Live Review: Fall Out Boy @ the Fillmore AuditoriumBy | April 16th, 2009 | No Comments »
Fall Out Boy singer-guitarist Patrick Stump, in a wig and suit, let loose his soulful voice at the Fillmore on Tuesday. Photos by Joe McCabe.
Disclaimer to hardcore Fall Out Boy fans: I mistakenly set my notebook down on the ledge of the VIP section during “Dance, Dance” so I myself could dance, and some Chad spilled his beer all over it, melting my set list into a garbled mess of ink and paper. Long story short, if I didn’t accurately capture every song FOB played on Tuesday night at the Fillmore, I apologize up front.
And now a note to FOB: don’t dress up like old guys in suits when opening your show, because it just makes you look like the old guys you really are. It’s like why I will never wear a blazer; my age is immediately revealed. Besides, this is why I’ve always liked Fall Out Boy. They are terminal teenagers like me, hiding in our hoodies and straightened hair so the kids don’t know we’re really in our late 20s and still enjoy their brand of thoughtful, emo-ful pop music.
This show wasn’t the best FOB performance I’ve seen, but they played all the hits, from “Sugar, We’re Goin’ Down” to “Where is Your Boy Tonight,” vocalist/guitarist Patrick Stump sounding better than ever. Now that Stump’s let his guard down and unleashed the soul singer hidden inside his puffy body, bassist/pretty man Pete Wentz’ lyrics are getting some much-deserved justice, and it was refreshing to see and hear the change.
After the pseudo-recession themed opening (which found a suited FOB escorted on stage by fake a SWAT team,) they changed into their usual jeans and Dunks garb and the real show began. Wentz did one of his public service-like announcements on America’s obsession with paparazzi culture and blatant ignorance toward real problems in the world, but sadly, the three costume changes put a damper on his cause.
Regardless, Wentz was his usual peachy self, leaping will fleeting joy through “Chicago Is So Two Years Ago” and “I Don’t Care,” guitarist Joe Trohman holding down the screams on the opposite side of the stage with his heavy hair-flinging. An encore brought us “Thnks fr th Mmrs,” “Dance, Dance,” and “Saturday,” Fall Out Boy looking as content as the audience was at their hit-heavy set list.
I should mention that openers Cobra Starship were exceedingly awesome, a surprise considering their records portray them as more silly than serious. But CB are obviously a band who gets their own joke (much like our own 3OH!3). This ability to secretly laugh at themselves pumped extra life into the drippy beat driven “Kiss My Sass” and the best soundtrack song of the last ten years, “Snakes on a Plane (Bring It).”
Metro Station, a personal favorite of mine, was even worse than their last Denver performance at the Gothic in November. Sounding like a condescending Barney the Dinosaur, the gangly Trace Cyrus begged his uninterested audience to participate as he barely made it through “Seventeen Forever” and “Shake It.” Someone should tell the kid that guitars aren’t accessories; wearing a Fender like a man-purse just makes you look stupid. But not as stupid as I’ll look when I wear my newly purchased Metro Station shirt out to a bar this weekend.
For the sake of semi-accuracy, according to my 14-year-old sister Zoë, some of the newer songs FOB played were “She’s My Winona,” “America’s Sweethearts,” “Disloyal Order of the Water Buffalo” and “(Coffee’s for Closers.)” If this is in anyway inaccurate, you can take it up with her. And she will most likely tell you to “OMG shut up” and “get a life!” Or at least that’s what she tells me when ever I say something deemed stupid or uncool.
Bree Davies plays bass in Night of Joy, writes about her obsessions with Iggy Pop and Lil’ Wayne in her blog and repeatedly fakes her own death at Breedavies.com. She is also a self-proclaimed Twitter addict.
Joe McCabe is a Denver photographer and a regular contributor to Reverb.