Everyone is equal, everyone should be excellent to each other, and everyone should be supportive. No racist, sexist, or otherwise derogatory messages will be allowed here. We’re all one family, so be sure you act accordingly.

MCRmy members can support MCR in many ways. If there are promotional materials to distribute, you can help do that. You can also help by helping spread videos and news online when asked, or simply by talking to people you know about the band. You can help in any way that you feel comfortable.

May 24, 2011

REVIEW: Out This Weekend: The Architects, Circa Survive, and My Chemical Romance

I walked into the House of Blues a little Saturday night and only heard the last enthusiastic clang of The Architects’ drummer. Circa Survive then took their spot on stage,and after watching lead singer Anthony Green roll his imaginary ball around the stage and throw his empty hands to the floor while bellowing “f**k yeah” repeatedly, I realized that this was the same repeat offender who opened for Linkin Park at the American Airlines Center in early March. And just like that AAC show, Green was too busy slamming himself around the stage to show any care for his lyrics.

This man lives to rustle up rambunctiousness, and what he couldn’t achieve in March (whether it was the larger venue or not as many pill popping fans) he got last night. The more “screamo” his songs got the more hands shot into the air;  the faster the lights began to strobe, the harder fans began to jump and push each other. And with his t-shirt completely soaked through and plaid golfer hat that he had stolen from the crowd securely tightened on his head, he said “Y’all look like you’re ready to get crazy for MCR. I can’t get you there but maybe I can almost.” And his dream almost came true as fans began lifting each other into the air, and a spotlight picked out a pocket of fans as they almost started full-fledged moshing.
Before MCR came on, a photographer stepped on stage and raised his lens to his eye. The formerly quiet crowd shot their hands into the air in unison, and together they chanted “M-C-R,” however weakly, for maybe five seconds. But once front man Gerard Way stepped out onto the stage and the lights the HOB went black, every cell phone went into the air — like we were floating in technological star light. Strobe lights flashed one by one across the stage to the crowd’s deafening screams, and then music met sound as together both blinding light and bursting screams carried out ” NA NA NA.”
Four giant V-shaped stage pieces set up across the stage, burning red. As the V’s faded to black, the stage flashed, the colorful backdrop scanned the spectrum, changing from red to yellow to orange and flickering with such a pace that made it impossible to blink. And it didn’t even matter that I couldn’t make out one word Way was saying (except for the occasional “f**k” and “sh*t”) because my visual senses were already in overload. Between songs Way gave a Texas shout out and introduced themselves with a slow, WWF-inspired “We…are…my…chemical” and he let the crowd finish it as the floor shook with force “ROMANCE!” As “Plantetary” began playing, Way asked if we were ready to dance, and it was as if the crowd became one fluid movement of lyric and motion. Yes it generated crazy hype, and yes I was getting annoyed of the same guitar playing over and over and over and over…and over.
But to these fans, MCR was heaven, and Gerard Way was their god. Every time he shot his hands into the air, the crowds pitch shot up three octaves. I was standing by the back bar (not even in the front with the die hard fans), and I saw three girls pass by me with their inch thick eyeliner draining down their face and tears in their eyes,  their hands grasping their cameras next to their hearts. Was this a concert or a religious revival?


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