A Love Letter to My Chemical Romance
September 5, 2022. The best night ever.
In seventh grade I met two people, Jay and Angel, who remain dear friends of mine to this day. Early on in our friendship they introduced me to some band from New Jersey called My Chemical Romance. Their love of the band was akin to a personality trait.
I was only vaguely aware of MCR—I knew about “Welcome to the Black Parade” and “Teenagers”—but I quickly fell in love with the rest of their discography. We would soon spend countless lunches and recesses discussing the sounds that Gerard, Frank, Mikey, and Ray had created, freaking out over how good “Helena” was, and reciting the lyrics to “Thank You For the Venom”. I remember greeting Angel for weeks on end with the phrase “Hello, angel, tell me, wherrrrre arrrrre youuuuu?” which was a line from a deep cut we all loved called “Skylines and Turnstiles” off of their first album. Back in 2019 I wrote a piece for Memoir Mixtapes about “The Ghost of You,” a Cure-esque masterpiece from MCR’s sophomore record. On occasion, after we finished our homework - which we usually did while listening to MCR - we’d watch live DVDs of their performances. (On YouTube. Because DVDs are for losers.) Stuff like The Black Parade is Dead!, ¡Venganza!, and their 2011 headline performance at Reading and Leeds Festival in England are the ones that stick out to me most. Also a documentary of their first few years as a band called Life on the Murder Scene, which we love to bits.
March 22, the day back in 2013 when MCR announced their breakup, was a particularly reverent anniversary for us emos. We would listen to all their albums chronologically. Angel ran an MCR fan account back then and would post a gazillion things. I’m sure there’s a lot more from that time of our lives that I’ve forgotten and which I’m sure Jay and Angel will be eager to remind me of once they read this.
Suffice to say that our love for the band ran and continues to run deep. I’m pretty sure the first song Angel learned on guitar was “The Light Behind Your Eyes,” an MCR song. (And how did Angel get good at guitar? By learning how to play MCR songs. Ray Toro is a baaaaaaad man.) We even started a band, along with a few other friends, that played many a bad MCR cover. As awful as we were, the sound that would come out of us every time we did a take of “Dead!” was still so loud and all-consuming and awesome. When I think about the power of music, that memory immediately springs to mind.
When the three of us (or the Emo Trinity, as we liked to refer to ourselves) weren’t thinking about MCR, we paid attention - in fact, we still do! - to the musical projects that the members of MCR had turned to in the wake of the breakup. Frank Iero’s especially. We would also turn to unaffiliated bands on occasion. Angel discovered Waterparks and Sleeping with Sirens. Jay counts Pierce the Veil and Bring the Horizon as two of his favourites. And as for myself, I…I like U2. (They always make fun of me for that.)
Something always drew us back to My Chem, though. I think I speak on all three of us when I say that there’s always been a magic, a nostalgic reverence conjured every time we sent Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge spiralling through the wires of our earbuds. We weren’t the only ones. Millions of teenagers like us were out there, kids whose lives were saved (and whose bank accounts were pretty much owned) by MCR. Despite the messages the media and even the band members themselves would send, there was always a part of us that hoped, wished, prayed for them to one day reunite.
Everything changed on Halloween 2019. We were all in grade 11, which feels like a lifetime ago. My friends and I were being goofs during lunchtime in our silly little costumes. Jay and Angel dressed up as e-girls or e-boys or e-people or whatever. I remember vaguely that the topic of MCR came up but I couldn’t tell you what was said. School ended that day around 2. I got home around 3 and saw that “My Chemical Romance” was the number one trending topic on Twitter. 14,000 people were talking about them or something. I didn’t really get why that was happening the first time I scrolled through, so I texted Jay and Angel. “MCR IS TRENDING. I AM VERY CONFUSED,” I said. They soon responded with a gazillion keysmashes. It turns out that MCR were reuniting for what appeared to be a one-off show at a theatre in Los Angeles on December 20. Merry Christmas, emos!
We were obviously flipping out for weeks. We gossiped about what possibilities were ahead for the band now that they were back together. More reunion shows? New music? A full-on reunion tour? Would they come to Toronto? What deep cuts were they going to play? Would we perish if they did “Demolition Lovers”? (The answer was unequivocally yes.) The day of the show came and it was a great friggin day. It happened to fall on the last day of classes before winter break - the best Christmas gift ever. It was all the three of us talked about that day. Tickets for the night had sold out within minutes of them going on sale. A band called Thursday opened for them, and they are a pretty legendary band in their own right (especially within post-hardcore circles). Someone live-streamed it on Instagram and I watched their whole set. I had never been more excited to hear “Understanding in a Car Crash” in my life. Before MCR came on my mom sent me to bed because it was super late and I missed the entirety of their set. Jay and Angel managed to watch the whole thing through a shaky Instagram livestream. Luckily someone recorded the entire thing with a camera that wasn’t the quality of a potato. Here it is for your viewing pleasure.
