Bob Dylan, Chappell Roan, Deafheaven, Dijon, Dua Lipa, Felly, Festival International de Jazz de Montréal, The Format, Geese, Haley Heynderickx & Max García Conover, Hot Mulligan, Indigo Girls & Melissa Etheridge, Kendrick Lamar & SZA, My Chemical Romance, Ninajirachi, Nine Inch Nails, Oasis, Spiritbox, The Paradox, Viagra Boys

From all of us here at Atwood Magazine, we wish you a happy and healthy new year!

In 2025, music felt necessary again. It was a year where music showed up when we needed it most – rooted in real moments, with real bodies, in real rooms. Whoever we are, wherever we were, the songs we sang made it all feel survivable – not because life is perfect, but because sharing it, loudly and together, reminded us we weren’t alone.

Atwood’s mission has always been to celebrate great music across genres, scenes, and communities, and this year we kept pushing that further. We made a point to spotlight artists from all over the world and all across the spectrum – from the familiar names in the Top 40 to the incredible creatives thriving in indie and underground circles. That mix is what keeps our work exciting: One day you’re writing about a massive pop talent, the next you’re falling in love with a band you stumbled onto at midnight and can’t shut up about.

And in a year that often felt heavy, live music especially reminded us what it’s good for: Release, connection, catharsis, and the simple, underrated joy of being in a room full of strangers singing the same words like it actually matters.

We’ll always make space for artists using their voices with purpose – uplifting the disenfranchised and underrepresented – while also honoring the timeless stuff music has always held for us: Love, loss, hope, courage, change, and trying to find your way through it all.

As the year comes to a close, our staff took a step back to honor the songs, albums, concerts, and artist discoveries that had the greatest impact on our lives. Without further ado, Atwood Magazine is proud to present our curated list of 2025’s Best Concerts of the Year, in alphabetical order by artist.

From Oasis’ long-awaited reunion and My Chemical Romance’s Long Live the Black Parade, to Geese’s joyful, feral indie rock carnage, Chappell Roan’s euphoric pop fantasia, Dijon’s intimate, star-on-the-rise intensity, and Kendrick Lamar & SZA’s undeniable, transcendent dual power, these are our favorites – the concerts that left us inspired, invigorated, and even more in love with the music than we were beforehand. Please join us in celebrating 2025’s contributions to the music world!

Mitch Mosk, Editor-in-Chief

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Atwood’s 2025 Music of the Year 

The Best Concerts of the Year

Click on the artist’s name to skip right to their entry!

Bob Dylan, Chappell Roan, Deafheaven, Dijon, Dua Lipa, Felly, The Format, Geese, Haley Heynderickx & Max García Conover, Hot Mulligan, Indigo Girls & Melissa Etheridge , Kendrick Lamar & SZA, Many, My Chemical Romance, Ninajirachi, Nine Inch Nails, Oasis, Spiritbox, The Paradox, Viagra Boys

I’ve attended Outlaw Music Festival a couple times now, and it always strikes me a little funny the two very different crowds it draws: on one side there are the Bobheads, many of which could tell you, for example, the exact date and location of his only live performance of “Lily, Rosemary, and the Jack of Hearts.” And on the other, there are the KROQ patriots that are there to shed a tear to “Always on My Mind” and chatter through everything else. That aside, it’s impossible for thinking, feeling hearts to not be moved by a lineup of this caliber. As a carded Bobcat myself, I was there mostly for Dylan and, as I am every time I see him live, surprised and delighted by the new sounds he mines out of old songs. – Anu Sarode

I had the honor of experiencing Chappell Roan on the third of her four-night stint at Forest Hills Stadium, and the energy was instant and overwhelming in the best possible way. The moment she hit the stage, 13,000 people collectively lost their minds, singing along as the pop star and her all-women band ripped through hit after hit inside a pastel, theatrical world that felt less like a concert and more like stepping into some warped pop fantasia – equal parts fairytale, camp, and controlled chaos. Roan is a true pop powerhouse, and she feeds off that devotion effortlessly; the crowd didn’t just adore her, they mirrored her, amplifying every beat, pose, and punchline until the whole place felt alive.

