The Format Reunite for Boycott Heaven

Some reunions feel nostalgic. Others feel necessary. The Format’s return to the stage after twenty years belongs firmly in the second category. Formed in 2001 in Peoria, Arizona by childhood friends Nate Ruess and Sam Means, The Format built a cult following on the strength of their sharp lyricism, retro‑pop instincts, and the emotional punch of albums like Interventions + Lullabies and Dog Problems. Their hiatus in 2008 felt abrupt, especially as Ruess went on to global success with fun., earning Grammy Awards and releasing chart‑topping hits like “We Are Young,” while Means pursued film scoring, design work, and his own solo material. For years, a reunion felt impossible, until 2026, when the duo finally returned with Boycott Heaven, their first album in nearly two decades, recorded with producer Brendan O’Brien. Their tour of the same name brought them to Seattle’s Moore Theatre, and the night felt like witnessing a band reclaim their story in real time.

The Moore was buzzing long before the lights dimmed. A massive sign reading THE FORMAT hung above the stage, shifting colors throughout the night like a living marquee. Each band member stood on a colorful rug, a charming, home‑grown touch that softened the room’s historic architecture. Behind them, cloud‑like lighting glowed around the drummer and bassist, giving the stage a warm, dreamlike depth.

The guitarist walked out barefoot, immediately setting the tone for the night’s looseness. After the third song, Nate Ruess looked down at his own shoes and asked the crowd if he could take his off too, “The problem is there’s a giant hole,” he laughed, lifting his foot. Fans shouted for him to do it anyway. He did. The hole in the back of his right sock somehow made him even more charming, like a construction worker who wandered onto the stage in Dickies pants, stained boots, and a hat, except this construction worker could belt high notes like nobody else.

From the moment they opened with “No Gold at the Top” and “Tie the Rope,” the crowd was fully in it, singing every word. The Format’s catalog has always been built for communal release, big choruses, clever turns of phrase, melodies that feel like they’ve lived in your bones for years. Hearing them live again felt like flipping through a scrapbook you didn’t realize you’d been missing. They moved through “Tune Out,” “She Doesn’t Get It,” “Pick Me Up,” “Give It Up,” and “Shot in the Dark” with ease, Ruess proving once again why he’s one of the great frontmen of his generation. His voice, elastic, expressive, unmistakable, filled the room with the same urgency that defined his early work.

The middle of the set leaned into the emotional core of their discography: “I’m Ready, I Am,” “The Compromise,” “Forever,” “Dog Problems,” “Sore Thumb,” “Holy Roller,” and a gorgeous rendition of “On Your Porch.” The crowd sang so loudly during “On Your Porch” that Ruess stepped back from the mic and let the room carry the final chorus. It was one of those rare concert moments where nostalgia and presence collapse into each other, a reminder of why this band mattered then, and why they still matter now.

They closed the main set with “If Work Permits,” “Boycott Heaven,” and “The First Single,” each one landing with the kind of catharsis only a long‑awaited reunion can deliver.

The encore was its own little story. Ruess walked back out and said, “We’re going to play a few more for you, we never play the same songs, and I think that’s what every band should be able to do live.” The crowd roared. They launched into “Losing My Religion,” the R.E.M. cover that somehow fit them perfectly, tender, jangly, reverent without being precious.  “We’ve never played this next one live. I’m going to mess up, but we’re going to do it.” Then came the live debut of “No You Don’t,” a moment fans will be bragging about for years. They finished with “Janet” and “Oceans,” the room swaying like a single body.

We really didn’t know what to expect of this show, but it was great to experience. People really enjoyed it and everyone’s spirit was evidently lifted with each tune. They sang every word, shouted every bridge, and held onto every moment like it was a gift. And in many ways, it was. After twenty years, The Format didn’t just return. They reminded everyone why they fell in love with them in the first place.