With the onslaught of reunion tours and themed festivals that have popped up since the pandemic has simmered down (but let’s be honest, has it?), it only seemed right to throw in a scene fest amongst the jam bandy, stadium rock gatherings we’ve been seeing. There was When We Were Young, its own little toe dip into devotion of an era when Hot Topic was still kind of cool, but why see burned CD classics on land? How 2019 of us. Thankfully, scene king Matt Cutshall took his “emo’s not dead” bit to the shallow seas (we sail) with a freaking cruise… and it was awesome.
The inaugural Emo’s Not Dead Cruise was a bit of curveball. Emos and water? Here’s where you’d insert a joke about turning the ocean black with our tears. Yet, something about it just… worked. From acoustic sets to bands playing seminal albums in full to a casino and other randomness, Cutshall didn’t come to play. The rest of us did, though, and we stepped into a MySpace wonderland ready to relive arguably the best era of our lives. There’s something about the collective excitement of a shared experience. You can feel everyone else’s energy and, the more people there are, the more amplified that zeal becomes. In essence, that’s what walking onto the Norwegian Jewel felt like — the wind and misty skies literally not raining on anyone’s (black) parade.
But this is only a fraction of what happened during the week. Getting around a regular festival is hard enough, and can be even more challenging in the middle of the ocean. Still, the ship became home, and for those four days, we treated it as such.
Tuesday, November 8th: Emery, Hawthorne Heights, and the welcome party of a lifetime
Night one was a bit of a doozy amongst the cruisers. The lay of the ship took some getting used to thanks to its many floors, twists and turns, but what clearly wasn’t difficult to find at all were the bars and the welcome party. The Bliss Lounge, a walkthrough bar connecting the middle floor of the ship, was taken over by a DJ set of millennial classics like Lit’s “My Own Worst Enemy” and the famously emo message behind Papa Roach’s “Last Resort.” The ship hadn’t even left the Los Angeles port yet, but the booze was flowing and the kiddies were screaming.
Especially at Emery’s set at Magnum’s downstairs stage. Think of it as the basement house show venue of a boat, and the entire place was packed with people aggressively looking to express their need for a good mosh. As Emery plowed through some of their familiars, elder emos plowed through the packed pit. It was glorious to watch, like one of those ant death spirals. Though it seemed like too small a venue for a band that goes that hard right of the gate, Emery mentioned they intentionally picked it as a way to get back to their early show roots. That energy wafted throughout the air, as it did at New Found Glory’s first set. Frontman Jordan Pundik ran out in full ship captain attire ready to go with “Understatement.” A new addition onstage was William Ryan Key from Yellowcard, subbing in for Chad Gilbert, out due to health reasons.
In a somewhat similar way, the acoustic sets Hawthorne Heights and Silverstein played in the Spinnaker Lounge were teeming with emotive faces and broken hearts. Milder on the artists’ side yet just as if not more impassioned on the audience’s, the Spinnaker stage was met with feverish shouts and honestly. That was to be expected though, since devotion and desire were brewed in cauldrons of Manic Panic hair dye. When Hawthorne was up, they invited a couple from Norway onstage to get engaged. It was like a Tumblr romance come to life.
In Silverstein’s case, it was singer Shane Told performing solo on this night. There was a different type of intimacy to his performance — just him and his guitar allowed for more chatter and interaction with fans staring up at him in adoration. It also made for a nice distraction for people who were waiting patiently to see Dashboard Confessional. They were supposed to play on the pool deck but wind and cold air caused a major delay. Chris Carraba and co. were moved to the late night slot at the Stardust Theater, but that didn’t stop anyone from being awake enough to cry over “Vindicated,” “Hands Down” and of course, “Screaming Infidelities.” It was a good way to ease into the next few days — gentle, but pleasantly jarring to the senses.
Highlights: JT from Hawthorne Heights very hilariously and accurately saying “This is 401k emo. It isn’t cheap to do this,” when expressing gratitude for everyone who was able to be on the cruise.
Emo’s Not Dead Cruise, courtesy of Sixthman
Wednesday, November 9th: Belly flops and family feuding through the nausea
Today was the day everyone fully realized the party wouldn’t stop. It also was the day that shouldn’t have been spent hungover. We were fully at sea, and seasickness plus hungover-ness is like the fruitcake of physical ailments — just straight up dreadful. Since the ship left the port a little later than intended, we were full speed ahead, going at a much faster pace. Still, Bloody Mary’s and Dramamine were the cure-all, plus the frigid fun of a New Found Glory-hosted belly flop contest on the pool deck. Sea breeze really isn’t a joke, but the wind didn’t stop anyone from splashing about like summer never ended. The chill also made Silverstein’s pool deck performance a little rough, but as they went in head first against unsavory conditions. If emos are anything, it’s loyal, and we stood there alongside them with pleasure.
