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Sons of Legion at The Wiltern Los Angeles: The Best Band You’ve Never Heard Of (yet)
The Rock Show I sacrificed a day at ACL Fest for: Los Angeles, California | October 11, 2026 | Soul to SØL World Tour
Have you ever been the last person on earth to discover a great band? That’s familiar, right? The looks you get when you pull out your phone and share a snippet of a tune that quite literally everyone and their grandmother already knows. ....have you been hiding under a rock?
This is not one of those stories. But I thought it was.
This is a tale of discovery. Of a band whose music sounds so assured and so thoroughly established. “How TF did I miss this?” I questioned as I first scrolled ethrough their hearty Spotify catalog. I’d not heard of them. Were they someone else, a band who changed their name? .... somehow No? My social feeds and personal networks revolve around what’s new and great. I’d spent a substantial portion of my adult life in the music industry. I thought I knew all the people who knew what needed to be known. About new music, at least. How was this possible?
And yet, there I was, listening to Sons of Legion for the first time. Wondering who the hell these guys were, where they’d been hiding, and whether I needed to quietly surrender whatever credibility I had left in music journalism.
Their music had all the hallmarks of a band with decades of collective experience, multiple critically acclaimed tracks, and a formidable reputation on the touring circuit. Vocals were extraordinary, the arrangements intricate without being indulgent, their sound enormous. Surely, I thought, these guys had been around forever?
As it turns out, no.
But we’ll get to that.
Oddly, I discovered Sons of Legion during an innocent search through some of the more eccentric and interesting music halls in the country. I was in the planning stages of a journey back through the US. I’d marked down a few dates open, thinking I’d fill the time with explorations - to really cool venues and the artists they happened to be hosting. I had no grand ambitions. Only a little curiosity. Through The Wiltern’s page I found their show, and clicked over to Spotify. Their dates didn’t line up with mine, but their sound lined up with just about everything I’ve ever wanted in a band.
We’ll get to that, soon, too.
It would be easy to say that I grabbed a ticket -no sweat- and slid on over to see a show. No elaborate arrangements, no big deal, definitely no potential fangirling.
The less dignified truth? I listened to them on repeat and then deliberately rearranged my international travel plans. I already had a close-enough layover at LAX on a journey from Texas to Australia. I would leave Austin City Limits Music Festival a day early (sorry, not sorry ACL), and pop over to LA to see Sons of Legion at The Wiltern. Then fly on the next day.
Minor flight change, major win for music nerd.
There’s probably a psychological term for this sort of behaviour, but I prefer to call it “excellent musical judgement.” And, as it happens, I was right.
The Wiltern: A Theatre Worth Crossing the Country For
Los Angeles has no shortage of extraordinary music venues. The Wiltern occupies a magnificent corner of the city’s cultural history. Standing at the intersection of Wilshire and Western, the theatre is an architectural love letter to the glorious excess of the Art Deco era. A time when buildings were a little extra just because they could be. Just walking in makes you feel terribly important.
Completed in 1931, the theatre originally opened as Warner Brothers’ Western Theatre. It was a lavish movie palace at a time when Hollywood was still finding its voice. Its opening attracted some of the biggest names in early cinema. Clark Gable, Joan Crawford and James Cagney. The adjoining twelve-storey Pellissier Building, with its distinctive blue-green terracotta exterior and soaring geometric lines, was designed by architect Stiles O. Clements. Inside, the theatre’s
sumptuous interior was the work of G. Albert Lansburgh. And what an interior. The auditorium is an extraordinary confection of gilded ornaments, intricate murals, sweeping balconies and decorative flourishes. in every nook and corner. It is crowned by an enormous sunburst ceiling that rises eighty feet above the audience. The ceiling’s geometric rays evoke a fanciful skyline of Art Deco skyscrapers. Gazing up at this ceiling is a transcendent experience. Which I was busy experiencing for several minutes before I realized that other audience members were peering at me, concerned, about to shake me and ask if I’d had a stroke.
It’s utterly magnificent. Gloriously, extravagantly, wonderfully over the top.
A more remarkable fact? The building very nearly disappeared altogether. By the late 1970s The Wiltern had fallen into disrepair and was facing demolition. Los Angeles Conservancy mounted a formidable preservation campaign, one of their earliest major victories. It was restored and reopened in 1985, preserving one of the city’s most extraordinary architectural treasures for future generations of concertgoers.
