On displacement (Part Three)

My Chemical Romance

Holy shit.

I’ve been obsessed with My Chemical Romance since I was 15. I heard Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge while riding in a friend’s car down Route 70 towards Whiting, where streetlights can be few and far between and it was summer so we had the windows down. I never felt more alive, more in touch with who I really was (which is saying something for being 15). I immediately bought that album and anything else I could get my hands on.

I was Helena for Halloween. Thankfully, no photographic evidence exists.

For my high school creative writing class, we had to write a song in response to a song. I picked “Helena.”

This man. I can’t catch my breath.

And I was madly, hopelessly, desperately in love with Gerard Way. This obsession worsened in college once they released The Black Parade and the first issue of The Umbrella Academy came out. For my 18th birthday, my friend Maeve gifted me with a meet-and-greet ticket at the signing for the comic book.

I died. As soon as I walked away from the table, my legs turned to jelly and I almost fell to my knees.

I saw them at Warped Tour, Bamboozle, Madison Square Garden, Terminal 5, and the Tweeter Center (I know it’s not called that now, but it’s hard to keep up. And just goes to show you how old I am). They’re my favorite band of all time. Danger Days wasn’t my favorite album, but I had a deluxe edition all the same and lost my shit during the concert just the same.

When I heard they broke up, I was driving from Virginia to Florida. I pulled over and sobbed.

Over a decade later, they’re back together and tickets are a fortune and nearly impossible to get. And then the pandemic hit. And then I was in Ireland. It seemed like I’d never see them.

Tell me this isn’t the greatest shirt ever and I’ll call you a liar.

But Melanie and Brian bought me a ticket to their show at UBS Arena in New York, picked me up from Newark Airport, booked a hotel nearby, and drove to the arena. We bought the best merchandise ever and slammed some beers while waiting for the doors to open. Once we were inside …

It was fucking phenomenal. They started with their new song, “The Foundations of Decay,” and I howled along with a kind of desperation I haven’t known since I was a teenager. I thought I was going to cry.

They went right into “Na Na Na,” and even though it’s from my least favorite album, I went nuts. I turned and punched Melanie in the arm out of excitement and then danced enthusiastically in the aisle. Next was “Boy Division.” Are you kidding me? That’s only one of their greatest songs ever. The opening lines are perfect: “If all my enemies threw a party, would you light the candles?” I mean, it was just hit after hit after hit.

Thank You for the VenomTeenagersGive ‘Em Hell, KidThis Is the Best Day EverDESTROYAWelcome to the Black ParadeBurn BrightI’m Not Okay (which Gerard introduced as the great song ever made. He’s not wrong.)MamaOur Lady of SorrowsThe Ghost of YouFamous Last WordsSleepCancerBury Me in BlackHelena

They rocked so hard, I tried to claw my own flesh off. I couldn’t breathe. Gerard sounded better than he ever has and Ray was just fucking shredding the guitar. I died and was reborn and died again. It was perfect–the perfect show.

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