 | | My Chemical Romance (pic: Karen McBride) |
Out are long-haired teens thrashing around, in are 13 year old girls in tutus and bunny ears. And eight year olds with their parents. A long way from their days as underground favourites, handpicked from the toilet circuit by Thursday鈥檚 Geoff Rickley, My Chemical Romance are officially the new Avril Lavigne. Before the levels of screaming were too unbearable, Every Time I Die took to the stage to a warm reception. An odd choice of support, their aggro-hardcore contrasted heavily with the headliners sugar-coated pop-core, the band ripped up the stage with huge energy.
 | | My Chemical Romance (pic: Karen McBride) |
Disappointingly, there was little movement in the crowd, save for a few fans, and only the appearance of MCR鈥檚 Gerard Way for Kill The Music gave the majority a sudden burst of interest. It was the classic Ebolorama that really marked the high point of their set, though, with singer Keith Buckley shredding his vocal chords as his band mates orchestrated a chaotic rock thrash meltdown. Brilliant. Suddenly the lights are cut, and the screaming starts. The Smiths comes over the PA, a fitting song for the venue, and MCR enter the stage, bathed in a red light. After a brief intro, the band exploded into Thank You For The Venom, and the Apollo turned into a whirlwind of preteen joy and rapture.
 | | My Chemical Romance (pic: Karen McBride) |
Yet for all the intensity and proficiency, MCR are simply let down by their front man. His live vocals don鈥檛 live up to the record and he often lets the crowd sing the more complicated parts of songs. Way seems more concerned with preaching, and partaking in asinine call and return interludes with his adoring throng, than delivering a good performance. Still, there were outings for all the songs you could hope to hear from both albums, and there was even a new tune in the encore, which, oddly enough, sounded strikingly similar to Wham鈥檚 classic Last Christmas. But in reality, poor vocals, often ridiculous audience banter and an unremarkable catalogue of songs made for a night that will be loved by the fans, and quickly forgotten by anyone else. |