The only real challenge was volume – not from the band, but from the crowd itself. Everyone around me was singing so loudly that it was often hard to hear Roan’s voice in full, turning much of the night into the most joyful, unhinged karaoke session imaginable. (I’ve since joked that I know how The Beatles’ fans felt – given this, I can only imagine what their shows were like.) The exceptions were her ballads, “Coffee” and “California,” where the crowd noise softened just enough for Roan’s voice to cut through clearly, grounding the spectacle in something intimate and emotional. It was a reminder that beneath the glitter and bombast, Chappell Roan’s songwriting carries real weight – ache, longing, and self-reckoning wrapped in pop maximalism.

Even the night – part of her Visions of Damsels & Other Dangerous Things pop-up tour – felt magical. Hearing my favorite Chappell Roan song, “My Kink Is Karma,” brought to life onstage was genuinely breathtaking – a bucket-list moment two years in the making. The highlights stacked up quickly: screaming every word of “Casual,” jumping so hard during “HOT TO GO!” I half-expected the rafters to give way, feeling the emotional gravity of “The Subway,” soaking in the effortless charisma of “Red Wine Supernova,” and riding the fire and fury of “Good Luck, Babe!” before everything exploded into the euphoric, defiant high of “Pink Pony Club.” It was the perfect finale to a night that felt larger than the venue, louder than logic, and unforgettable in the way only a truly communal pop moment can be. That night made clear just how dominant the 27-year-old artist has become in only two short years. Chappell Roan isn’t (and wasn’t) just a fleeting craze; she’s building something people want to belong to – a movement, a community, a cultural force, a Femininomenon. – Mitch Mosk

Deafheaven’s lead singer, George Clarke, posesses a voice that is not natural or of natural causes. It’s screeching, howling, and yet deeply melodic. To a crowd that filled into a packed Paradise Rock Club, marred by poles and pits, Deafheaven thrashed through their new album with a furious pace. There was no room left to breathe in the room, every gasp was swallowed by Clarke’s calling cards. If you found a momentary reprieve, the band stole that peace immediately with relentless solos. Across a dozen songs, fans were graced with 9 of the 12 songs from their newest release, and 3 fan favorites from their earlier two records. I have been to many, many metal concerts. I have never heard a vocalist sound the way George Clarke did over a band playing at such a furious pace. I do not think I ever will again. – Andrew Lamson

I caught Dijon at Terminal 5 just days before his Saturday Night Live debut, and the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. The moment I heard Baby, I knew I had to see this tour – to hear these songs breathe in a room that could still hold them close, before the scale inevitably explodes. Terminal 5 felt like the last possible place where Baby could live this way: intimate, combustible, human. From the jump, the night felt hushed and electric at once, like everyone knew they were witnessing something mid-ascent.

Dijon didn’t take the stage alone – he brought a whole community with him. Watching his band translate his sophomore album’s glitch, grit, glitter, and churn into something warm and bodily was breathtaking; the songs pulsed with organic weight, swelling and receding like breath. His smoky, soulful, impossibly expressive voice cut straight through it all, anchoring the chaos with raw feeling. The room reached another level when Mk.gee joined him onstage, the two facing each other like old friends making music the way they always had – instinctively, privately – while we watched from the outside, quietly stunned. Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon also made a very special surprise appearance – a natural extension of the album’s world, a further widening of the circle.

