Interpol. Madison Square Garden. A frigid February 16th, 2019. Nothing could have prepared me for this concert. Ever.
As we emerged from the subway and faced the front door of Madison Square Garden, it hit me. We were seeing Interpol. The giant LED sign lit up with an oddly dystopian advertisement. We were seeing Interpol. Instead of searching for a place where we could eat dinner, we went straight into the Pennsy Food Hall and enjoyed some pre-gig udon soup. We also played an unhealthy amount of Head’s Up and knew exactly four of the topics per game. Twilight Collective may make a great trivia team, but never invite us to play Head’s Up. We’re that bad. After wandering through the Adam Levine collection in K-Mart (which was, in fact, extremely bland and boring) to kill some time, we arrived back at the Garden, ready to enter. Unfortunately, there was a Sesame Street performance going on, and we were left to wait with the other Interpol fans until it was over, right next to the walled-off pile of strollers. During this time, we airdropped memes to people named Ian and Officer Nasty and worked our hardest to promote the blog. When we were finally let in, we watched as the seats filled with middle aged couples, groups of people in their late 20s, and a few sets of teenagers like us. Let me tell you, the crowd at an Interpol concert in 2019 is a strange one. After waiting for about a half hour, Snail Mail came onstage and gave us a short but sweet set with rainbow lighting and almost-southern charm (they’re from Baltimore!). After that, Car Seat Headrest came on. It was a wild cowbell-infused dance party complete with Will Toledo throwing carrots (yes, carrots) into the crowd. We were the second group of people to get up and start dancing along, after a cute couple a few rows ahead of us who left immediately after CSH’s set. Then, finally, following hours of excitement, Interpol graced the stage of Madison Square Garden. Interpol had comforted me through my teenage sadness, and now they were right in front of me, forcing me to confront my past emotions. With every new song was a new memory, from watching the Paul Thomson Say Hello to the Angels tribute with Alli the day we met to dancing to Evil in my kitchen after school to sobbing my eyes out in the back of my mom’s car listening to NYC to sitting on my bed listening to C’mere and desperately wishing that someone would love me. Oh yeah. It was that kind of night. Despite the fact that Interpol had the stage presence of a lukewarm bowl of oatmeal, they still managed to convey the heavy, tense emotion that the crowd was feeling. I must admit, it must be very difficult to put on a good show when the entire audience is reliving a different memory with every song. But in a way, doesn’t that make it better? Doesn’t it make the concert so much better that everyone in that crowd had a personal connection to the songs being played, whether by Interpol themselves or Car Seat Headrest, who had brought in a large portion of the crowd? Anyway, that side-rant aside, the energy of this concert was more like an ominous storm cloud that hung over the stadium until a banger like Say Hello to the Angels or Slow Hands came on. Combined with the fog machines and the primary light colors spilling across the two spinning disco balls, this heavy, electric energy created a connection among everyone standing (or sitting) in the crowd that night. Whether we were two teenage music journalists seeing our favorite band or a young couple seeing their favorite band or a group of friends reliving some 2000s nostalgia, we were seeing Interpol. Every single one of us.
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This is going to be the WILDEST article I've ever written. I will be describing this gig in vivid detail. This whole night felt like a dream. Anyway, before I get to my new friends and nearly getting kicked in the face by Paul Smith, let's talk about my history with Maximo Park. I started listening to Maximo Park when I was in 8th grade. I was sitting in my English class after a three hour round of statewide standardized testing, screwing around and playing agar.io on my school-issued laptop. I know. Real mature. Anyway, I was tired of listening to the same music all the time on Spotify. I listened exclusively to Phantom Planet for a month, and I was, sure as heck, over them. I came across my favorite playlist of all time, which shall be linked below: When I saw that photo of some tired, sweaty Strokes, I knew it was going to be good. And it was. My favorite song on that playlist was called Our Velocity. It was by a band called... Well, can you guess? Maximo Park, of course! I loved this song dearly. I didn't want to download it on iTunes immediately, for some reason. I decided to download it on my favorite illegal(?) video-downloading app, instead. That weekend, my mom, aunt, cousin, sister and I drove to Virginia for a gymnastics competition. I listened to Our Velocity for literally. The. Whole. Drive. I loved that song that much. Anyway, fast forward to July 8th, 2016. That was a rough day for me. I remember all of the small details, like hearing Blackout by Breathe Carolina in a Foot Locker and almost getting run over by a Zamboni in Sam's Club. If you read our 2016 recap, you know about that one. We went into Lambertville for dinner that night. The streets felt a bit lonely, but almost magical, in a way. If you've been to Lambertville, you'll know the vibes I'm talking about. It's a little town between the mountains and the river with almost no cell service, and surprisingly good Peruvian cuisine. I didn't eat anything that night. Or the night after. I passed out on the floor after showering and decided that was it. I was done. No amount of almond milk could save me. Fast forward to July 11th. My wifi was out, and we went to the mall to get our router checked out at the