I love places like this. Buildings with stories in their walls, history beneath their floors, and generations of performances lingering inside the architecture. It’s not just the spectacular and occasionally transcendant visuals. There’s something deeply satisfying about watching contemporary musicians fill a room built nearly a century earlier for precisely the same purpose.
And tonight, the room would be filled with something quite spectacular.
A Little Soul Before the Storm
I have to offer an apology to opening artist Kenny Sharp. Despite my best intentions, I only managed to catch the final three songs of his set. Thank you LA traffic, and an In-n-out Burger line that took approximately thirteen times as long as anticipated. Both sorely underestimated by yours truly. Amateur. I should know better, but at least the burger was good.
My lateness was particularly unfortunate because those three songs were excellent. Sharp is a Nashville-based singer-songwriter whose self-described Brown Liquor Music blends soul, blues, Americana and hip-hop into something rich, warm and unmistakably him. A former rapper turned genre-crossing songwriter, he’s developed a reputation for his distinctive sound. He released his Speakeasy EP in 2026 - the same year he performed at Bonnaroo - and was named one of Nashville Lifestyles’ artists to watch.
He possesses a certain effortless confidence. A performer who can walk into a room and make you feel like you’ve known his music for years. His sound carries a vintage soul sensibility, but there’s nothing dated about it. It’s lovely. Contemporary, charismatic and delivered with the sort of natural musicality that makes you crave more. Three songs? Not enough. I’d discovered another artist worth following, and most definitely worth buying concert tickets for. Next time, Kenny, I’ll be better prepared.
This was wonderful, obviously. But my bank account would probably appreciate if I’d just stop discovering musicians who live on the opposite side of the planet.
Six Musicians and a Sound That Refuses to Behave (sons of legion the wiltern los angeles)
Sons of Legion describe their music as indie soul rock, which is a perfectly reasonable starting point. But it feels a bit like trying to describe the Grand Canyon as a nice little view. Technically accurate, but wildly insufficient.
The Nashville-based six-piece occupies musical territory somewhere between Southern rock, soulful blues, gospel, Americana and unapologetically enormous guitar-driven rock and roll. Their songs wander confidently across genres - sometimes exploring several within the space of just a few minutes. Somehow they never lose their identity, and I suspect it’s due in part to Adam McInnis’ deeply soulful vocal talent.
It’s their identity that makes them so interesting. There’s an earthy, primal quality to their heavier material. Big, dirty guitar riffs that rise straight out of the red dirt of the American South, propelled by rolling basslines and drums that hit with authority. At times they approach grungy intensity. With pristine power to the soaring vocals, I briefly wonder if the theatre’s magnificent 1931 plasterwork is adequately insured.
This is beautifully big music.
The whole band, Sons of Legion onstage at the Wiltern in Los Angeles playing a live concert Jack and Adam of Sons of Legion onstage at The Wiltern live in Los Angeles Adam McInnis of Sons of Legion signing vocals at The Wiltern
The evening’s setlist was a beautiful illustration of everything that makes Sons of Legion such an exciting live act. Familiar favourites sat alongside new material, while a handful of carefully chosen covers allowed the band to demonstrate just how naturally they could inhabit someone else’s music without losing their own identity.
Opening with Wheels Fall Off, the band established the evening’s intentions immediately. No polite tentative musical introductions. The sound arrived with tremendous authority. From there, Born to Be Free, Outlaw and Wild Horse continued the momentum. There’s a wonderful physicality to this music. You feel it as much as hear it. But what I appreciated most was the sense of space.
So many contemporary rock performances are relentlessly loud; arrangements packed so tightly that there’s little opportunity to appreciate individual musicianship beneath the wall of sound. Sons of Legion aren’t afraid of volume, but they understand that power comes from contrast. Just when you’ve settled into the idea that you’re watching a rock band, everything shifts. Guitar softens to something warmer, more intricate. A blues progression unfolds, then gospel-like richness. Harmony. It feels like a Southern church on a Sunday morning.
The music swells, retreats, builds again. There’s tenderness beneath the grit, extraordinary control behind the volume, and a deep appreciation for the emotional possibilities of both silence and big sound. Just as you collectively reach spiritual enlightenment, someone unleashes a filthy guitar riff and you’re back to grinning like an idiot.
Glorious.
