LOS ANGELES, CA- I’ve been championing Larkin Poe since 2018, when I first stumbled across their set at SXSW. Back then, it was the gritty blues riffs and sibling harmonies that pulled me in. There was a rawness to their sound—a Southern stomp that felt steeped in tradition but wired for the now. Over the years, I’ve watched Rebecca and Megan Lovell evolve without ever losing the soul that made them special. So when they released their eighth studio album Bloom earlier this year, I was primed. But even with all my admiration for their past work, I wasn’t prepared for how Bloom would hit me.
To my ears, Bloom is their best record yet. It draws from the same well as their earlier records—the blues is still baked in—but it pushes forward with a tighter focus and a more muscular, rock-forward drive. The Lovell sisters have always brought impeccable musicianship to the table—Megan’s slide guitar playing remains a thing of awe, Rebecca’s vocals carry both power and vulnerability—but here, everything feels dialed in. The songs shimmer with energy, propelled by confident arrangements and sharp lyrical storytelling. It’s not a departure from their roots, but a distillation of everything they’ve explored so far. There’s beauty in the harmonies, bite in the riffs, and an undeniable swagger throughout. Bloom is a reminder that evolution doesn’t mean abandoning your past; sometimes it means leaning into it with more purpose.
The momentum they’ve been building over the years was cemented last year when they took home a Grammy for Best Contemporary Blues Album. That win was a long time coming for fans who have followed them since the early days, and it felt like the industry finally caught up with what we already knew: Larkin Poe are one of the most vital forces in roots rock today.
And that purpose came alive at The Fonda Theatre on April 23.

But before Larkin Poe took the stage, Parker Millsap opened the evening with a set that left me pleasantly floored. I’ll admit—I wasn’t familiar with Parker’s music going in. That changed within the first few songs.
With his weatherworn voice, unpretentious charm, and that blend of gospel-tinged Americana and rock, Millsap felt like an old soul in a young man’s body. There’s an earthiness to his performance that’s hard to fake—an authenticity that immediately cuts through the noise. He joked from the stage that it was “kismet” he ended up opening for Larkin Poe, but watching him work the room, you could tell it was more than chance. He belonged there. His songs ranged from rollicking toe-tappers to introspective ballads, each one delivered with a sincerity that pulled the crowd in. There were moments when the room went still—not out of politeness, but because everyone was locked in.
What impressed me most, though, was how Millsap connected with the audience. He didn’t need big production or bravado. Just a guitar, a tight band, and a quiet kind of confidence that said, “I’m here to share something with you.” His music felt lived-in, like denim worn soft over years of honest work. Outlets like NPR have called his sound “equally suited to Southern honky-tonk and Northern soul,” but live, it was more than that. It was magnetic. So magnetic, in fact, that I found myself at the merch table after the show buying up his vinyl like a convert.

Then came the main event. Larkin Poe hit the stage with a full band and a full-throttle energy that filled every corner of The Fonda. They played with the precision of seasoned pros and the passion of artists who still love the grind. Most of the set drew from Bloom and rightfully so—songs like “Mockingbird” and “If God Is A Woman” were massive live, all thunder and stomp, while deeper cuts showcased the nuanced storytelling that runs through the record. Of course, they still catered to longtime fans, slipping in the “oldie” “Wanted Woman/ AC/DC” from the album that got me initially hooked to them, “Peach” (although, I would have loved to have heard “Black Betty” again).
There was something incredibly compelling about watching Rebecca, several months pregnant, strutting across the stage with that same signature swagger. It was rock ‘n’ roll personified: gutsy, grounded, and gloriously unbothered by anyone’s expectations. Megan stage presence, meanwhile, remains magnetic—equal parts technician, trailblazer and total badass.
Now, about that crowd. Let’s just say it skewed… seasoned. And while there’s nothing wrong with that—good music transcends age, after all—I couldn’t help but wonder what it would take to get younger audiences dialed in. Larkin Poe’s blend of musicianship, storytelling, and stage command should be catnip for anyone in their twenties who claims to love music. Maybe it’s a matter of exposure. Maybe rock ‘n’ roll just isn’t cool in the TikTok age unless it’s filtered through irony or nostalgia. But that’s a shame, because Larkin Poe are out here doing the real thing. And they’re doing it damn well.
If you’re paying attention, this isn’t your dad’s roots rock. It’s a potent, forward-looking sound built on tradition but made for now. And whether you’re 22 or 62, it’s impossible not to be moved by that kind of authenticity.
Larkin Poe aren’t just carrying the torch—they’re lighting new fires with it.
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