Jon Bellion takes Forest Hills behind the curtain for 1 BIG SHOW
- carsydog0
- Aug 26
- 3 min read
Updated: 6 days ago
There is a rare kind of magic in watching an artist who seems to exist both everywhere and nowhere.
If you were at Forest Hills Stadium on August 23, you witnessed a show in three acts, each distinct, yet stamped with Jon Bellion’s unmistakable fingerprints. Early in the show, Bellion paused, taking it all in. “This is something I never thought I’d see again,” he said, scanning the sold-out crowd. There was awe in his voice, but also a flicker of disbelief, like he was trying to reconcile the songwriter who hides comfortably behind pop’s biggest radio hits with the headliner standing in front of thirteen thousand people. When writing Father Figure, Bellion said he always imagined it was meant for stadiums but he never actually pictured himself in one, let alone selling out twice. Yet here he was, on home turf, finally bringing that vision full circle.
Act I: Liftoff
“FATHER FIGURE” opened the night like a manifesto: pounding piano, swelling chorus, the kind of song that feels genetically engineered for a stadium. From there, it was all momentum. “OBLIVIOUS,” “80’s Films,” and “WASH” followed, the last taking a welcome detour into Oasis’ “Wonderwall,” which he dedicated to his wife.
By the time he reached “ITALIA BREEZE,” it was clear Bellion wasn’t interested in carbon-copying his records. The songs stretched and bent, stitched with fresh harmonies and string flourishes.
Act II: Cove City, Reprise
Then the show took a hard left turn. The lights softened, a massive orchestra filled the stage, and suddenly we were in Bellion’s Cove City universe. Back in 2020, when live music was on the backburner, Bellion staged an ambitious virtual concert at Cove City Sound Studios. At Forest Hills, he resurrected that vision on an almost absurd scale. And this time, Bellion had a live audience, which he drew into the music, having fans sing harmonies and vocalize to become part of the live soundscape.
Bellion re-imagined his catalog with fresh arrangements, backed by an expansive band from Clyde Lawrence to Cove City owner Richie Cannata himself. When introducing Richie to fans, Bellion shared gratitude that Richie had let him into many rooms he felt he had no business being in.
(Editor's Note: I’ll admit, I felt the same way at that moment. Forest Hills was one of those rooms for me: the opportunity to photograph my favorite artist and my first stadium show. I want to pause here and say thank you to Jon, Louis, and team for opening doors in the same way Richie did.)
"Simple & Sweet," which captivated listeners online from the original Cove City show, shone again, somehow feeling intimate even in a sea of fans. Bellion worked the orchestra like a synth pad, building and dismantling arrangements in real time, reveling in the friction between precision and chaos. It was all goosebumps in Queens.
Act III: Heavyweights
The final act snapped back to the high-voltage energy of the opener, but darker, heavier, more guttural.
“KID AGAIN” stretched like a daydream in real time, with Bellion bouncing across the stage with boyish wonder amid red-soaked visuals. That innocence gave way to “MODERN TIMES,” a sharper, more cynical take on adulthood, before the set twisted into the satirical punch of “RICH AND BROKE,” paired with cartoon-like projections of wealth and excess. All of that escalation funneled into the emotional knockout of “DON’T SHOOT,” a track where he wrestles with childhood trauma and speaks directly to both his younger self and his children.
In true Bellion fashion, the encore began with the electrifying sprawl of “Jim Morrison.” his voice cut through the night—forceful, almost shouting, filling every corner of Forest Hills without losing precision. The chorus became a shared heartbeat as thousands of hands rose, moving and pulsing together.
And then it all fell away. As if emptying his pockets of everything left unsaid, Bellion closed with the spoken-word section of “MY BOY.” No beat, no hook, just words echoing inside our beautiful little minds.
The Weight of a Homecoming
At several points in the show, Bellion seemed overwhelmed by the gravity of it all. Gratitude, excitement, sure, but probably a bittersweet cocktail of all sorts of other feelings. “You guys have given me enough for the next six years all over again,” a line met with boos that were less angry than playfully pleading. Fans weren’t ready to let him slip back into the shadows. This vulnerability wasn’t showmanship; but a deliberate willingness to open the curtain into the music and the moments that shaped it. As one fan put it, 1 Big Show showed humanity, authenticity, emotion, and connection in a world that often forgets about those things.