Though I’m watching this back for the first time in a while, the energy is still palpable. The beginning of this show is iconic. How all four of their eras blend into one. The “Romance” guitar! The “Look Alive Sunshine” intro! The strings from “The Light Behind Your Eyes”! The haunting guitar from “Interlude”! The beeps from “The End.” that you hear at the start of The Black Parade! The voices from the end of “Vampires Will Never Hurt You”! The ending of “Goodnite, Dr. Death”! And, of course, the speech from the start of the “I’m Not Okay” video. Watching the giant curtain come down to the opening thumps of that song still gives me chills. There is so much raw, unbridled joy in that room, and especially on stage. And the fact that it even happened is incredible in its own right.
If that was all we got from MCR, I’d be over the moon. But there’s more to the story.
Soon after the announcement of the reunion show, MCR announced dates in Australia and New Zealand and Japan. In the new year, they announced a gig at a stadium in Milton Keynes, England, which soon become two gigs, which soon became three. A smattering of dates in Europe followed. And then, on January 29, 2020, they released a 13-minute video (so MCR of them) announcing a tour of North America! Two days later, I managed to convince my dad - because it was a school day, and also because I don’t trust myself with money - to wake up early, sit in that anxiety-inducing, thousands-strong Ticketmaster queue, and purchase tickets for the Toronto date, initially set for September 14. Tickets went on sale around the time we got a lunch break at school. As soon as the bell rang Jay and Angel huddled around my phone, lunches in hand, watching me text my dad furiously for updates. And then, at 12:14pm, Eastern Standard Time: “I beat the robots!!! You’re welcome.”
You all know what happened next. COVID! Within a few months our show got pushed back to September 9, 2021. We were devastated. A year later, the show got pushed back again, to September 5, 2022. Or a week ago today, somehow. And it was bar none the greatest night of my eighteen point nine nine eight years of life.
I guess I’ll give you a play-by-play of the night just because. We took the train together to Union Station. Union Station is cool and full of people who have places to be. We all got overpriced food. The two slices of pepperoni Pizza Pizza I had were delicious but I couldn’t tell if that was because I was hungry or because it was actually delicious. Likely a mix of both. I bought a shirt at a kiosk outside. $50. Could’ve been worse. I wanted one with tour dates on the back, which left me with only two options - a shirt with a skull head on it, and another sporting the cover of Three Cheers. I chose the latter because I’m a wuss. Then we waited for a solid half hour in line to get into the arena. Angel and Jay wrote MCR TORONTO NIGHT 2 on their arms in Sharpie. They scanned our tickets and off we went. We passed by a stand that was selling popcorn and cotton candy. Sixteen bucks or something in total but who cares, YOLO. We eventually found our seats (pictured above), which turned out to be pretty good even though we were in the 300s. I put my sunglasses on (strobe lights are so annoying) and my earplugs in (loud noises are so annoying). The two openers, Meg Myers and Waterparks, did a bunch of songs. I was unfamiliar with Meg but she was good. I’m also not the biggest Waterparks fan but I did yell along to a few of their songs. And then, around 9:30, they emerged. Our heroes. Our favourite group of 40-year old men. They weren’t figments of our imagination! They weren’t holograms! They were real! They were in front of us! And they proceeded to play nothing but THE BEST GODDAMNED SETLIST OF ALL TIME.
We had been following their reunion tour closely so we knew of a few songs they were definitely going to play, but the rest was up in the air since they change it up every night. We got so many surprises that we weren’t expecting. They opened the way they do at every show, with their first new song in ages that I told you about a while back. Then the lead single off their last album. Then a song from their first album which they don’r play too often. Then a song from Revenge which we were not ready for AT ALL. And from that point on it was just banger after banger after banger. A very good b-side called “Bury Me In Black.” The setlist staples like “I’m Not Okay” and “DESTROYA.” Sick stuff from their series of Conventional Weapons EPs, like “Boy Division” and “Surrender the Night.” And we got five songs from Three Cheers, which we were thrilled about, because they don’t play those songs all the time. It was so balanced and yet so unbalanced, always keeping us on our toes and also giving us many opportunities to tell guitar solo master Ray Toro that we loved him. Also, lead singer Gerard Way was dressed as a cat. An action cat, if you will.
And then there was the encore. Only two songs, but just so perfect. All day long, all week long, we had been praying - manifesting, really - that MCR play “Vampires Will Never Hurt You,” the lead single off their first record, at our show. Over text: “They have to play ‘Vampires’.” On the train to Union: “They have to play ‘Vampires’.” It became a mantra. “‘Vampires,’ ‘Vampires’.” They had only played it a few times up until that night. Maybe it’s too special for them to be performing at every show. It gives you a snapshot of their humble New Jersey beginnings, before the hullabaloo that signing to a major label brought them, long before they were headlining festivals and even longer before their breakup. Like everything else on I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love, it’s scrappy and unpolished and loud and yet so powerful. Earlier this year, Dan Ozzi (a writer I love) talked to Sarah Lewitinn (a great writer in her own right) who was there during the early days of MCR. She got to hear a demo of “Vampires” and knew instantly that the band was going to become huge. That people were going to connect deeply with this stuff. And the three of us sure did.