Their new material, including Promised Land, demonstrates that this isn’t a band content to settle into a formula after discovering something that works. There’s curiosity in their writing, a willingness to explore different textures and influences without losing the unmistakable character of their sound. One of These Days and Fall From Grace continue that journey, each offering its own blend of grit, melody and tremendous musical conviction.
And then came the covers.
I’m generally suspicious of bands who lean too heavily on covers during a headline performance. It’s a delicate business. Done well, a familiar song is an opportunity for a musician to reveal something unexpected about their influences. Done poorly, well… we’ve all witnessed bad karaoke. Fortunately, Sons of Legion understand the distinction - and the opportunity.
Their rendition of Stand By Me was a lovely reminder of just how much emotional weight can be carried by a relatively simple song. In the hands of this band, it became warm, timeless, soulful and beautifully expansive.
Then there was Phil Collins’ In the Air Tonight. There are certain songs so deeply embedded in our collective musical consciousness that attempting to reinterpret them is an inherently dangerous exercise. Not least because its legendary drum entrance has been enthusiastically air-drummed by approximately half the world’s population since 1981. I include myself in that statistic, though my particular interpretation resembles a panicked geriatric trying to swat an unusually aggressive insect.
But of course, I need not worry - this cover, too, was well understood.
By this point, the audience had long since abandoned any pretense of detached observation.
The room was moving. And then, with POWER, Sons of Legion delivered exactly the kind of closing statement the evening deserved. Enormous, unapologetic and exhilarating. Exactly like the career ahead of this exceptional crew. By those final notes, I was still grinning like an idiot.
At the centre of Sons of Legion are Adam McInnis and Jack Crenshaw, the creative partnership whose meeting ultimately brought the project to life. But the brilliance of this live band extends far beyond its founders. All six musicians bring an individuality and musical confidence that would be compelling in isolation. What impressed me most was the complete absence of competition between them. There’s an extraordinary amount of talent on that stage. Nobody appears particularly interested in proving they’re the most talented person in the room.
Instead, they listen. They play off each others’ talents and they even take a break mid-show to launch into a rousing rendition of Marty McFly’s Johnny B Goode - featuring each individual musician performing a verse in their own right. It works, phenomenally. The crowd eats it up.
The exterior of the Wiltern theater in Los Angeles, where Sons of Legion were playing live A full band shot of Sons of Legion live onstage Sons of legion co-frontman, guitarist and vocalist Jack Crenshaw
But let’s take a moment to appreciate the building blocks of a spectacular sound. Their guitar work has an almost conversational quality. I’m a sucker for a talented vocalist and sitting in this crowd is an absolute treat. There’s a depth and texture to Adam and Jack’s primary vocals that makes each song feel enormous. A wonderfully weathered, soulful quality. They can turn from intimate and vulnerable to full-throated rock power in the space of a breath. Layer in tremendous precision in the rhythm section, the bass and drums working together for a foundation that is both muscular and surprisingly fluid. In playing off each other, this band gives the music movement, allow songs to breathe and shift. It feels wonderfully organic. There’s no auto-tune. Nothing overly produced.
These aren’t musicians relying on volume or spectacle. They’re accomplished players who understand restraint, dynamics and the extraordinary emotional power of knowing precisely when to let a song breathe. Individually, each is exceptional. Together, they’re something else entirely. The combined result is breathtaking.
From the Balcony, Everybody Belonged
There is one more supremely interesting thing about Sons of Legion. Their music seems uniquely designed to appeal to quite a diverse crowd. We’re talking people who, under ordinary circumstances, would struggle to agree on absolutely anything.
We’re talking diverse. Casual trend-hopping hipsters. Retirees. Fangirlies (I say nothing about myself here). I can imagine the serious music aficionado listening with spectacles perched halfway down their nose, quietly assessing musicianship before offering an approving, crescendoing moustache-obscured hm…mmm…mm… !
The blues crowd? Total appreciation of the soul, the phrasing and deliciously expressive guitar. Gospel enthusiasts find plenty to celebrate. The country crowd appreciates the git-down storytellin’, while the Americana faithful? They happily settle into the earthy roots-driven arrangements. And the red-dirt rock crowd - oh, they’re absolutely bloody delighted. They surround a dusty outdoor stage somewhere in Texas, Bud lights raised, raucously “F*** yeah-ing” their approval as another monstrous riff tears through the evening air.
