Monumentour
The Co-Headlining Fall Out Boy & Paramore Concert
This is the first of three posts I’m writing about live music. Stay tuned for the other two in the following weeks, talking about two of my favorite shows of this year (those who know me can easily guess).
The first draft of my essay for college applications was about going to Monumentour, the joint Fall Out Boy and Paramore concert, in 2014. The prompt I was answering was: “Describe a place or environment where you are perfectly content. What do you do or experience there, and why is it meaningful to you?”
I don’t remember the essay in detail. I think the whole premise was about how I worked so hard in junior year and this June concert felt like a reward. I remember writing about the sunset, about how the stars started coming out as the show went on, something I rarely saw in the city but being in this outdoor venue in Long Island made it possible. I remember trying to incorporate the word ‘ethereal’ in some way into the paper (after discovering it on thesaurus-dot-com probably).
My senior year English teacher hated the draft. The essay I submitted to colleges instead was about being a middle child, only daughter of immigrant parents (lol).
But I am nothing if not an overly sentimental teen who grew into an overly sentimental adult, so I’ve been thinking a lot about that first essay and that concert recently. More specifically, I’ve been thinking about how I talked about experiencing live music.
Ever since I was a teenager, I’ve always loved going to live shows. I remember Webster Hall before it shut down (and then reopened), developed a burning hatred of Terminal 5 from a young age, and waited in line for 10 hours multiple times just to get a good spot at the barricade (I have been short for a very long time).
For the many shows I’ve been to with friends, there are more I’ve been to by myself, a teen who was deep in a ‘no-one-understands-me’ era, but who was probably actually just too scared to ask others to come along. Regardless of the company, it felt special to witness an artist doing something they loved, and being surrounded by fellow fans who loved the experience as much as I did.
When it came to this Fall Out Boy and Paramore concert, sure, I loved the two bands performing, but more than that, there was something about that moment that felt grounding to me. Have I really noticed the stars before, watching the sky turn before my eyes? Have I ever watched a sunset from beginning to end? Did I realize before that moment how incredibly large the universe was and how small I am—and how freeing that realization actually is?
And in this venue by the beach, all of us small specks of the universe gathered together to each feel something. This is what life should be, shouldn’t it? To be present, to feel, to be in community with others who are also feeling? How do I put into words what I felt right then, desperate for these admissions counselors to feel what I felt, without using a word like ‘ethereal’?
Moumentour reminded me to just breathe, to enjoy, to scream along to Ignorance and put a light up to Save Rock and Roll. It is okay to not think for once, it is okay to watch the sunset and the stars and not use it as a moment to shame your productivity of the day. There is life to be lived in the present.
I’ve been to many concerts this year, around 30 the last time I tallied, the first year in many years that I’ve been to so many shows. But much has changed, and my experience is much less romantic as I’ve grown older. If the only option is standing in the pit, I roll up 30 minutes before the show starts to stay in the back, or I’d rather not go at all (I hate you Terminal 5!!!!). The shows blur together sometimes. A lot of the experience can be lost in thinking—which moments to record, what to post, how long the setlist is, how much space I’m taking up, crowd dynamics with the musician, comparisons to other shows I’ve been to. I also wear earplugs now!
But also, there are those other moments, the ones past me was trying to encapsulate in that essay: the visceral scream let out when the first notes of your favorite song start playing, the vulnerability of crying to a song when no one else is, or the connectedness of crying to a song when everyone else is too. Singing along until your voice is gone. Posing when the artist is taking a photo with the crowd, even if you’re in the nosebleeds and they can’t possibly see you.
Live music is a reminder that this memory can only ever exist in that moment, so might as well be fully present in it. When else will you be 17 and have the chance to scream-sing along to, “Don’t go crying to your mama / ‘Cause you’re on your own in the real world”?
Some recs:
After Laughter (2017) by Paramore
This album has aged soooo well.
This was my favorite Paramore song as a teen lol
“What a Catch, Donnie” by Fall Out Boy
Not even on the Moumentour setlist, but my favorite Fall Out Boy song as a teen lol
Thank you for reading! Stay tuned for the next two posts in the following weeks continuing this topic about live music, one about nostalgia and one about fandom culture (lol).
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