Apple Store. When we got home, I decided to lay on the ground in my backyard and watch the sunset. I was listening to Box Codax. I accidentally downloaded a few songs off iTunes from Hellabuster while my wifi was out. Whoops. There goes my cell. But anyway, after twenty minutes of quiet reminiscence on 8th grade and the year it had been, a song that will always be special to me came on shuffle. That song was Maximo Park's Midnight On The Hill. For all of July 2016, I listened to Maximo Park and Box Codax exclusively. If I had to credit two bands with saving my summer, it would be them. Now onto the concert. I arrived at The Foundry at 7:35, bought some merch, sent my dad off to the Dad Section, and secured a spot at barricade for myself. After Active Bird Community's set, before Maximo Park went on, I heard the people to my left discussing the setlist. I tried to get a photo, but it didn't work. We all just knew one thing: Graffiti wasn't on the setlist. We devised a plan to hear our beloved song. We tweeted (resisting the urge to say twote here) Maximo Park seven minutes before they went on. We tweeted everything from 'so excited to hear Graffiti tonight!' to 'Graffiti got me through some difficult teenage romances' (with a broken heart emoji) to 'Graffiti was my grandma's favorite song. She died last year.' Unfortunately, none of those were retweeted (retwote?) by the band before their set, so we thought our beloved Graffiti could only be accessed via YouTube videos from older gigs. Well, fortunately for my newfound squad of Maximo Park fans, that wasn't the case. During one of Paul Smith's frequent 'talky bits,' my new pal Helen quietly raised her hand. "Do you have a request?" Paul asked, not even into the mic. "Can you play Graffiti?" "You'll have to sing to me in French. That's the only answer to that." But after a quick look at his band mates, Paul proudly exclaimed: "Screw it. We'll do it! As they say in the United States, screw it! Screw it!" And then, they launched into Graffiti. All I remember is screaming "WE DID IT!!!!!" To Helen and John before becoming completely entranced by Paul's dance moves. So entranced I literally gifted him my nasty, sweaty, Pura Vida bracelet that I wore while laying in the grass in my backyard on July 11th, 2016. And then people started giving him shoes, to which someone behind me said: "welcome to Philly!" A few songs later, Paul told us he'd experienced Philadelphia in a half hour: everything from Philly cheesesteaks to sitting in a bar watching the Sixers win a game. That made me feel really proud of what I'd consider my home city. After the show, I actually got to meet Maximo Park and told Paul I had a chemistry exam first thing the next morning. "Whoa, what a weeknight for you then! Get home, study, cram those facts in your brain!" I laughed and thanked him and left the Foundry absolutely buzzing. To (most likely indirectly) quote my new friend John, "these guys played Glastonbury a few years back. It's crazy that they'd really have a gig this small. American fans definitely have an advantage for bands like this." (The photo below makes me feel SO SHORT. I'm 5'5, by the way.) So, yeah. In conclusion, I'd just like to thank Maximo Park for the amazing night that was November 29th, 2017. And as I sit in my kitchen with the remnants of a migraine and legs that are still sore from jumping around on Wednesday night, I could never be more thankful for all they've done for me.
Since Alli wrote an article about surviving a general admission concert, I decided to write an article on concert survival in general. Because I'm a comedic genius. I've been to four concerts so far, and based on how 2017 is looking, I'm about to go to a bunch more. Here's everything I've learned from those concerts.
Last month, Alli and I went to our first concert together, Panic! At The Disco and Weezer. Most of the hype there was for Panic!, who I love dearly, but I am and always have been a huge Weezer fan. After Panic! At The Disco's set, a whole bunch of the emo teenagers (rawr!) went home to post to their tumblrs about it. Alli had lawn seats with her family, and since my tickets were a birthday present, I had 5th row. Security was checking everyone's tickets, so my dad told me to stay where I was, and took my ticket to go find Alli.
And then Weezer went on. They launched these giant beach balls into the crowd during their opening song, California Kids, and luckily I managed to avoid them until the end of the song. But then Hash Pipe started, and the entire venue lost it. I mean, LOST IT. I was texting Alli frantic messages of "omg where r u" and "WEEZER ARE ON GET OVER HERE," but tragically, they didn't go through. I was alone. I was trying to switch between raving to Hash Pipe and singing along and texting Alli to "get over here NOW omg where are you??????" when I was nailed in the face by a giant, presumably beer covered beach ball. I'm 5'4" and weigh 113 pounds. That beach ball knocked me over, not even kidding. I'm pretty sure I was crying while singing along to Hash Pipe. The next song was My Name Is Jonas, which I'm not too familiar with, so it was the perfect time for a full blown panic attack, apparently. I couldn't go tell security (not that I would want to!), because my dad had my ticket, and if they didn't kick me out, my spot would have been stolen. So I waited, and just hoped that somehow Rivers, Brian, Pat, and Scott could save me using the power of rock. Luckily, Alli showed up right at the beginning of If You're Wondering If I Want You To (I Want You To), and the rest of the concert was amazing. Long story short, no concert is good without a crazy concert story. |
About The AuthorLiah is a high school senior who plays guitar and loves the color yellow. She doesn't post much, but when she does, it's awesome. We promise.
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