Hump day was also packed with non-show nonsense to indulge in. Outside of the belly floppers, Underoath also went head-to-head with the Cutshalls and co. in a battle of the familial wits in the cruise’s take on the classic gameshow Family Feud. Hosted by a spunky little darling donning a navy blazer, dark slacks and a pair of the Emo’s Not Dead-branded tighty-whities over those pants — who aptly chose to go by the name Steve Harvey — the enjoyably corny set up of “I Hate My Family” Feud didn’t even leave that much to be desired in comparison to Family Feud’s real set up. The lack of blinding lights helped the audience but didn’t do much for the players on stage, since everyone was so drastically tragic at giving good answers. Especially on Underoath’s side, who suffered defeat at the hands of the Cutshalls. They had some gripes about it, but nothing playing another game couldn’t fix. Dirty Bingo, which surprisingly and unfortunately wasn’t like strip bingo, was the last of the games for the night. Obviously regular bingo with a twist, squares were marked something salacious, each round getting you closer and closer to knowing the rest of the room in ways you probably shouldn’t have.
Highlight: Underoath being absolutely terrible at “I Hate My Family” Feud. Like, honestly horrible, which I guess is proof of how much they actually hate each other in a family sense.
Thursday, November 10th: Mexico, Underoath and the scene Spider-Man
Now docked in Ensenada, Mexico, after a day on the Pacific, the cruisers had the choice of staying on the ship and taking in arguably the most emo Spider-Man movie ever, Spider-Man 3, or to deboard in exploration of the city. Shuttles shipped everyone toward Downtown, steered by colorful characters pushing somewhat pricey tours and warnings of swindlers about town. Once the shuttle parked, margaritas and blasted Top 40 tracks welcomed curious tourists. Walks around town proved flirty locals, numerous vendors and tacos on every corner, but a quick stumble led back to the ship and a procession of scene tunes along the way guided us to our cabins for a midday nap. Upon waking, the music and the ship were going strong again, another set from Hawthorne Heights being like a cold shower in the morning.
As Hawthorne took the stage again, this time at the Stardust Theater, JT was still donning his sailor hat baring his “emo” title. Something about them playing under those psychedelically swirled lights gave this set an entirely different feel than their other ones so far, except for maybe their one the next day on the pool deck when they called out some dude in the pit for being aggressive. One thing the cruise definitely proved is how sonically consistent they are with their performances. Anyone who’s seen them in the scene days of yore could attest to that.
It was definitely a highlight, but probably the biggest hubbub of the night came from Underoath. They performed They’re Only Chasing Safety in full on a very blistery deck, Spencer Chamberlain’s hair wafting about like an Herbal Essences commercial. The lights shined brightly on them as they blew through “A Boy Brushed Red Living in Black and White,” “Reinventing Your Exit” and “It’s Dangerous Business Walking Out Your Front Door,” with crowd surfers crashing over the front barricades like waves. Even when someone in the crowd went down Underoath handled it with such grace, stopping the show and getting them the attention they needed, while urging the crowd to not place blame for the pausing. They resumed without fail and played the rest of their set as the evening quickly turned to night.
And then there was Thursday’s solo set at the Stardust. Initially, vocalist Geoff Rickley stood alone under a bright spotlight. The stripped down set allowed for Rickley’s voice to really standout, as it also did for his interesting sense of humor. Sometime around “At This Velocity,” Rickley began diving into a series of interesting narratives. There was one about hitting a thoroughbred horse while on tour, another about his desire to write the first commercial about bongs (even going on to possibly freestyle a song called “My Fallen Bong”), plus an admission of not knowing the difference between maritime law and airplane law.
Honestly, who does?
Highlight: The endless amount of crowd surfers during Underoath’s set that made the crowd look like a conveyor belt of frenetic pleasure seekers.
Emo’s Not Dead Cruise, courtesy of Sixthman
Friday, November 11th: Yellowcard tearjerkers, sailing in shallow seas and MCR chants
Knowing today was the last full day of the cruise was a shake to the core. Having grown so used to the rocking of the ship, being in a much more intimate setting with some of our favorite bands, coupled with the constant validation of it not being a phase for any of us, made it hard to grapple with it coming to an end. It put a little bit of a glum cloud over the day but if anything, made us appreciate and take in these last performances.
