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Walking into Margaret Court Arena on that warm Friday night was something special, making my way to the photo pit and meeting up with friends also shooting for the night was something surreal, this wasn't just any concert, the night was setting up for one of the bands that has followed me through my younger years and even to this day, i was nervous but also in disbelief that i was getting a front row seat to it all
The Home Team Setting the Pace
The Home Team jumps onstage and it is chaos immediately. Brag hits and everyone stops mid-conversation, eyes snapping to the stage. Brian Butcher is grinning like he knows exactly how loud the crowd can get and pushes every word of the song straight into it. The guitars cut sharp, drums pounding like someone is trying to break the floor.
By the time Slow Bloom rolls around, bits of the pit are moving, not full mosh, but kids jumping, spilling drinks, one guy screaming lyrics completely wrong and nobody caring. The lights strobe white and then red, and suddenly even the people at the back are leaning forward, shouting along. By the last song, sweaty and grinning, The Home Team is not an opener anymore. They are running the arena. Someone yells Encore and it feels like they actually could.
Jack’s Mannequin A Reunion with Memory
Andrew McMahon eases onto the stage, piano first, walking like he is just coming from the pub. The Mixed Tape starts and suddenly everyone remembers why they fell in love with this band. Some people are crying quietly, others hugging, some screaming along. McMahon cracks jokes mid-song, tells tiny stories about touring Australia years ago, and people laugh, some groan, like they are in on it with him.
Bruised turns the arena into a sea of phone lights, and Dark Blue hits and the energy is insane. People jump, bump into each other, some spilling drinks, some stepping on toes. McMahon climbs on the piano for La La Lie, arms flailing slightly, grinning like a kid who just got caught doing something stupid but amazing. You can hear a few voices off-key, some screaming too loud, and it is perfect because it is messy and real.
Mayday Parade Twenty Years Still Unstoppable
Mayday Parade hits the stage and the screaming is unbelievable. Sanders is barefoot, hair plastered, mic shoved into the crowd, letting them scream the opening line back at him. And they do, everyone. Drinks fly. Someone’s glowstick falls into a pit. A kid yells I love this band and everyone echoes it. Chaos but in a good way.
They rip through Three Cheers for Five Years, Jersey, and Black Cat. You notice people mouthing words like they have rehearsed them in front of their bedroom mirrors for two decades because lets be honest? They probably have. Someone near me is crying quietly, others high-fiving strangers mid-chorus. Then something that I will never forget in my life happens: Miserable at Best comes on and Sanders steps back. The lights dim and the arena is COVERED in a sea of phone lights, every floor spot, every seat lit up by phones, this song is Mayday Parade’s but after 20 years it's also the crowds, Sanders singing parts of the song and the entire arena echoing the rest myself included, it was something bittersweet and magical one of those moments that even when covering an event, you remember that you too are a lifelong fan of this band
Anywhere But Here and Stay hit like a storm, bouncing the whole floor. And then Jamie All Over. Confetti, chaos, spilled beer, someone on another’s shoulders . Sanders stands center stage, grinning, letting it all wash over him. Twenty years in, and he still makes you feel like it is your first time hearing them.
Final Thoughts
Three bands. Three different vibes. One insane night. The Home Team came swinging. Jack’s Mannequin reminded everyone why these songs stick for decades. Mayday Parade proved that twenty years does not dull energy or connection. It sharpens it.
Walking out, sticky shoes, confetti in hair, ears ringing, heart pounding, it does not feel like nostalgia. It feels alive, messy, loud, emotional, exactly the way it should.