One unforgettable moment bled into the next as Dijon drew everyone in attendance deeper into his orbit, heat rising with every song. The ecstatic, communal lift of “HIGHER!” felt like the emotional center of the night, a song that doesn’t just play to a room but activates it. Live, it became a shared exhale and an ascent, all of us moving in unison as Dijon’s voice pushed higher and higher, turning devotion into propulsion. It was pure release – joy, urgency, and love collapsing into motion. Around it, the newer Baby tracks thrived in Terminal 5’s massive space: the glimmering propulsion of “Yamaha,” the tender sweetness of “Baby!” and the intimate urgency “Another Baby!,” each one alive with sweat, breath, and immediacy. Dijon’s older songs from Absolutely and beyond landed differently – more reflective, more bruised – with “The Dress” in particular carrying an emotional weight that felt newly earned in the context of everything that’s come since. “Big Mike’s,” performed with Mk.gee in tow, undid me completely – tender, enveloping, and radiating a slow, intoxicating warmth that settled into the room and refused to leave. By the end of the night, it was clear I wasn’t just watching a great show; I was watching an artist give everything he had, right on the edge of something much bigger. Seeing Dijon in that room, at that moment, is something I’ll carry with me – a glimpse of a star at full glow, just before the world catches up. – Mitch Mosk

In 2022, I got to see Dua Lipa perform in the TD Garden in Boston while promoting Future Nostalgia, and then three years later, history repeated itself for lucky me! Only this time, she stitched in each of the 11 songs from her latest album, Radical Optimism, in various forms – sometimes the whole song, sometimes bits and pieces of it – as well as making room for the Barbie soundtrack hit, “Dance the Night,” and a cover of a song by an artist from whichever city she was in at the moment – which, for lucky me in Boston, meant “Bad Girls” by our hometown heroine Donna Summer. All of this material was fabulous, and the showmanship of everyone onstage – the dancers, the band members, and of course Dua herself – genuinely made this a night to remember. – Josh Weiner

I caught musician Felly this summer at one of my hometown venues, a small, packed nightclub on Nantucket called the Chicken Box. Felly released his most recent album, Ambroxyde, this spring, and was touring in support of it. His earlier music swung a lot more hip-hop and rap-heavy, and Ambroxyde detoured pretty heavily from that, with Felly dipping into the world of guitar-based singer-songwriter-style rock and soft-alternative. He did a collaboration with Carlos Santana a few years ago that turned me into a casual fan.

Full disclosure: I interviewed him previously for my town’s newspaper and was able to get on the guestlist for this show. He performed two consecutive nights, deciding to dedicate one evening to the “old-school stuff,” as he referred to it, and the other to the new tracks from Ambroxyde, although he never revealed beforehand which performance was which. I caught him on July 2, where, amid a truly, seriously ravenous, totally locked-in crowd, he performed many of his early hits. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen such a compelling artist-fan relationship expressed live; the crowd was jumping, super-hype, and Felly was giving back all the energy we were giving him. I’m not so much a fan of his early stuff, but I was incredibly moved by the symbiotic relationship I witnessed. I definitely prefer this current Ambroxyde-era Felly, but seeing fans continue to be so enthused by him returning to his roots reminded me why live music is so important and such a wonderfully-unique experience. – Kendall Graham

Starting on the evening of June 25th, on which I saw Wynton Marsalis and his band deliver a masterful set in the glimmering Maison Symphonique of Montreal’s Place des Arts, I consumed the most live music I ever have over the course of a single week. What an extraordinary week it was! From the playful Balkin Paradise Orchestra from Barcelona, to the Philadelphia-based hypemen known as Snacktime, to the souldful Mexican guitarist Natalia Lafourcade, to a memorable Italian Orchestra on the giant Scène TD, to a number of talented youngsters from jazz bands in universities all around the Montreal area, to New Orleans native Trombone Shorty doing his city’s signature genre proud… the festival delivered the goods non-stop, all while living up to the 2nd word in its name decently well. One of my favorite cities in the world produced another stellar heap of spectacular memories that week via its world-renowned jazz festival. – Josh Weiner

I didn’t realize how deep The Format still lived in me until the Beacon Theatre lit up and my whole nervous system snapped back into place. One minute, I’m walking through the Upper West Side with a mild, pleasant sense of 2000s millennial nostalgia; the next, I’m in a full-on spiral – the kind that not-so-quietly takes over your listening life. Over the next two months, Interventions and Lullabies and Dog Problems became constant companions again, reclaiming their place in my daily rotation and eventually landing fourth and fifth on my most-streamed albums of the year (a combined 1,500+ minutes). Alongside them is “Holy Roller” – The Format’s first new song in nearly two decades – a fiery, feverish return that ultimately became my third most-streamed song of the year, its restless, self-aware roar less about looking back than about kicking the door open and charging forward.

