Live Review: Fall Out Boy - The O2, London 02/11/2023
At the start of November 2023, Fall Out Boy returned once more to the UK for the ‘So Much For (Tour)Dust’ UK/EU dates, including two sold out nights at the O2; and nothing — neither storm warnings nor travel strikes — could stop the clamouring crowd from being there on their first night, Thursday 2nd November.
Everyone knows Fall Out Boy. That’s basically a given at this point. From the old-school, scene-defining hits that shaped a generation to the more recent pop-rock anthems — used near indiscriminately in Disney films, Ghostbuster remakes, and RuPaul’s Drag Race alike — Fall Out Boy are one of those rare bands that span both generations and genres. One of the few bands that can headline Reading and Leeds and somehow appease both the old guard traditionalists and the cocky, young upstarts. Having them descend once again upon the O2, with their particular brand of theatrical performance, felt right; add the two openers into the mix, in the form of PVRIS and nothing,nowhere., and the O2 provided yet another night to remember.
With pounding bass emanating from the stage and walloping the excited crowd members rushing into the venue in the face, the night was already in full swing even before the extensive queues and security had been conquered. The few hundred lucky enough to have already rushed to the barrier, though, were in for a treat: the support for the night was none other than nothing, nowhere. Bursting straight into opener ‘THIRST4VIOLENCE’, the melodic rapper started strong and refused to relent. From the sanguine-soaked ‘nightmare’ or frenzied ‘fake friend’ to the usually-Will Ramos - featuring ‘anxiety’, with Mulherin providing an oppressive and impressively impactful scream of his own, or the modern-pop-punk-anthem of ‘Hammer’, a good few hundred happily screaming and jumping along, the set was just a hell of a lot of fun.
There was even a fantastic (if shortened) cover of Linkin Park’s ‘One Step Closer’ the crowd happily screaming the majority of Mike Shinoda’s parts while the American rapper, known mostly for (you guessed it!) his raps, did a crazily admirable job replacing Chester’s iconic pipes. Unfortunately, the first night failed to feature the magnificent Pete Wentz-featuring ‘CYAN1DE’ — it was aired on the Friday but too little too late for this reviewer!
A fantastic set nevertheless, and only the first of the night — for as good as nothing,nowhere. were, PVRIS’s sudden impact on the excited crowd was undeniable. Not only did the crowd seem a hell of a lot more familiar with their work, as they emerged on stage — undoubtedly helped by both an incredible tour at the start of the year and a main stage slot at Slam Dunk — but, as said crowd grew, the ‘excitement of the emos’ became a palpable, physical thing, seeming to rile everyone up by sheer group-think.
Though that might have added to the reaction, however, the set was stupidly good even in a vacuum. There was the sickly green and sinisterly serpentine ‘ANIMAL’, the brain-worm of ‘GOOD ENEMY’, the funky-guitar-line of ‘SENTI-MENTAL’, and even the delightful ‘ANYWHERE BUT HERE’, which led to Lynn taking to an acoustic guitar for the beautiful ballad, and an uprising of phone-light-forming stars from the crowd.
If you’ve noticed a capitalised theme in the titles, that’s because the set heavily featured songs from recent album ‘EVERGREEN’ — and a good thing too, with the tour giving some of the songs their first proper airings bar some intimate, acoustic shows over the summer! Yet, even in the O2 there was still that same sense of intimacy, with Lynn Gunn’s surprisingly soft-spoken speaking voice unconsciously drawing everyone in, the crowd leaning forward with bated breath, before roaring into life when the instrumentals inevitably kicked in.
Some songs did feel a little ruined by the mix, unfortunately. The opening to fan-favourite ‘Fire’, for instance, drowned the usually incendiary track and left it as more of a muffled, bass-drenched wall of sound, the lyrics sometimes hard to pinpoint over the floor-reverberating, bone rattling noise of the electronics. But there was still enough life and love in the tunes, whether the old — ‘Mirrors’, ‘My House’ — or the new, to provide one hell of a set.
With PVRIS’s self-affirming anthem ‘GODDESS’, laden with dark, bluesy riffs, helping to close the set and pump up the crowd one last time, it was time for PVRIS to vacate the stage and for the Fall Out Boy hyperventilating to begin.
Less than half an hour later, the lights began to dim, just a little, before ‘The Middle’ by Jimmy Eat World, followed closely by Fall Out Boy’s updated cover of Billy Joel’s ‘We Didn’t Start The Fire’ — side note, it’s depressing just how depressing the modern list is — serenaded the crowd. They might have only been intermission songs, but the volume of the crowd screaming along sky-rocketed. They knew. And they were right — it was Fall Out Boy time.