Sons of Legion are equally at home in the imagined intimacy of a smoky blues bar and the vast, open-air spectacle of a major music festival. Their appearance at Bourbon & Beyond earlier this year feels entirely appropriate. This is a sound built to travel; expansive enough to command a festival crowd and nuanced enough to reward someone sitting quietly in a theatre, paying attention to every note under that spectacular ceiling. And judging by the audience at The Wiltern, I wasn’t alone in noticing.
From my front-row balcony seat, the crowd was almost as much a spectacle. I found myself positioned between dual duos; on my right, two exceptionally enthusiastic women in their late fifties. Clutching giant White Claws and expressing various yee-haws. Topped in cowgirl hats and rhinestone-covered Miss Me jeans and enough turquoise jewelry to make a small southwestern trading post envious. On the other side, two gloriously stereotypical old Cali rocker dudes. One was extensively tattooed. Dark ‘do expertly gelled in spikes with a flawlessly 90’s goatee and button-up featuring flames and tribal designs. The other sported long, blonde Scandinavian hair and leather cuffs. He was permanently suspended in-between “duuude…” this and “duuuude…” that. I do reiterate: there’s nothing wrong with spending multiple decades refusing to compromise what was 90’s cool, ok?
Below us, the floor was an equally delightful concoction of humanity.
Couples in their sixties stood alongside leather-clad rocker chicks, country music boys and their immaculately styled girlfriends. There were bikers, hipsters chicks, man buns, people who looked suspiciously from the entertainment industry, and at least half a dozen committed Grateful Dead enthusiasts, proudly advertising their allegiance through every available item of clothing.
No obvious uniform, no single demographic, no sense that the room belonged to a particular musical tribe. The audience was wonderfully, gloriously mixed, united by an appreciation for the music - and very little else. Which, as it turned out, was rather the point.
When Music Becomes Something Bigger
There’s a particular moment in a great live performance. You stop observing the music and begin experiencing it. You and the music become one. Sound cheesy? It feels more than cheesy. It’s difficult to describe without drifting into the sort of overwrought sentimentality that usually accompanies inspirational posters featuring sunsets and dolphins. But ZFG: this is one hundred percent what I’m there for. Bring on the cheese.
And I suspect you know exactly what I mean.
You feel the music. You become aware of the physical weight of the bass, the rhythm, the rise and fall of the melody, the way a guitar note hangs in the air for a fraction longer than expected. The distinction between performer and audience begins to dissolve. You find yourself leaning forward, almost unconsciously.
There’s an electricity in the room that exists independently of the lights and speakers, carried instead through the extraordinary connection between six people onstage and hundreds of strangers who, for a couple of hours, are experiencing precisely the same thing.
Sons of Legion understand this.
Their performance was big, visceral and gloriously powerful, but it was also deeply human. There was nothing sterile or mechanically precise about the experience, despite the remarkable technical quality of the musicianship. The songs had movement and personality, moments of genuine vulnerability balanced against tremendous force. And perhaps more importantly, the band seemed to genuinely enjoy sharing it. Their joy carried on every note.
Midway, the band posed an interesting question about the future of music in an increasingly artificial world. They labelled it the AI generation. Could we be among the last generation to experience music created, performed and shared entirely through human talent and imagination?
It’s a confronting thought. Particularly when considered against the rapid development of technology capable of generating almost-human soundscape.
But not quite.
I don’t believe human music is heading towards extinction. We’ve been predicting the death of music in one form or another for decades, and yet here we are, still buying concert tickets and fanboying guitar solos.
Standing in The Wiltern, watching six exceptional musicians creating something so immediate, imperfectly human and emotionally powerful, I understood the point.
There is something irreplaceable about this. And it is irreplaceably connecting.
Throughout the evening SOL also spoke about unity and connection. The extraordinary ability of music to bring people together regardless of backgrounds, beliefs or the divisions that seem to define so much of contemporary life. It would be easy for these sentiments to feel rehearsed or overworked. Particularly in a world where every public figure appears obliged to deliver a message between songs.
But in this room, surrounded by such an improbable collection of people, the message felt entirely sincere. The evidence was standing right in front of me. An old biker, a rhinestone-covered cowgirl, a young rock fan and a gospel-loving grandmother all found kinship in the music. Not because they agreed on everything, but for those few hours, they didn’t need to.