And it’s all because of that show – a 90-minute blaze of angsty indie rock glory, where nostalgia stopped being a feeling and became a physical force. 3,000 of us, mostly 30- and 40-somethings packed into velvet seats, all became one voice singing along to songs I hadn’t heard – let alone thought about – in years, only to realize the lyric-bank in my brain still held every line filed away in perfect order. It was electrifying in the most cathartic way – not just loud or fun, but invigorating; the kind of night where you look around mid-chorus and think: oh, right – this band helped raise us.

Every song felt like a shared memory brought to life – “Wait, Wait, Wait” exploded with joy, “Pick Me Up” rang out with rousing resilience, and my personal favorite “Dog Problems” swept through the theatre like a collective, dramatic exhale. When “The First Single (You Know Me)” hit, the air turned raw and self-aware, every lyric a reminder of why this band still means so much to so many. The Format played all the fan favorites, including future favorite “Holy Roller,” which silenced the crowd in an instant (the single was released a week later, on October 6^th). It was one of those rare moments when the energy in the room shifted from celebration to reverence: Thousands standing still, listening to a song they had never heard, before erupting in applause as the final chorus crashed down. You could feel it in your chest – that unmistakable spark that few bands can summon, the sound of something lost being found again. The Format sounded as tight and dynamic as ever, every note crackling with intention and joy. Nate Ruess sang with astonishing precision and awe-inspiring power – his singular, stunning, instantly-recognizable voice soaring, unweathered by time, every word carrying the weight of years and the thrill of renewal.

What made it even more profound is that this wasn’t only a reunion for Nate Ruess and Sam Means (and co.), but a beginning. With The Format’s third album, Boycott Heaven, arriving January 23, 2026 via The Vanity Label, this show didn’t feel like a victory lap so much as a starting gun: A return from one of my teenage self’s favorite bands in a way I truly never expected to witness. A rebirth. The next chapter. And for one majestic night in New York City, it felt like the past and future collapsed into the same singalong – proof that some parts of you don’t disappear; they just wait for the right song to bring them roaring back. This was, without a doubt (and in true The Format fashion), a warm kiss instead of a cold goodbye. – Mitch Mosk

There are very few things I’ll sacrifice my Halloween night for. Of these things are included the debilitating illness of a relative, alien invasion, and seeing Geese live. The Quartyard Halloween night was a veritable tableau, with ghouls and angels buzzing around under string lights waiting for the band to go on. Truthfully, we could have been in a junkyard and it still would’ve been my #1 show of the year. Getting Killed already crushes in headphones, but watching the band play it on stage, full-throated and drenched in style, was something else entirely. Geese is clearly spinning towards even greater heights, and this was a night I am sure I’ll be bragging to my future grandchildren about. – Anu Sarode

This pairing, their writing and their voices, were completely aligned. Their album What of Our Nature had just come out that morning, so it was fresh to the audience as well as Haley and Max. It was intimate, with introductions to most every song and stories of their time writing together on a farm in Spain. The album is responding to our political climate in a way that moved me deeply, and left me thinking about the work that art and music should be playing at this moment. – Hannah Burns

Hot Mulligan’s recent tour pulled together the most exciting billing for fans of emo: Hot Mulligan, Drug Church, Arm’s Length, and Anxious. Every band on the card has already headlined their own personal tours, albeit perhaps in smaller venues. Anxious culled everyone to get closer, embrace the crowd, sing the choruses, and get moving. Arm’s Length demonstrated the future of the movement. Drug Church reminded everyone why we’re still crowd surfing, moshing, and picking each other up to screamed vocals.

