Bren Lukens
Johnny Brendas
1201 Frankford Ave.
Philadelphia
June 23, 2026
Pulling up to Johnny Brenda's last night to catch Modern Baseball's Bren Lukens, my wristband was barely around my knuckles by the time I ran into someone who I hadn't seen in at least six years. This experience repeated itself throughout the night over and over again: I ran into friends I’d thought I’d never go a day without, old crushes that I thought I were the love of my life, people I’d seen in passing but never really had any interactions with. I was surrounded by faces that I’ve shared an assortment of basements, back yards, and living rooms with. It feels like a high school reunion but it’s not: we all went to DIY together. About 15 years ago, many of us played, organized, and attended house shows in and around the Philly area. One of the more popular bands to emerge from Philly during this time was the emo/pop-punk outfit Modern Baseball, a band that has seemed to only gain popularity since their dissolution in the late 2010s. Bands break up, side projects become main projects, life happens; it's a tale as old as music itself. After taking some time off to focus on their mental health, Bren Lukens has returned to music with a special performance supported by familiar faces of people who share the memories of the early 2010s Philly DIY scene.
I made my way farther into the upstairs of Johnny Brenda’s and was met with a sign that politely asked attendees to refrain from excess recording or photos which I made a personal note to adhere by. As Smashing Pumpkins’ 1979 faded out from the house speakers, Bren Lukens took the stage in Philly for their first time in years. Fittingly, the stage for the evening was a replica living room, adorned with furniture, rugs, records, a cat tree, and empty water glasses scattered throughout for that extra authenticity of a lived-in space. It felt like a house show in 2012 because, in a way, it was.
The nostalgia kept flowing as Bren began their set with Redo, starting with the opening track of Modern Baseball’s debut album Sports. The crowd sang along to every lyric, ad lib, and sometimes jumped in to do backing vocals. This process would also repeat itself through their set. Bren could’ve turned their microphone off at any point of the show and the room still would’ve been filled with his words. There was very little talking between songs — Bren joked that they'd lost their ability to banter. That was ok though — because every time a song ended, the audience was hungry for another. Bren could’ve played for 20 minutes or tw0 hours; time seemed to not only stand still, but reverse itself as a room full of 30 somethings were teleported into their younger selves. After thanking the people in attendance, most of whom Lukens had invited personally, they treated us to a new song, “Happy To See You," which could've been a hint towards more music and shows to come. Bren is opening for Jeff Rosenstock's Chicago residency next month so maybe we'll hear more new songs then?
It’s time to let you in on a little secret, dear reader: I’ve never been a fan of Modern Baseball. Even after this incredibly intimate and vulnerable performance, I’m not totally sure that I am now. But the growth of not only Bren but the other people in that room was amazing to witness and put into perspective. It filled me with a sense of pride and hope for the current generation of basements, backyards, and living rooms dwellers that will hopefully one day look back at their time and see the impact on music and each other that playing in those spaces can bring.