With the stage-spanning red curtains akin to ‘From Under The Cork Tree’ falling aside, and the Ethan Hawke-featuring ‘The Pink Seashell’ being broadcasted across the venue, the phones began to go up. Tentatively at first, not wanting to waste precious battery, but gradually more and more confidently, until hundreds of twitching phone screens provided a glittering ocean for Pete Wentz, Patrick Stump, Andy Hurley and Joe Trohman to gaze across, their sea breeze the thousands of involuntary screams under the bangs of mini fireworks firing above their heads as they dove into recent single ‘Love From The Other Side’.
This led straight into essentially a cornucopia of favourites: ‘The Phoenix’, complete with bursts of fiery flame triggered by the kick drum; sing-along favourite ‘Sugar, We’re Going Down’, which led into the first set change of the evening, and ‘Uma Thurman’, the afore-mentioned new underwater theme of a spinning starfish and layers of coral perhaps a nod to the eponymous actress’s iconic Pulp Fiction dance.
These set changes, enabled by the grandeur of the venue, came thick and fast over the evening. ‘Dead On Arrival’ saw a light rig lowered over the band, giving the stage a sense of intimacy likely not felt since the Heaven/ Hole In The Wall gigs at the start of the year, which persisted as Waterparks’ Awsten Knight joined them on stage for ‘Grand Theft Autumn / Where Is Your Boy?’; ‘Infinity On High’ classic ‘This Ain’t A Scene, It’s An Arms Race’ saw the haunting head of a Rottweiler overseeing the gig — although even the disembodied canine felt compelled to sing during the bridge; ‘Disloyal Order Of Water Buffaloes’ saw the release of transparent beach balls to be batted around and a slew of soap bubbles cascading over the crowd; ‘Headfirst Slide Into Cooperstown on a Bad Bet’, meanwhile, had an American flag being sucked down the plug hole on the stage’s ever-present pendant.
But that was nothing compared to ‘Fake Out’. Let’s set the scene: first, and most strikingly, a giant, foreboding eldritch tree sprawled across the stage. To the left, a hungry, demonic moon in fervent pursuit of the stars. The curtains, once red, now turned the beautiful, if bittersweet, leaves of an autumnal fall. And finally, the band lit by a pale pink light, somewhere between wistful and spooky, comforting and terrifying; and, with the relatively jaunty tune, it was hard to say which was closer. Even the band vacating, leaving Patrick to take to a grand piano solo — a medley of ‘Mr. Blue Sky’, ironic given the storm warnings, ‘I’ve Got All This Ringing In My Ears and None On My Fingers’ (who else misses the old-school, long-ass song titles?) and ‘Golden’, all before a full band live debut of title track ‘So Much (For) Stardust’, a song so brilliant live that it was a wonder it wasn’t already a mainstay — felt like a band fighting back the shadows of the night. There was still plenty more set to come but really it was that short sequence, with its mystifying backdrop, that offered the most wonder.
Speaking of more set, it wasn’t just classics. Oh, not at all — for every ‘Dance, Dance’ or newcomer ‘Hold Me Like A Grudge’, there was a ‘Song 2’, smiley favourite ‘Young Volcanoes’, or somehow the live debut of ‘The (Shipped) Good Standard’; that last one was released in 2008, for Hell’s sake! Talk about deep cuts.
The final few tracks, of course, didn’t quite have that surprise factor. There were four big hits that hadn’t been played, and time enough for about four more songs — you do the math. But you really can’t discount just how good each song is: ‘My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark (Light Em Up)’, with Pete’s flamethrower bass; the most classic of classics, and bane of spellchecks everywhere, ‘Thnks fr th Mmrs’; the explosive ‘Centuries’; and finally, 2003’s now twenty year old classic ‘Saturday’ to bookmark a fantastic night… while simultaneously reminding everyone in the audience just how old they actually were.
The 28-ish song set was something special. With a mixture of hits, classics, deep discographical dives and iconic covers, the band somehow managed to keep absolutely everyone on side: the elder emos reliving their youths; the families there for their kids and the radio hits; the obsessive and the fair-weather fans alike could reminisce, rejoice and revel in the twenty years and eight studio albums of the experienced pop-punk, emo, experimental aficionados. Except for fans of the frustrated, polarising ‘MANIA’, of course, which didn’t get a single look-in — but hey ho, even half of the band don’t like it, so all’s well that ends well, eh?
Words by James O’Sullivan
Photography by Abigail Shii
