Seeing American Football (A Concert Review….But Not Really)

Words By Matthew Spence:

Do I dare to explain who American Football is? Yes. Do I want to? Absolutely fucking not, so I’ll keep it brief. Highly influential Midwest band. Helped push forward the emo and math rock genre for the late 90s and early 00s. How? Well, like many artists, they unintentionally made a monumental album with their self-titled debut album. Conveniently titled: LP1. If you’re sorta taped into music, you’d most def recognize the cover. Now, the LP1 house may not be as recognized as the White House, but it damn sure is respected more than it.

The band has music that you’ll find in YouTube playlist videos like “2:49 am and They’re Still on Your Mind’ and “Seasonal Depression is my Frienemy.” They rank pretty mid-tier in the Male Manipulator music, like right below Neutral Milk Hotel but a bit higher than Weezer and the Strokes. The soundtrack to stone skipping while you reflect Dawson’s Creek style.

In the year of album anniversaries for 2024, their treasure of work LP1 turned 25, so they went on an anniversary tour playing the album in full. Originally, I was planning to go to a NY show, but after manifesting, pleading, and begging every deity like Morrissey and taking peoples’ coins from wishing fountains to reuse them for my wish: They came to Norwalk, CT. Saving me from buying train tickets, stress from planning, and voiding the potential of me getting lost in NY worse than Kevin McCallister, cause I don’t think I’m that Looney Tune resourceful. But best of all, it gave me a more guaranteed experience. And I’d be goddamned if I missed it.

Pre-Show

Gameplan: Me and the homie met up with our friendly neighborhood ticket scalper Mookie behind a GameStop the day of… I’m playing, I’m playing. We bought our tickets a few months in advance like good square civilians music goers. January 31st was an average day that turned pretty damn neat. Put on my half-baked fit (enough to where I don’t like bummy but not enough to where I’ll drown in compliments), the homie picked me up for a 50 min drive in the scary ass, dark ass rain, going up a bit in speed, all while Thom Yorke is crooning to us. Nothing better to set the tone for our feature documentary of the night: “Trust Me, I’m Not Crying for Help”, directed by Richard Linklater.

After 50 mins of driving in the rain and 7 mins of trying to find a parking spot, we were ready to be young, dumb, and full of… until my friend’s service crapped out on him and he couldn’t load his ticket. There’s always a catch. Yet, we know to take water and turn it into lemonade because we took this moment and played a mini-game: finding the goddamn Wi-Fi. We asked the coat checker, but she didn’t know if there was free Wi-Fi. Our lead was cold, but then we asked the security, and he didn’t know either. We asked the bartenders, randos, and people who know people who know people who know people.

No luck, leaving an echoed question in both of our minds and a trail that even the employees walked: “Does this place even have Wi-Fi?”

After 6 mins, one of the bartenders, sent from God’s bar, let my homie use her hotspot. You’re probably wondering, “Wait, there’s a plot hole; why didn’t you just let him use YOUR hotspot?” Ahh, my Letterbox abuser, I shall say simply: mine wasn’t working. Still thinking of giving this story 3 stars?……Whelp. No matter the inconvenience, the problem was solved, he got his ticket, and we counted 2 other Black dudes going to the concert to help us feel less out of place!

NOW IT’S TIME FOR THE GRAND ILLUSION. COME ON IN AND SEE WHAT’S HAPPENING, AND PAY THE PRICE. GET YOUR TICKETS FOR THE SHOW!! …..That’s a Styx song, by the way.

Opening Act: Wishy

Soundtracking our grand, awkward entrance, a band happily called “Wishy” was on stage before Arts students’ favorite football. Now, I honestly couldn’t tell you much about them that wouldn’t be any different from the shit you could easily Google. Considering I learned about them that night myself, I was so excited I forgot to check who the headliner was…whoops. So I couldn’t describe the set with depth regarding the tracks, but I can say, “It was really nice.” They really pampered the audience and got everyone ready for the football, where you don’t get physically hurt but emotionally. Winning the crowd over with their music, I would call “Shoegaze/Alternative that hits well.”.

American Football Set

Picture this: a chattering-filled room of people figuring out the next move when the show is over, the lights get more dim, and the energy is increasing. Picture that: the American Football House appears on screen. At that moment, I myself, my homie somewhere lost in the middle of the pit, and the entire District Hall room thought, “AHH SHIT.” Geeking upon geeking from the audience, I had to pause mine for a moment to ask a “Who Wants to be a Millionaire” question.

Will they open with “Never Meant”?

A. Fuck No

B.Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

C. Yeah, it’s the opening track

D. OH GOD, I think I’m gonna have a panic attack.

The correct answer: B

Hopefully, everyone’s bingo card for the night wasn’t trashed because they opened with “Five Silent Miles.” Moment of silence for the OCD fans at the concert, but hey, it’s all in the spirit of live music. Leading into chapter 2 of LP1 instead, “The Summer Ends,” and once I heard those horns, I instantly realized and remembered, “Did I pay to be sad for 2 hours?” However, running through the album live with a nice encore set, I can say: I have no regrets. There was a comforting atmosphere with everyone in the room. All glued together and rejoicing for the 25-year-old gateway drug to Telecasters and math chords. Now, I’m not gonna sit here and front and act like I’ve been gawking at the album since I was 11. It’s more recently, over the past couple of years or so, that I got closer to it. But I guess that shows the beauty in it; it can touch people in the most ties in their lives, no matter what age. Being surrounded by beanies, Carhartt jackets, dyed hair, and a lot of mustaches, we all witnessed moments we’ll appreciate.

• Like that awkward intermission where the band left the stage without giving bassist Nate Kresella a heads-up.
• The fun game of counting how many guitar switches the members had. Total: A fuck ton. To where Sonic Youth would submit them for the Guinness World Record.
• Last but not least, closing out with our favorite song, “Even Flow” by Pearl Jam, aka…Never Meant.

Enthusiastic (and I think sober) fans, cheering, whistling, sharing joy and memories. I walked out feeling…happy. That’s all. Happy

Score: Can’t rate a good experience. Well, you could but…….. that ruins my sweet sentimental ending.