Jordian Castle

This past Saturday, Brand New played to approximately 18,000 fans at Nassau Coliseum on Long Island. The sold-out hometown show had been hugely anticipated this fall, after the September 22nd release of their fourth album, Daisy. I’ve been a fan since high school, during a time when I was as young, vulgar, and wronged as anyone else that age. While that may be the majority of Brand New’s fan base, the night’s audience was varied, ranging from teenyboppers with their parents to twenty-somethings and older. The four supporting bands – Kevin Devine, Manchester Orchestra, Thrice, and Glassjaw – may have had something to do with the night’s mix.

My friends and I parked at the Coliseum after six, missing Kevin Devine’s opening stint entirely (but as I’m told, it was a good one). In my experience, returning to Long Island for any length of time means: nearly running over some girl you went to high school with, watching your friend chug all of her beers in the car because she can’t take them with her, and freezing in your anti-seasonal clothes for the sake of looking good. And after that, we moved inside to the distinct sounds of Manchester Orchestra. I didn’t see much, considering the line for the bathroom required most of my attention, but the echo was unmistakable. And even if hand dryers marred my singing along, it was a good start to what would end up being a really great night.

Brand New

We found our seats in the dark, just as Thrice was beginning. We were two sections from the top, dead center, in an ideal place to see everything from. People were smoking in their seats, swaying with lighters in hand, and doing some sort of wave that is really only socially acceptable at sporting events with painted faces. It was corny in a uniquely ageless, embarrassingly nice way. With the exception of “The Artist in the Ambulance,” Thrice was playing for their fans and their fans alone. Even as a non-fan, their performance was fun and authentic, the way it sounds coming from my headphones. I felt the same way about Glassjaw, though their brand of scream-singing has never particularly moved me. The couple next to us was captivated; mouthing every word to lyrics I couldn’t make out for the life of me. But their feelings were tangible, an irrefutable reaction that says that a fan is a fan, and that labels have no place in a live arena.

Brand New emerged around 9:15, opening with “Welcome to Bangkok,” an instrumental track off The Devil and God are Raging Inside Me. They then leaped into “Sink,” a very different track from Daisy.  Their sound, best categorized as too-much-too-fast-all-the-time, seemed to overtake the Coliseum’s sound system altogether. The band played 18 songs, rarely pausing, except to thank Long Island for getting them started nearly a decade ago. Jesse Lacey, the man-boy poster child for sad/angry alternative rock, was delightfully understated as he took the microphone to speak. His singing was something else, driven by loud, piercing vocals that I’d only ever heard in cars and through speakers and rarely (if ever) on the radio.

Bands like Brand New, Taking Back Sunday, and Bright Eyes were all huge in high school for me, mainly because they sing about those larger than life, alone-together experiences that we as teenagers feel and know nothing about. I find that it’s crucial to look back sometimes in order to go forward. Listening to Brand New, as we both evolve, is a lot like that for my friends and me.

 A lot of what was played came from Daisy, so if you weren’t a fan of their latest album or if you just didn’t know it, their setlist was a mixed bag. Still, they did play some classics: “I Believe You, But My Tommy Gun Don’t,” “Seventy Times 7,” “Jesus Christ,” “The Archers Bows Have Broken,” etc. While their latest album seems to have older fans underwhelmed, I’ve been reconsidering. I think Daisy is a smarter, more mature take on an earlier theme. Their lyrics are less angst-driven. They’re cleverer, though their new tone does change the band’s learned nature. Jesse and the boys have grown up; their fans are forced to either ignore or embrace that growth spurt.

 The band pulls no punches – when they walked off after their set, they made no move to come back on. So I bought my pink five-dollar tie-dyed tour shirt from some guy in the parking lot, while we sat in traffic waiting for an exit with a million other fans – all drunk on expensive near-beer, coming down from a major high, and anxious to go home and blog about the other four times they’ve seen Brand New live. We are an entire population that never really grows up, but just gets older with every album. But that is music, this is fandom, and perhaps that’s exactly what the band is playing for.