Over at the Stardust, New Found Glory came full circle having started their ship residency there. They still played with the same vigor as that first night, making everyone in the crowd sweat with a passion for pop punk release. The familiarity of the setlist wasn’t a setback—if anything, it was like throwing on that favorite burned CD with the expressive Sharpie labeling. The Stardust gleamed with zest, and when Silverstein finally graced the theater’s stage, they ended up playing one of the heaviest sets of the whole festival.
That’s not to say that they didn’t play just as hard during their others. They did, but this time, filling their time with the newer material paid off in a releasing sense. At one point, the Silverstein members, drummer Paul Koehler included, synced into a headbang damn near harder than a classic metal show. If there was any bit of angst and resurfaced teenage trauma throughout the crowd, they certainly shook it out of us. That’s what this music is for, anyway.
William Ryan Key had a different approach when it came to working through emotional delicacy. Yellowcard shows are few and far between (they’ll be playing the Slam Dunk and When We Were Young fests in 2023), so it was great to see Key give his all to the Bliss Lounge with the last of his acoustic sets. His voice carried an audible tremble as he blew through “Miles Apart,” the classic “Ocean Avenue” and “View From Heaven,” the song for his fallen friend. Tears really began to flow once he got to “Only One.” At some point or another for everyone it was their go-to song for young love, but the acoustic version just hit different. It seemed to change the energy of track from being that of a heart swelling with romantic possibility to that of one mending from its biggest loss. When Cassidee Pope, who also had a few performances during the festival, joined Key onstage to finish the song out, you could feel the mascara running.
Thankfully, Emery was the cure for that. Still on the small stage at Magnum’s, they talked a big game and delivered by running through all of …In Shallow Seas We Sail. Emery didn’t fumble in expectations at all during their ship foray, but it was easy to see how so many of the goers were waiting for this album play. The pits they garnered the other days grew bigger, the anticipation and humidity in the air grew thicker and in all regards, the room had lost their shit. Understandably so as it was a career highlight and collective favorite of the ship, and the audience’s ardor made sure the band knew that.
In a way, Magnum’s became the festival’s memorial site. After the final performance, the listless partiers grappling with it coming to an end stood listlessly in the main corridor in some sort of Sims-like limbo.
That is, until the first of the last tracks began to play. Wasted but not too rowdy, Taking Back Sunday and Panic at the Disco awakened the second wind within us all. A small bout of crowdsurfing somehow started and led to security pooping on the party by taking action, but we didn’t let that stop us. Once “Welcome to the Black Parade” started, word for word, cadence for cadence, it was we because a choir of lost souls. Our voices were wrecked, but it couldn’t have been more worth it.
Highlight: The trashed troop of the last standing somewhat successfully belting the lyrics to My Chemical Romance’s “Black Parade” and playing an inattentive game of balloon volleyball, savoring the last moments of relation and ship happiness.
Saturday, November 12th: Back to reality…
It was a little depressing, honestly, to be exiting the ship. Though perfect for the disposition and theme of the cruise in general, most of us moped around the boat longing for coffee and dreading the return to our regular lives. For those four days we got to relive our youth — a time less complicated, when acceptance was communicated through black eyeliner, MySpace quizzes, spiky belts and “rawr <3” written on our palms. Like lemmings, the queue of cruisers grew longer and heavier with the baggage we couldn’t cry away during the sets, drifting through the port terminal like our own little black parade.
And, just like that, chilled currents blew us back into reality, yearning for the next gathering of our scene community.
The Emo’s Not Dead cruise will make its second journey on February 26th, 2024, this time setting sail from Miami. Join the pre-sale list here, and visit promoter Sixthman’s website to see their other upcoming music-themed cruises, including Coheed and Cambria’s S.S. Neverender and Lamb of God’s Headbangers Boat, plus more.
Photo Gallery – Emo’s Not Dead Cruise (click to expand and scroll through):
Emo’s Not Dead Cruise Video Clips via Consequence TikTok:
@consequence @Hawthorne Heights and @Dashboard Confessional were just two of the many exciting acts we caught on the Emo’s Not Dead Cruise last week 🖤 #emo #poppunk #festivals #emosnotdead #emosnotdeadcruise
@consequence We’re just forever reliving @New Found Glory’s emotastic set at the Emo’s Not Dead cruise earlier this month 🤘🏾🖤 #newfoundglory #emosnotdead #livemusic #emo #poppunk