Little C: Everything Is Alright

I was at work when I got the news. One of the bands I have loved deeply for over a decade, Motion City Soundtrack, were calling it quits. Unlike many of my bands who wait to break up until their interpersonal relationships are so toxic they can barely be in the same room (lookin at you Blink) the guys of MCS were just ready to move on. They announced that they would take one last tour through the states and then they would be done. And then they put up the tour schedule, and they were going to be in LA the same night that my sister Caroline hit town. So after a little begging, the show became an official sister outing. 

The show was great, and we had so much fun but also I spent a good twenty minutes while the opening band was on crying like a child. In the months leading up to the show I hadn't really wrapped my head around how much this band has meant to me. I know I've seen them live half a dozen times, and I own all the albums. I know I've dropped money on t-shirts and watched interviews and special performances on youtube, but somehow I overlooked how much this group became a part of me until I was standing in the lobby of the venue signing my name to a giant banner that read "All We Have Are Memories" on the top. And it hit me that this was the last page of a chapter and I wasn't ready to move on yet. 

But then they hit the stage, and everything I love about this band came flooding back. The infectious melodies and upbeat pop punk music over lyrics like "Let's get fucked up and die, I'm speaking figuratively of course". They were a band that was never afraid to talk about the funny or tragic parts of depression, or the strange feeling of relief in a break up. They had a very conversational style that made you feel like less like you were listening to a song and more like Justin was telling you a story about his day. From a decade that saw so many bands in the punk scene embrace theatricality this was a band that was consistently relatable and grounded. 

I do want to dive in to how these guys openly addressed mental illness, because I think it's important. They never hid how messed up they were or felt. From the first album you could tell not only that this band was extremely talented, but that Justin Pierre's head was a mess. He has OCD and depression and a few other things thrown in and he was unflappably honest with topics like his medication and therapy. And it made it feel okay for me to feel broken or feel like my head was a mess too. And to talk about it the way he did, with a little humor thrown in to soften the blow was amazing. We as a country are so bad at a lot of how we deal with mental illness. We badly want to be able to put people who's brains don't work perfectly in a box with clear and defined boundaries. But for those of us who live with a little touch of a lot of problems it's never so simple. And when most people can't understand, it's so comforting to know that there's this guy from Minnesota who feels the same. He's just better at saying it. 

Thanks for everything guys,

Little C (Sister Soldier etc. etc.)