meet his. For a few minutes, everyone at Rockville was part of something bigger than themselves.
Wilson, ever stoic but clearly moved, flashed a quick smile at his new frontman. Gaugh cracked a grin as he tossed a drumstick in the air. You could feel the gratitude radiating from the stage.
Sunset, Smoke, and Sublime Soul
After such a heavy emotional moment, the band lightened the mood with “Burritos.” The bouncy rhythm and playful lyrics were met with laughter and dancing. Jakob’s charisma really shone here—he doesn’t try to be his father, but he honors him by simply being authentic. His banter was natural, his stage presence magnetic, and his smile pure joy.
“Ensenada” followed, another rarity that gave Wilson a chance to stretch out on bass. The reggae groove pulsed through the crowd like a heartbeat, and for a few minutes, the whole festival felt like a beach party. The smell of weed drifted stronger now, fans moving lazily to the rhythm as palm-tree visuals washed across the big screens.
Then came the inevitable—“What I Got.” The opening strum was met with a thunderous roar. Jakob didn’t even need to sing the first line; the crowd handled it for him. It’s one of those songs that transcends generations, a perfect distillation of Sublime’s philosophy: love, pain, music, and resilience.
Jakob’s voice cracked slightly on the second verse, but it didn’t matter. The imperfection was part of the charm. “Love is what I got,” thousands sang in unison, and you could see tears in more than a few eyes. The message hit hard—after all these years, that lyric still feels like a mantra for anyone who ever found comfort in Sublime’s music.
Closing with Fire and Grace
With the crowd still buzzing, the band tore into “Same in the End.” It was the night’s purest punk explosion—fast, raw, and unfiltered. Gaugh’s drumming was ferocious, Wilson’s bass thundered, and Jakob leapt around the stage like a man possessed. The energy was relentless, a cathartic release after all the mellow grooves.
Finally, they closed with “Santeria.” The stage lights dimmed to a soft amber glow as Jakob stepped forward, alone at first. He strummed those familiar chords and sang the opening lines quietly, almost reverently. The audience sang every word, their voices echoing across the festival grounds like a prayer.
When the full band kicked in, the emotion peaked. Wilson’s bass wrapped around Jakob’s voice like a warm blanket, and Gaugh’s drums carried the song with gentle precision. It was the perfect ending—a song about love, loss, and letting go, performed by a son continuing his father’s story.
As the final chords faded, Jakob raised his guitar toward the sky. “This one’s for Brad,” he said simply. The crowd erupted, chanting “SUBLIME! SUBLIME!” long after the band left the stage.
Legacy Reimagined
It’s easy to be cynical about reunions, especially ones involving the children of fallen icons. But this was different. This wasn’t exploitation or nostalgia bait—it was evolution. Jakob Nowell doesn’t just resemble his father; he embodies the same free spirit that made Sublime so vital. He brings new energy, new perspective, and a deep understanding of what the music means.
Eric Wilson and Bud Gaugh, reunited after years apart, seemed rejuvenated. Their chemistry was undeniable. The rhythm section grooved like no time had passed, their interplay tight but relaxed, full of that distinct Sublime looseness that feels effortless but is anything but.
The band didn’t overproduce the show or try to modernize the sound. It was raw, warm, analog—just like Sublime should be. No pyrotechnics, no backing tracks, just three musicians and a catalog of songs that have outlasted their era.
A Band Reborn
Sublime’s set at Welcome to Rockville 2025 wasn’t just a highlight of the festival—it was a defining moment. You could feel generations connecting: older fans reliving their youth, younger fans discovering a band that shaped modern alternative and reggae rock.
The magic of Sublime has always been in the contradictions. They were sloppy yet tight, tragic yet joyful, dark yet sun-drenched. That tension still exists in every song, and under Jakob’s guidance, it feels alive again.
By the end of the night, people lingered in the field, still humming “Santeria,” still swaying under the Florida sky. For a brief, beautiful stretch of time, Sublime was back—not as a tribute act, but as a living, breathing band.
Grade: A
Sublime’s return to the stage at Rockville 2025 was nothing short of triumphant—a perfect mix of heart, history, and hope. Jakob Nowell proved that the legacy of his father isn’t a shadow but a torch, and he’s carrying it proudly into the next generation.