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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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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