Hot Mulligan’s most recent record, the title of the tour, was mean to be played live. There are many songs, such as “And a Big Load” that truly get new energy from a crowd full of people jumping and screaming along. Deeper emotional hits like “Monica Lewinskibi” get a new gut punch with the visuals the band displayed. Somehow, across a career definining setlist, they never once faltered or lost the crowd in the mid-set lull. Pulling across our hearts, and moving our bodies all night, they culminated one of the most memorable tours the pop punk & emo space has seen in years. – Andrew Lamson

Fellas. Is it weird to go to see Melissa Etheridge and the Indigo Girls with your best friend at the Minnesota State Fair? There is a kind of low stakes nature to shows at the Grandstand – because it is a seated venue, you really are able to wander in, and comfortably find your spot any time before the show begins. And, I mean, it helps if you are even slightly familiar with some of the songs from the artists you’ll be seeing – but it is also just a nice time, regardless of how invested you may or may not be. Both artists playing a 90 minute set, and yes! The show was good! And fun! But the reason this was the best concert I attended this calendar year was because of the vibe within the crowd. I think it goes without saying that both acts cater to a primarily queer audience – and cater to an audience of specific age. There was a warmth and a comfort, and a kind of welcoming, radiating from the crowd that was just surprising to feel – and it was sustained through the entire evening. Sometimes you go to a concert and, like, what matters is seeing an artist you adore, or hearing a song that you love. And I mean yes, it was very powerful to hear “Closer to Fine” as the final song of the Indigo Girls’ set, and it was a thrill to hear how Etheridge has made subtle changes to the arranging of songs like “Come to My Window” for a live setting after playing the song for over 30 years. But. It really was the atmosphere at the Grandstand, making you feel like you were, at least for that evening, a part of something much larger and more important. – Kevin Krein

When “All the Stars” came out on the Black Panther soundtrack in 2018, it was clear that Kendrick Lamar and SZA had some undeniable creative chemistry. Jump forward seven years and they managed to demonstrate that much multiple times over on the Grand National Tour. Given that the two of them now have a combined 20+ years’ worth of mainstream success to their names, they were able to pull from their extensive collection of fan favorites without pause over the course of three fantastic hours. Each artist delivered big time while doing their solo sets, and then when they joined the stage for their solid range of collab tracks – ending with their two most recent ones, “Gloria” and the radio monster “Luther” – the joint energy was undeniable. I sure hope these two remain close buddies, both onstage and in the studio. – Josh Weiner

For me, it was the roar of the crowd that gave me heartache to sing. I still remember catching My Chemical Romance’s reunion shows in 2022 and realizing, in real time, that I had finally arrived. I wasn’t an angsty emo kid growing up; I didn’t come of age with this band, and their music wasn’t the soundtrack to my teenage rebellion. Those reunion shows weren’t a nostalgic homecoming for me – but they were a starting line: A full-throttle introduction to a band that, from that point forward, took over my inner world. By the end of 2023, My Chemical Romance were my most-streamed artist, The Black Parade was my most-played album, and “Dead!” had become my all-time favorite song. At 30 years old, I finally became an emo kid.

So when MCR returned this year with ‘Long Live The Black Parade,’ a tour that saw them performing The Black Parade in full – complete with a newly imagined theatrical framework whose authoritarian, fascistic overtones felt chillingly timely – the experience landed with an entirely different kind of weight. From the opening strains of “The End.” to the explosive final moments of “Blood,” the show wasn’t just a victory lap for a classic album; it was a confrontation. A reckoning. A rebirth. The story hit harder now, sharper, darker, and more resonant in a world full of dread.

At its core, The Black Parade has always been a human story – a meditation on mortality, grief, fear, love, and the defiant urge to matter before the end. Framed through the journey of The Patient, the album wrestles with what it means to face death head-on: To reckon with who you were, who you loved, who you hurt, and what you leave behind. That emotional spine is what gives the record its lasting power, allowing new theatrical interpretations to latch on without distorting its essence. Beneath the spectacle, uniforms, and grand gestures, it’s still about standing at the edge of oblivion and choosing, one last time, to feel loudly, honestly, and without apology.

