Twenty One Pilots Live Review 2016

Twenty One Pilots LIVE REVIEW | “The Company You Keep” | Amway Center, Orlando, FL | Friday, July 1, 2016

by • July 22, 2016

Foreword: My college professor was infamous for making lewd comments about women. I spent most of my days hoping I wouldn’t be crucified for what I was wearing, what small amount of weight I carried awkwardly on my thighs, or how my hairstyle wasn’t flattering to my face shape. Every evening my gaze met a figure in the mirror I loathed to see. I was sorry. I was sorry for my existence. I was sorry my outward appearance distracted people from the words I poured over for weeks to memorize, and emotions pulled from painful places to play a character written hundreds of years ago whose mannerisms, thoughts, and likenesses I had studied so hard to make my own. Opening night would come and I sauntered onstage with SORRY scrawled across my flat chest. I bowed at curtain with SORRY etched on my imperfect skin, hoping they could see past me and feel what I thought the Bard was trying to say through me. I was a walking, singing, dancing, jazz-handing apology. The irony was in the fact that it was exactly the opposite of what my professor preached; the lesson that stuck with me the most. He would say over spectacles perched on his nose, “Never start a piece with an apology. No. You stand up in front of everyone, as you are, and say, this is who I am, take it or leave it, fuck you.”

Well, pardon me, professor — I’m sorry. I’m sorry to all the people whose music I dismissed because I never gave it a chance. I’m sorry I judged you on a sound I never heard that YOU had heard, and loved. I’m sorry I scoffed at artists whose reputations I had gathered from the internet instead of looking at the way you gathered your head in your hands when you listened to them. I’m sorry I projected my own small mind onto something that made you feel so big and triumphant. I’m sorry I asked over little haughty laughs, how could you possibly like this instead of asking how it made you feel, how it helped you settle down at the end of a long day, how it held you when no one else would. I’m sorry. 


Swinging my right leg over the Orange City transportation bicycle, I lock it up and take my spot in the already vast, winding line in front of the Amway Center. The time reads 8:03am. Doors are at 6:00pm. Time to sit down, try not to burn from the brutal Florida heat, make friends, and catch small amounts of sleep between pizza and porta-potty runs. Let’s do this.

I brought a dozen assorted munchkins from Dunkin Donuts in my quest to bribe people for friendship and as an aid to my own rumbling morning stomach. (That sounds creepy. I suppose it was…I was hungry too; a hungry creep.) It’s well before 10:00am but the spirit in the air is lively (the donuts were a smash, HA!), excited with seeing our favorite duo, Twenty One Pilots. Mere hours from now, the corners of those crinkled smiles will wilt to scowls as we brace ourselves to do whatever it takes to get to the barricade. The day is young and we proceed small talk with caution. I don’t want to elbow a friend in the nose but an acquaintance, well, let’s just say, accidents happen. (If someone elbowed me in the face to get to Tyler Joseph, well, I would wear that blood with pride, too.)

I’m no stranger to posting up for a show as I’ve gone down this path many a time alone before. However, this time I had friends meeting up with me prior to the bum rush of doors opening. I’d hold down the fort until then.

These tickets had been burning a hole in my pocket since October 2015 when I bought them pre-sale on an alarm set weeks in advance. This was an arena tour and my first time seeing an arena show. I’m a frequenter of The Social, Will’s Pub, etc. you know, the small, local watering holes (we caught Twenty One Pilots at The Beacham in 2013 and at House of Blues in 2015). I didn’t have much time to take in the sheer size of the space until I was cozied up against all my new friends. It wasn’t until the boys did a little magic trick and popped up mid-crowd, mid-pit on a small stage that I turned to face the sea of bodies and wanted to throw up from the magnitude of the stadium.

Twenty One Pilots Live Review 2016

Tyler Joseph and Josh Dun have taken themselves from tiny basements to grand stages. It was chilling to witness the art they created grow on such a large scale that could be shared with so many more people. This wasn’t just a tour for their namesake; each song in the setlist was calculated — each visual, each light, each little twitch of Tyler’s finger was planned and yet, unrehearsed. They left room for improv and conversation with us. The frontman stopped mid-set and thanked us for being a part of their journey thus far. Maybe it seemed insincere from the balcony but from where I stood, I could see Tyler’s eyebrows furrow and release into a smile as he seemed confused and grateful all in one instant. He was in denial his art made room for all these people to sprawl their hearts on the floor in such great numbers. In return for our massive presence, the humble boys from Columbus played treasured favorites and threw in some new stuff for us, as well.