There is something irreplaceable about this. It’s not simply the sound that matters. It’s the people making it and the people that bear witness. That exchange - no amount of algorithmic sophistication can recreate the experience of being in that room.
Eight Months. Seriously?
I’m not quite done yet. I promised I’d elaborate on their backstory because this one must be shared. About halfway through the evening, Sons of Legion shared their story. I finally received an explanation for the deeply embarrassing gap in my supposedly respectable musical knowledge.
This band had only formed eight months earlier. February of 2026.
Eight. Months. My friends… a humble WTF.
My inability to identify them as a long-established rock institution suddenly seemed considerably less concerning. The question that replaced it: How exactly is this possible!?
The band emerged in Nashville following a chance meeting between Adam McInnis and Jack Crenshaw. The pair began making music together, recognised an immediate creative connection, and set about building something more ambitious than a casual collaboration.
Crucially, they understood the challenge in finding the right musicians. This would involve more than simply recruiting people who could play their instruments. They needed personality, charisma and musical intelligence. People who could contribute something distinctive without sacrificing the collective sound.
Somehow, they found exactly that.
According to the band, in the eight months since forming, they’ve performed more than eighty shows, completed two tours across the United States, appeared at Bourbon & Beyond festival, and maintained a formidable pace of writing and recording new material. That is a solidly substantial schedule for an established touring act. Never mind a band still young enough to celebrate its anniversary with a solo-candle-topped cake.
And yet, watching them perform, you would never imagine they were anything other than seasoned musical collaborators. Who’d spent years developing their sound.
They also spoke about the considerable interest they’re attracting from record labels (rightly so), while remaining independent for the time being (excellent decision). The music industry is notoriously fond of discovering exceptional talent and then enthusiastically morphing them into something more commercially convenient. Sons of Legion are doing perfectly well without that particular intervention.
And if the extraordinary pace of their first eight months is any indication, this is a band whose trajectory could become very interesting indeed.
The Kind of Band You Tell Your Friends About
Yup, this is one of them. I’ve been fortunate to see an extraordinary quantity of live music over the years. From intimate acoustic performances in tiny bars to enormous international festivals. And sometimes, those rare performances that leave you sitting quietly afterwards, trying to understand exactly what just happened. Sons of Legion belong firmly in that last category.
It isn’t simply the quality of the musicianship, though that alone is sufficient reason to buy a ticket. It’s the combination of extraordinary talent, genuine emotional depth, tremendous live energy and an uncanny ability to connect with people across musical and cultural boundaries. Perhaps most importantly, they are a band who believe in what they’re creating. Six musicians have discovered sincerity, something extraordinary in the music they make together.
I made my way out of The Wiltern, past the magnificent murals and gilded architecture. I found myself thinking about the absurd journey that brought me there. After weeks travelling across the American Southwest - just like this band. Immersing myself in extraordinary music, large-scale music, things long anticipated. Then deliberately abandoning the final day of one of America’s great music festivals to fly to Los Angeles for a something a little newer. All before getting on a plane and heading halfway around the world. On paper, this is a spectacularly inefficient way to organise a music trip.
But sometimes the most memorable musical experiences aren’t the ones you’ve been anticipating for years. Sometimes they’re the ones that take you by surprise. The ones that remind you why you fell in love with music in the first place. Why you’ve spent so much of your life chasing concerts and writing about artists. And why, after all these years, the possibility of discovering something extraordinary still fills you with the same ridiculous enthusiasm.
So here we are.
Eight months ago, Sons of Legion barely existed as a band. They’re headed towards headlining some of the world’s great stages. And when that happens, I’ll be delighted to say I saw them at The Wiltern, slightly jet lagged, smooshed between giddy ol’ ladies and verified 90s coolguys, back when they were just getting started.
Though given my increasingly questionable willingness to rearrange international flights around concert schedules, there’s every possibility I’ll have seen them several more times by then. Sure hope so. Some habits are simply too good to break.
If Sons of Legion come anywhere near your city, buy the ticket. Don’t overthink it. Don’t wait for the next tour. And don’t let an unfamiliar name fool you. You’re about to see six exceptional musicians who have found something rare together: a sound powerful enough to shake a theatre, soulful enough to move you to tears, and human enough to remind you why live music matters. Trust me, it’s worth crossing a country for.
sons of legion the wiltern los angeles
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