I’ll admit, I arrived with a set of preconceived notions. Sue me. 

I knew upon arriving that I’d be meeting an up-and-coming local act by the name Beach Bunny. I knew that they were a young quartet, three of their four members new-minted college grads, and that lately they’ve begun garnering some substantial attention. I figured on a couple of drinks with the typical fistful of self-saturated quotes from a few cocky, talented kids. Textbook.

Or so I thought.

So here I am, standing in the Gman facing three-fourths of the Beach Bunny lineup. They have taken up stools around the elbow of the bar. Furthest away sits Anthony Vaccaro (bassist). Long haired and large, he’d be imposing if not for his easy, reserved manner. To his left is Jon Alvarado (drums), smiling like a kid who’s just learned Christmas will come twice this year. Around the bend from Alvarado sits Matt Henkels (guitar), with a taciturn cool reminiscent of a pre sitar-fetish George Harrison. We are awaiting the arrival of Lili Trifilio, vocalist and the band’s primary creative engine, who has been detained at sound check.         

     After preliminary introductions are concluded, I ply the guys with a round of drinks. Vaccaro, an abstemious drinker, declines my offer, but Henkels and Alvarado accept after minor prodding. We sip our beverages and fall to passing the trifles that strangers pass between themselves when easing into an acquaintance. 

     In time and true front-woman fashion, Trifilio arrives, just at the moment our anticipation has reached a suitable peak. Her hair is a brassy orange. Small-framed, she hops onto her bar stool and smiles. Now the band is assembled. Trifilio’s appearance has an effect like plugging the flux-capacitor into a time traveling DeLorean. An electric current passes through the band. Their chemistry is obvious. Chummy and genial small talk breaks out instantly, the first hint that my all my prior judgements are shot before they can break for the door. But the tape recorder is running, so here goes nothing…

     Since I have to start someplace, I ask about influences. “Pavement!” puts in Vaccaro immediately. Henkels and Alvarado give out a whoop of approbation and I note one of the band’s more endearing tendencies: Beach Bunny laughs in unison. But as laughter subsides, Henkels and Alvarado direct my question to its appropriate target, saying, “Lili’s the songwriter though. You should ask her.” It’s apparent that respect for Trifilio’s considerable songwriting skills is not limited to her fan base. She clearly possesses the admiration of her bandmates as well, and though it takes some mild encouragement to get her to open up on this point, when she does, the bands that make her list are Vampire Weekend, The Strokes, and fellow mid-westerners Hippo Campus, each of whom can be found in greater or lesser measure in her uniquely pensive-yet-buoyant compositions. She also admits to being “down for just straight pop,” adding, “I love a good Avril Lavigne,” with a wink and a nod. 

     But when it comes to her personal tune-smithing approach, Trifilio’s all about what feels right. “I’m not really trying to write in a specific way,” she says, “It just kind of flows.” 

     Typically, Trifilio brings new material to the band after she’s fleshed it out to about 60% completion with lyrics, basic chords, and melody. “I’d say most stuff is completed to the point where I could play it acoustic. But it’s all the bonus stuff that makes it rock so hard,” she says.

     And rock they do. Trifilio’s idiosyncratic style weds introspective, sometimes melancholic lyrics to glossy, punk-informed indy-pop, each song polished to a high shine one might expect from a much older band. Beach Bunny’s commitment to the pop aesthetic and to making quality, approachable music gives them something in common with the young Beatles. “At the end of the day,” says Trifilio, “when I’m trying to write a song, I’m writing mostly for myself. So as long as I like it, I’m fine with it. And I like pop music.” The band nods along in agreement. A wiry grin creeps across Alverado’s lips. “Yeah. You can show us to your mom and she won’t turn it off,” he says, and Beach Bunny laughs. When chuckling subsides, Henkels offers his perspective. “Accessible music is cool,” he says, “people like to shit on it, but secretly, everybody loves accessible music.”

     Beach Bunny’s broad appeal has also brought unexpected advantages. Trifilio comments thoughtfully on her band’s ability to pair with a wide variety of acts: “with this project, we’ve been able to play with a bunch of different bands and it always seems to work out for some reason. We’re involved in the emo scene. We’re involved in the indy scene. Both crowds like us.” Beach Bunny has shared the bill along side acts as diverse as Husker Dü, Alkaline Trio, PUP, Gwar, and Bob Mould. But the band unanimously agrees that tonight’s show at North Side venue Metro, which pairs them along side emo dons Death Cab For Cutie, takes the cake. 

