@colekincart (words n’ pics)

This past April 2nd, The Format graced The Salt Shed for a sold-out stop on their Boycott Heaven tour — a show that, for me, felt a long time coming.

Before getting into the night itself, it’s worth situating who The Format are, especially if your entry point was adjacent. The Arizona duo — Nate Ruess and Sam Means — built a cult following in the early 2000s with a brand of indie rock that leaned theatrical, vulnerable, and at times almost baroque in its composition. For many, Ruess’ voice is more immediately recognizable through his later work with Fun. — the band behind “Some Nights” and “We Are Young” — or even his solo contributions like “Just Give Me a Reason” with P!nk. But The Format exists as something a bit more intimate in that lineage — less arena-sized, more interior.

I came to The Format a bit backwards. Like a lot of people my age, Fun. was the gateway. But somewhere in high school, I found my way into Dog Problems — their 2006 release that quickly became one of those albums you return to without thinking. It had range without losing itself, balancing orchestral swells with sharp, often self-aware lyricism. Songs about relationships, sure, but also about family, identity, and all the quieter tensions in between.

There was a point where I thought I’d never get to see them live. Back in 2020, during college visits, they had announced a small run of reunion shows, including one in Chicago that happened to line up perfectly with my trip to Illinois Tech. It felt almost too convenient. My dad (who I’d spent years dragging to shows he didn’t quite understand) was finally going to come with me to something we both genuinely cared about. And then, like most things that year, it fell apart. Postponed, delayed, and eventually gone.

So when the band resurfaced last year, nearly two decades after Dog Problems, it carried a different weight. Their latest release, Boycott Heaven, arrives not as a nostalgic retread but as a continuation — shaped in part by Ruess teaching himself guitar during the band’s time away. There’s a sense that this tour isn’t just about promotion, but about closure, or maybe even correction — especially for cities like Chicago that were skipped the last time around (something Ruess made a point to apologize for on stage).

The night itself felt like a convergence of timelines. Fans who had been there since the mid-2000s stood alongside people like me, who found the band later through side doors and algorithms. It didn’t feel like a reunion show so much as a shared memory being actively rewritten.

They opened with “If Work Permits,” a personal favorite and an immediate statement of intent, before moving through “Tie the Rope” and “The Compromise.” The setlist — 22 songs deep with two encores — struck that rare balance between honoring the past and making space for the present. Tracks from Boycott Heaven held their own alongside staples like “Dog Problems,” “Pick Me Up,” and “Janet.”

The first encore slowed things down in a way that felt almost disarming. Just Ruess, a guitar, and “On Your Porch.” It was one of the few moments where the scale of the room seemed to collapse inward. I’ll admit — that was the one that got me.

They closed things out with a mix of deep cuts and surprises, including “Inches and Falling” and a tour debut of “A Save Situation,” not to mention a cover of Losing My Religion by R.E.M. that felt both reverent and fully their own.

Beyond the setlist, there was something reassuring about the performance itself. They sounded tight, engaged, like a band that still believes in what they’re doing. Getting to photograph the show added another layer for me — a way to stay present while also trying to hold onto it.

All things considered, this was more than just a long-awaited concert. It was a reminder of how music can stretch across time — how something you loved in high school can come back around and meet you in a completely different place.

And if there’s anything left to ask, it’s this: next time, I’d like to be there with my dad.