I didn’t take many videos of the show, but I have a video of the band coming out for the encore. Gerard said, “Alright, Toronto, we’ve got 15 more minutes,” in his dapper New Jersey accent, and in response all three of us started screaming, “PLEASE PLAY VAMPIRES!” And then the most amazing thing happened. Their drummer started doing that iconic drum thing. And it took a second to register, but then we just went crazy. I screamed like a nutcase during “THEY PUT THE SPIKE IN MY HEARRRRRRRRT!!!!” I’m not as good as Gerard, obviously, but I tried to hold my own.
And then let me tell you about the other song they played, my favourite MCR song of all time. I mean, that or “The Ghost of You”. It’s a song they’ve played at virtually every one of their shows since they released it back when I was a baby, usually acting as a setlist closer. It’s the first thing you hear on Three Cheers. It’s about the death of Gerard’s grandmother and contains some of the most heartbreakingly emo lyrics he’s ever written (and he’s written a loooot of those, like, four albums worth of those). Not really sure what else I can say about it other than the fact that it’s freaking “Helena.” Or, as it’s sometimes listed, “Helena (So Long and Goodnight)”. Good lord, I’m already getting emotional writing this.
So Gerard started doing this call-and-response thing he usually does at the start of the song, and Angel nudges me and says, “it’s Helena.” And my heart just SANK. I’ve never been more sad to hear a song live in my life. I had been warning Jay and Angel as a joke that I was probably going to cry when they played it. Again: as a joke. Because they both knew how much that song meant to me. And then, about about a minute later, the funniest thing happened: the band kicked into high gear, and then everyone started singing “What’s the worst thing I can saaaaaayyy?” and I just started sobbing. Or maybe it started even sooner than that. All I know is that by the second verse I could no longer sing along because my lungs were hot and desperate for air. My nose plugged, my cheeks drenched in saltwater. Angel saw me crying late in the song and hugged me for a brief second. They told me afterward that they knew I was going to cry at least once that night. For all the writing I’ve done in my life, some people just know me better than I do.
I had never cried at a concert before. Mind you, I haven’t been to many concerts. I’d love to go to more but they’re just so expensive, and on top of that they’re often too overstimulating for my silly little brain. Part of it was the stress and the sounds and the sights getting to me. Part of it was seeing My Chemical Freaking Romance live. But hearing that song live, one that convinced me to keep myself together for another day, made me forget how to keep myself together.
I’m sending this post out the day before my 19th birthday. Which feels weird to type out. It won't sink in for some time. (Some people say you stop being a teenager after you turn 19. Or at least that’s how it used to be. I think that’s BS, but whatever.) I want to hold onto my adolescence for as long as I can, but if it is really, truly over, then what a way for it to end - finally getting to see live the band that at least in part defined my adolescence. My coming-of-age started, essentially, with My Chem, and it ended with My Chem. Which is not what I envisioned playing out, not in a million years, but it happened, somehow, and it was glorious.
The last few days or so since the show have been rough for me. The last month for sure, which is most of the reason why I haven’t been writing, but I’ve especially had a rough go of it this week when it comes to my mental health. This brand new chapter in my life that is university began a few days ago. Life’s carried on, returned back to normal. Jay and Angel are back at their respective post-secondary institutions. Angel is knee-deep in biology stuff, I feel like I’ve completely forgotten how to take notes, and Jay basically lives in an animation lab now. We’ve all been very…sad. We grew up with MCR. Our friendship essentially exists because of them. And now that we had seen them, what was left for us to live for?
I woke up the morning after feeling very overdramatic. Emo, if you will. I was like, “What now? Do I just die?” I came home from class later that day, and upon seeing the shirt I had bought hanging in my closet, I wanted to cry. Although I wouldn’t be one to write a paragraph this sad and not throw a stupid joke in, so here it is: the crash from the euphoric high of Monday night hit us the way puberty hit Greyson Chance. Like a truck.
I’m the kind of person who has music blasting day and night, but I just couldn’t do it in the days following the show. It was like it had no meaning anymore. It was just noise. I would put on a Joyce Manor song to try and cheer myself up - if you’ve been following this blog, you know how much I've come to love them over the course of this year - and it didn’t work, somehow. Amongst the three of us, the feeling was universal, which I find quite interesting, actually. (Someone in academia should do a study on the symptoms of post-concert blues.) We’d literally shuffle our playlists and skip everything we heard. Somehow, nothing could live up to hearing “Famous Last Words” in the flesh. Nothing.
The first artist I managed to listen to without wanting to shut them off was Elliott Smith. Because of course. He writes the saddest goddamned songs. Who else could pair so perfectly with a post-concert hangover?
I’m still sad now as I write this, but I’ve begun listening to music again. Mostly depressing stuff. You may be asking, how many My Chemical Romance songs have I put on since that magical Monday night? And the answer is zero. I just haven’t been up to it. I’m not ready yet. I’m sure that eventually I’ll have the mental fortitude to listen to “Helena” and not want to cry. But I don’t think I’m ever going to hear a My Chemical Romance song the same way again. And maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe now, every time I put Three Cheers on, I’ll immediately think back to the best night of my life.