     When asked how the recent rise in popularity feels, Beach Bunny takes a collective breath. “It’s like a dream come true. It’s insane,” says Vaccaro. Trifilio and all nod their assent. “We hit a million monthly listeners on Spotify yesterday and I remember looking at it and just being like ‘this is stupid,’” comments Henkels. Even Trifilio admits to being at a loss to understand some of her band’s mounting stats. “It’s very hard to process, especially the statistics. I feel like when we go to shows, that’s when we see, oh wow, this is the impact,” she says, gesturing to the front of the building, where outside the ticket line stretches a full block. “Our lives haven’t changed that much, except for these spurts of just craziness.”

     Beach Bunny has even begun to garner some celebrity attention; most recently, Bill Odenkirk, who tweeted out Trifilio and Co. as his favorite new band. The Better Call Saul star even went so far as to arrange a meet-up during Beach Bunny’s recent western tour.

     But for all the recent exposure, Beach Bunny is still very much a working band, Vacarro and Alvarado employed at a Record Exchange and Best Buy respectively. Henkels and Trifilio are between jobs, Trifilio herself hunting employment in journalism (her degree field) or in childcare. “I like kids a lot,” she says somewhat sheepishly. 

     When it comes time for another round, all band members decline. Beach Bunny is not a partying band, they tell me, but nor are they tea-totalers either. “It’s more like trying to avoid sobriety while trying to maintain our fuckin’ goal for the night,” puts in Alvarado, and Beach Bunny laughs. Within a few minutes, an employee of the venue appears. Alas, it is time for the band to head backstage. After the customary pat-down, I enter the venue as well, take a position to the right of the stage, and wait, pondering. 

     I’m wondering just what exactly to do with these kids. Remember I mentioned preconceived notions? Well. It is a stone-cut  truth that when dealing with musicians, artists, and (ahem) writers too, one gets used to navigating a certain topography of ego. Personalities ranging in size from boulder to ice-berg. Do it long enough and you’ll become a sort of Tenzing Norgay for human conceit. Consequently, I had on arrival a map in my mind, from which I intended to navigate toward an analysis of the pitfalls inherent in the rise of a talented, self-satisfied young band. And I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for those thoughtful, good natured kids, who, infuriatingly, seem committed to undermining my meticulously engineered cynicism at every turn. Those charming, decent bastards! And it is in this frame of mind that I watch Beach Bunny take the stage to the cheers of a packed auditorium. 

     With very little ado, the band launches into “6 weeks”. Unprompted, the audience joins Trifilio on the chorus, chanting along “can we go back? can we go back?” with honest investment. It’s clear that these people are not just biding time until the headliners arrive. 

     Beach Bunny delivers a spirited performance, their songs mildly amped for the stage to draw just enough punkrock sensibility to the surface. As they strike the opening bars of “Sports”, a knot of dancing erupts nearby. Between songs, Trifilio peppers in light, economical banter in her daisy-bright voice. During one such pause, a guy in the crowd yells “I love you, Lili!” In response, Trifilio giggles off-handedly and leads the band directly into the next tune, as though adulation were entirely beside the point. And for Beach Bunny, it is. The band plays with the kind of intensity indicative of those who take their work seriously. Trifilio sings her songs of heartbreak and contemporary ennui in piercing earnest, not by rote. 

     Beach Bunny concludes their set amid cheers and quietly, methodically gather their gear and go. In due time, Death Cab emerges, and though they are in fine form, it’s quickly apparent that Beach Bunny has upstaged them a measure. It takes several songs before I realize how, but it becomes clear as I watch Gibbard strap on and briefly inspect the guitar a stagehand has just handed him- for those seasoned, career musicians, the stage is a given. By comparison, Beach Bunny is in that golden phase of a band’s evolution, wherein creative output is exemplary, but they have not yet learned to take the stage for granted. And this is what makes a Beach Bunny show a pleasure to watch, every time. 

     I hang around for a few more songs. I’ve heard a rumor that Chance the Rapper will join Death Cab in the course of the night, but I’ve seen what I came for. It’s time to head home. I leave feeling buoyed by pleasant revelations. It’s good to have your preconceived notions smashed by the unexpected, and Beach Bunny certainly qualifies as such. I came prepared for the typical self-stroking rock’n’roll interview. Instead, I found four youngsters dedicated to a shared aesthetic, and as committed to one another as they are to producing fine music. Whatever follows for Trifilio and the boys, I can think of no surer formula for success than the one they have already adopted as if by instinct. Just four local kids chasing down greatness. Take note Chicago- Beach Bunny has arrived.