There was no moment that wrecked me quite like hearing “Dead!” up close. Watching Gerard Way, Frank Iero, Ray Toro, Mikey Way, and more tear through that song with manic precision, every line spat with ferocity and glee, felt like standing inside the engine of The Black Parade itself. The band roared and ricocheted with relentless force, the energy so overwhelming it felt supernatural – a kinetic, larger-than-life force. It’s a moment I want permanently etched into memory, replaying on a loop.

If “Dead!” was chaos incarnate, then “Cancer” was its devastating counterweight. I’d always hoped to hear it live – a song that still reduces me to tears – and in the room, it was every bit as affecting as I imagined. Thousands stood nearly motionless, hearts cracked open, as Way delivered it with quiet restraint and unbearable tenderness. Elsewhere, “Mama” drenched the stage in blood-red light, while “Sleep” sent icy shockwaves through the crowd with its glitching dread and suffocating churn.

This night wasn’t about hits – though they generously delivered those too, from “Skylines and Turnstiles” and “The Ghost of You” to “I’m Not Okay (I Promise),” “Na Na Na (Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na),” “It’s Not a Fashion Statement, It’s a F*ing Deathwish,” and “Helena,” plus a wildly unexpected and surprisingly triumphant cover of Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ on a Prayer.” This was about collective catharsis: About experiencing The Black Parade as a living, breathing work that continues to grow in relevance, fury, and emotional power nearly two decades after its release.

Watching My Chemical Romance bring this album to life now – louder, darker, and more urgent than ever – made one thing unmistakably clear: The Black Parade hasn’t aged into legacy. It’s evolved into prophecy – something urgent, timely, and deeply, emphatically human. And standing there, screaming every word alongside thousands of others, I knew in my heart: Long Live the Black Parade. – Mitch Mosk

Ninajirachi played EDC Las Vegas in 2024. To a far more intimate crowd, I managed to luck into Ninajirachi tickets in Middle East Cambridge, a venue that generously fit a few hundred people. Bass growled inside ear drums and chests. Synths and vocals flew high enough everyone forgot we were in a basement. Mixing in every single hit off the sensational I Love My Computer, Nina also ripped through her older catalogue and the rippers from Girl EDM. Seeing a star be born before your eyes is a sight to behold, especially when people half & double your age know every word to non-singles alike. – Andrew Lamson

Objectively speaking, the conditions for this concert were terrible. Mosquitoes everywhere (more than thirty bites in half an hour), airplanes frequently flying over the venue (which was unfortunately close to an airport), no big screens (or rather, only pretty small screens), and an opening DJ set that was not exactly thrilling. Nevertheless, Nine Inch Nails’ concert was the most magnificent and intense of the year. I would do it again, perhaps with fewer mosquitoes, but I would definitely do it again.

Perfect execution of the songs from start to finish, from the iconic “The Perfect Drug” to “Copy of a,” with a cover of David Bowie’s “I’m Afraid of Americans.” After the concert, as if it hadn’t already been good enough, Badalamenti’s “Laura Palmer’s Theme” echoed through the venue. It was the perfect ending, and thinking about it still gives me goosebumps. If you get the chance, trust me. Nine Inch Nails MUST be seen live. – Dimitra Gurduiala

I still don’t quite know how to write about an Oasis reunion show – a thing my best friend and I joked about for years as something we desperately wanted, but never truly believed we’d get. The Gallagher brothers’ reunion lived permanently in that fantasy tier: top five, maybe top two, of the bands I always hoped would get back, but assumed never would. And yet there I was at MetLife Stadium, nearly a year after (metaphorically) selling one of my kidneys to buy the tickets, staring out at 80,000 people as the band walked onstage. When they opened with “Hello,” my disbelief gave way to something louder and more physical – the realization that this was really happening, and that I was about to lose my voice singing every damn word.

