The Front Bottoms show creates a space for revival, reawakening, and singing away post-pandemic blues

Pan in on the moon, a waxing gibbous with the New York City skyline dipping beneath it, Brooklyn Bridge shining. My focus shifts quickly away from the large screens donned on either side of Pier 17’s stage and instead down to the band. A deep breath in and a deep breath out - thus starts night two of The Front Bottom’s cross country tour. 

Launching immediately into the pounding rhythm of drums, enveloping sound of being home, and the endearing voice of Brian Sella who grounds me right where I am, a thought creeps through my mind.

About a year before, I’m immediately reminded in a strange flashback, I was sitting on top of my friend’s tiny Honda, listening to the same band in Philadelphia. On this night, though, Philadelphia felt far further than a mere 100 miles away and the difference in the energy could not be more striking. Last year, I had made a drive-in show enough. For what and when it was, it was enough. I had soaked in every ounce of concert energy I could and had an amazing time, but it would never compare or be the same as the type of musical intimacy that 2020 had left me craving.

via Ali Fitzgerald, @alfitzpics

Now, though, being back surrounded by like-minded sad-emo-The-Front-Bottoms loving “kids” and feeling their presence rather than just seeing it, I almost burst into tears.

Even more shocking, this time seeing The Front Bottoms didn’t feel the same as any of the countless times before. Somehow, there was a distinct before and after (not that we’re even done yet) pandemic feeling. I found myself wondering: is this what they talk about as “the new normal”? If so, maybe it isn't so bad.

via Ali Fitzgerald, @alfitzpics

The band didn’t feel lackadaisical or juvenile in some of the fun ways I’d seen before on stage. Instead, they were more sure of themselves. I hesitate to draw this imagery around maturity because I’ve always seen The Front Bottoms as a serious band, but their playful imagery in lyrics mixed with enticing and (to put it simply) fun stage presence was different than the band that stood before me in New York City. An element of confidence was imbued in them.

What I felt in those “before” times was the feeling of laughing off my problems and forgetting. What I felt staring at a sea of cars mid-pandemic was a sense of grieving all that had been taken away from us: loved ones, life milestones, and even simple things like the joy of concerts. Now, The Front Bottoms was giving me a new feeling of perspective and sureness in the future.

Showcased greatly was The Front Bottoms’ newer music, which was underscored by fan favorites and oldies alike that set to highlight the ever-evolving story that the band has to tell. It was hearing these songs like “Plastic Flowers” and “Twin Sized Mattress” (that no longer seemed to serve me where I am in life, but once meant everything) which interested me the most.

Typically when a band’s old music is played, the energy piques at a show with the long-time fans giving everything they had. However, the energy didn’t do this at The Front Bottoms because it never once faltered from its starting point. Every fan there was so deeply connected to this band that from the moment they took the stage, new song or old, they were there to sing their hearts out.

Differing from other pop-punk shows, the role of this show wasn’t to get rowdy, but it truly was about connection. For many in the crowd, this was their first show back with their people, with their scene. It was a different sort of energy, a good type of energy, that is almost unexplainable with words.

What The Front Bottoms has never failed to do is make me feel something unique and fleeting at every one of their live shows. Their music is able to capture small moments in life that are running threads in all of our stories. When they’re live, you don’t feel quite so alone anymore.

via Ali Fitzgerald, @alfitzpics

And I could tell you about the pure talent that radiates from each of the individual members as musicians, but it wouldn’t be nearly as impactful as it should be. It’s true, each member of the band fuses themselves together so well and takes ownership over their part effortlessly. But music is about what it makes you feel and that night on Pier 17 was a surreal feeling soundtracked with some of the best music in the scene. 

Pan out on a sea of people experiencing life from a new perspective, watching a band that has grown as they have. Watch as we all learn how to be again.