Briston Maroney and Peach Pit Co-Headline a Rain-Soaked NYC Night
New York didn’t exactly roll out the red carpet for Peach Pit and Briston Maroney’s two-night run at Pier 17. But it might’ve done something better. On the second night of their co-headlining stop, the storm clouds from night one lingered just long enough to throw some drama into the mix, delivering a kind of divine backdrop that no lighting rig could replicate: rain-spattered ponchos, double rainbows, and a skyline that shimmered, almost acting like the show’s unofficial third act.
That’s the magic of Pier 17. Perched above the East River, with the Brooklyn Bridge looming stage-left and Manhattan’s skyscrapers behind you, it’s a venue that doesn’t need much help to impress. The staff are welcoming, the sound is sharp, and when the weather cooperates (or doesn’t, in this case), you get a show that feels cinematic. You could make a real case for Pier 17 being among the crown jewel of outdoor venues. Just don’t tell Red Rocks.
Opening duties fell to bnny, who eased the still-arriving crowd into the evening with a breezy, melancholic set under clear skies. It was the kind of slow-burn start that gives a show room to grow. And it did. By the time Briston Maroney walked out around 7 p.m., the skies had shifted. A fresh downpour hit the crowd, and a rainbow arced behind the bridge like someone cueing a perfect music video moment. Maroney, looking like your favorite camp counselor’s cooler, weirder older brother—skirt, wolf tee, floral patches and all—took it as a good omen. And then he ripped.
Don’t let the drum circle aesthetic fool you. Maroney’s set was pure voltage. He wailed, stomped, and let loose like a man trying to turn the rooftop into his own personal garage show. Rain be damned. By the end of his set, the deck was packed, the ponchos were out in force, and the crowd was all in.
Then came Peach Pit, just as golden hour shift to twilight. They took the stage in renaissance garb (think art school kids crashing a Shakespeare festival) and launched into a tight, expressive set that showcased just how seasoned and locked-in this band has become.
The night hit its emotional peak when lead singer Neil Smith brought his dad out on stage for a harmonica cameo. It was the kind of personal, unguarded moment that reminds you why live shows matter. Not for the flawless execution or even the big crowd-pleasers. But for these little windows of humanity, shared in real-time. You know this was a moment that dad (or son for that matter) won’t soon forget.
After a stripped-back encore of “Peach Pit”, the track that gave the band its name, the band reemerged once more in full I Love NY tees, grinning through the final notes of “Tommy’s Party.”
There’s a lot to be said for perfect weather, clean sound, and well-behaved lighting. But there’s something undeniably memorable about a concert that has to wrestle with the elements a bit. This one had heart, hooks, and just the right amount of chaos.