“Heathens” was written for the Suicide Squad soundtrack and it is fucking incredible live. Any time Tyler picks up the bass (“Polarize,” “Ride”), it resonates through my bones and rings out for days but this, this was on a whole other level. I often forget the musician is more than just a frantic figure running around stage. When he settles into a spot and starts to pluck any instrument his true artistry shines through. The track was released June 16 and everyone in Amway already knew every word, duh.

I tried to warn you just to stay away
And now they’re outside ready to bust
It looks like you might be one of us.”

The screen spun out green and purple skulls which appeared almost 3-D. It might have been heat exhaustion but it felt as though these skulls came out into the crowd and pushed through my ribs; a haughty ghost. A new song but surely, one I will look forward to at every performance from now on.

If you’re already a TOP fan then you, like me, stand outside in dumb hot temperatures for dumb amounts of time to get as close to the front as possible to hold Tyler as he begins “Holding Onto You” or to be front and center to try not to get crushed by Dunn’s drum solo. This time, they came to the masses all the way in the back. During an interlude of “Guns For Hands” Tyler climbs inside of a giant red cellophane ball and runs across the welcoming hands of the crowd. I didn’t get to cradle the frontman’s foot or support Josh’s drum platform but I gave several enthusiastic, et al spastic, punches as he rolled across my happy hands. It was interactive and exhilarating. Major kudos to the guys for consistently coming up with ways to involve the audience and not just in a kitsch, attention span of a toddler way, but as a genuine effort to let us know we are just as much a part of this as they are. Opener’s Chef Special and Mutemath joined the duo onstage for a nice onslaught of covers including, “My Heart Will Go On,” “Love Yourself,” “Jump Around,” and more.

There were moments I can only describe as magic in the set. Moments which made me feel as though I was my own apparition hovering slightly above myself with the best view of watching myself watch them; mesmerized, grateful, and whole.* They played a good amount of songs from Vessel which was an aforementioned “moment.” “Kitchen Sink” is the epitome of TOP to me as Tyler sat on the platform in the middle of the arena, cross-legged, singing into his lap the words I’ve sang to my own disoriented bones so many times. “DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE. DON’T LEAVE ME ALOOOOOOONE.” I shouted off-key to the person in the distance who didn’t make me feel so distant. It was the perfect kismet of chaos and bliss. Soon came “Addict With A Pen,” “March To Sea,” “Fall Away,” “Pantaloon,” “Johnny Boy” and I was even closer to nirvana; floating up to the ceiling. “Trees,” their signature encore, began with Tyler at a small keyboard center stage and my body could not stop the dam from breaking. Tears came. And came. And came. Sterner stuff I am not made of. I was sobbing uncontrollably, lyrics of the famed track barely audible, spilling from my salt-soaked lips. A bottomless well of gratitude.

You can always tell that Tyler has a small amount of hesitation during performances. It comes through just slightly at certain times in the evening. It’s a hesitation, which I gather, is mostly marked by this one constant question; is sharing my art worth it? A valid inquiry. Art is created during times of great struggle. A struggle between letting your own personal demons win over the seemingly shrinking patches of sunshine inside. Joseph has always been vocal about his rough times with faith, with love, with insecurity. Blurryface was his way of coping with these demons, something he said almost wasn’t written. I have to catch my breath thinking about a world where he might have decided not to share his art, where he might have let those demons win. Amway was filled with souls who needed this art, who created their own art all the same just by singing along. There is never a doubt in my mind after hearing these words at the end of every show that they are riddled with the utmost, irrefutable truth,

We are Twenty One Pilots, and so are you.”

twenty one pilots ERS 2016

*I was almost whole. My friends were not able to find me until after the show. I spent the entire evening moshing with kind strangers but, in those instances when I so desperately wanted to look over to my friends and share a laugh or just an overwhelmed look, they weren’t there. It was my fault. I chose to wait in line without them to be closer to the the stage. I’m kicking myself now. I’ve seen shows alone. I’ve been barricade, sweaty, screaming songs late into the night. But tonight, all I wanted was to look over and see the people I love taking in a moment that would never happen again. I wanted a gentle shoulder nudge during an awesome drum solo; an elated squeeze of the hand when our favorite song came on. I took that away from myself. I learned my lesson. It doesn’t matter if you’re in the nosebleeds ... it’s about the fucking company you keep.


 

Afterword: I started this piece with an apology so, I thought I’d end it with a thank you. Take it away, boys.

“Oh, and we also want to thank all the haters, discriminators, and perpetrators. I’m just kidding. That would be funny though, if we were totally serious about that.” 🙂

Twenty One Pilots Live Review 2016 “The Company You Keep” Sarah Schumaker


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