What followed was a setlist that felt less like a concert and more like a greatest-hits autobiography of my youth. From the unapologetic swagger of “Supersonic,” “Rock ’n’ Roll Star,” and “Cigarettes & Alcohol,” to the churn of “Roll With It,” the ache of “Cast No Shadow,” and the raw, exposed emotion of “Slide Away,” Oasis moved effortlessly between bravado and vulnerability. Some might say it was pure nostalgia, but standing there, it felt far more alive than memory. “Live Forever” landed with full heart-on-sleeve defiance, a reminder of why these songs mattered so deeply in the first place – not just for their hooks or volume, but for the way they gave listeners – like a young Mitch, for example – permission to feel big things without apology.

By the time the encore arrived – “Don’t Look Back in Anger” (my all-time favorite Oasis song), “Wonderwall,” and “Champagne Supernova,” played back-to-back-to-back – the night tipped fully into the surreal. It became, quite simply, the ultimate karaoke night with a sea of blokes, young and old, all of us come together around Oasis, singing until our voices cracked. No irony. No distance. Just collective release. By now it feels half a world away, but… what a night. – Mitch Mosk

In the middle of the set, Courtney LaPlante chatted with us about the themes of the album: growing up in an isolated island environment (Vancouver Island, where she and husband/guitarist Mike Stringer grew up), trying to stop getting in your own way, deciding if you feel you need to belong somewhere or carve out your own space. Growing up on Nantucket and feeling those same exact feelings has turned Tsunami Sea into an anthemic, highly-personalized experience for me (a “formative album,” as I tend to call these certain gems). They won’t be headlining any more North American shows “for a very long time,” they said, but they will be supporting Evanescence next year, and the second I heard that announcement, you can bet I bought my ticket with the utmost quickness. – Kendall Graham

The Paradox are relative newcomers to the pop-punk scene, but they’re coming in with a bang. They crashed in last summer with the viral success of songs like “Do Me Like That” and the Travis-Barker-assisted “Bender,” and are carving out a space for those of us who may have grown up feeling like we didn’t also belong in this space. An all-Black band originating from Atlanta, they’re a unique, largely Gen-Z-comprised quartet who embrace the unabashed chaos of growing up and all the mess that comes with it. They also have nicknamed themselves “Black-182,” which is both an apropos and self-deprecating nickname.

I was kind of blown away seeing that they’d be playing in my small town. The Muse is a small nightclub on Nantucket that’s been having what I’ve been referring to as a musical renaissance this year, and I jumped at the chance to see The Paradox at a pretty intimate venue; Nantucket is a popular tourist destination, and the size of its live music spaces in comparison to the swell of seasonal traffic we get breeds a bit of an exclusive atmosphere. It wasn’t as packed as I thought it might be, considering The Paradox were about to begin their support on All Time Low’s tour (who played the same venue within a few days’ time), but it was just as well, because it was a privilege to see an emerging band rock as hard as they did. Sprinkled throughout the set, the guys engaged in raunchy, NSFW banter that underscored their youthfulness. These are pop-punk connoisseurs who are definitely students of their predecessors; I consider this a once-in-a-lifetime show as I’m sure The Paradox’s star will continue to rise. – Kendall Graham

The Shrine Auditorium brought grit and energy to a sold-out show on a fall night, October 24. Goldenvoice arranged a phenomenal show that was well organized upon entry and curated a Los Angeles spark that recalled punk memories of the Glass House in Pomona, featuring the runner-up act, Black Lips. The show carried a charge of the moment, while the American lead singer of Viagra Boys, Sebastian Murphy, stated, with satire and admiration for the crowd, “I have never seen so many people with immaculate taste.” The smell of beer and vibrant lights stunned the crowd. They continued to surprise the crowd with a never-before-performed debut track, “Therapy.” The crowd brought a punk attitude, elbows held firm, bodies moving through the crowd, and hands shaped as a pyramid displaying their symbol of strength and their favored “Pyramid of Health” specialty drink, served in a tall can of beer and a tequila shot, to toast the well-being of the fans as they delivered a satisfying, sweat-drenched staple of a night out in Los Angeles. – Ashley Littlefield

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