September 13, 2025 was still scorching at 6:30 p.m., which is typical for Florida this time of year. So, I was sweating in my oversized My Chemical Romance t-shirt mostly from heat. But, also from nerves that had my bones practically vibrating out of my skin. Though, it could have also been from fury and exertion after walking myself and my friends confidently to section 304 of Raymond James Stadium. After getting all the way there we realized we were supposed to be in section 340.
Seating mishap aside, we made it unscathed. We settled into the nosebleeds among a sea of black t-shirts, short skirts and ripped jeans, studded belts and dyed hair. Filing into the stadium for the last stop on the U.S. leg of My Chemical Romance’s Long Live The Black Parade Tour—Tampa, Florida, which usually isn’t anyone’s last stop unless it’s a final destination—I was transported back to being an emo middle schooler. But this time surrounded by thousands of other emo middle schoolers (literally in some cases).
When My Chemical Romance were at their peak, from their big break around Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge in 2004 up until the hiatus following Danger Days in 2009, I was also in my prime for being obnoxiously obsessed with them. The outwardly emo thing didn’t last past 2006, when high school unfortunately taught me to blend in unless I wanted to be singled out. But I was still emo on the inside, burning bootleg CDs of The Black Parade and Panic! at the Disco’s A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out because I barely had my own money to buy albums then. I needed it more to put gas in my car so I could make it to marching band practice on time.
baby’s first black parade
I’ve been a My Chemical Romance fan for 20 years, but I’d never seen them live until now. Raymond James Stadium was packed this Saturday night. As I looked around me I noticed the crowd was much younger than expected. I eavesdropped a little on the people sitting behind me; two women talking about when they became fans. One asked the other when she graduated high school, and she said 2018.
The inevitable passage of time is often cruel and unusual, and it comes for us all. But I didn’t expect to be slapped in the face with it so obviously. Except maybe I should have. Is this how my dad felt when I started getting into Talking Heads in college? To be confronted with someone much younger than you showing wide-eyed interest in something you’ve been a fan of for decades? That you were on the cutting-edge of when it was brand new? It’s enough to make you start taking calcium supplements.
Still, I didn’t go to a lot of live shows when I was a teenager. This feels like I missed out on some crucial worldbuilding. By the time I was actually getting into live shows, when I could recklessly spend my own money on concert tickets, My Chemical Romance wasn’t touring anymore. Tragically, I’d missed the window.
My chemical romance was there when i was growing into my bones
So, now it was Baby’s First Black Parade, but different. Older, weathered, heavy with metaphor and meaning. We’ve seen the clips and the YouTube videos from tour, read the reviews from critics who were mostly on the fringes of the 2000s emo-pop-punk era (there are some exceptions, of course).Those are great and insightful, full of excitement at the theatricality of it all. The shadowy dictator sitting unseen somewhere yet watching us all closely, the public execution with a rigged voting system, setting half the damn stage on fire during “Famous Last Words,” Gerard Way getting stabbed by a clown before they both explode. But I, like so many of us, came up with My Chemical Romance. They were there when I was growing into my bones.
My formative teen years were shaped by Three Cheers, The Black Parade, and Danger Days. In a more distant capacity, also their 2002 debut. By “Helena” and “The Ghost of You” music videos on VH1, after MTV imploded with reality television. Look, I spent an entire 2007 Grand Canyon road trip listening to nothing but The Black Parade on my iPod, okay. I stared out the window at miles of red rocks making up scenarios in my head to match the lyrics. I’m a sick individual.
What I’m saying is there’s no way for me to be objective about My Chemical Romance. Ultimately, this is a wildly biased account on my part. However, nothing said here is a lie, or an exaggeration. I have a history with this band, and while finally seeing them live didn’t radically alter my life like I thought it would, it still felt bittersweet and special. Like going through the junk in your attic and finding your forgotten childhood stuffed animal.
My chemical romance took us back in time for the second act
Hearing The Black Parade live all the way through—paired with symbolic visuals, pyrotechnics and lighting effects, artfully chaotic theatrical asides, and Gerard Way calling us “Tampa, California” twice—was a revelation, of course. But after Frank Iero, Mikey Way, Ray Toro, and drummer Jarrod Alexander were carted off stage by secret Draag police, after Gerard Way and the clown exploded while “Blood” played on a recorded track, after the controlled fires went out and the Grand Immortal Dictator disappeared; that’s when the show really started feeling real. More like a concert, less like an orchestrated performance.
A strong breeze had kicked up once the sun set. Ray Toro’s long hair whipped around his head as he shredded on lead guitar. Way up in the nosebleeds, I had to watch most of the show from the huge screens on either side of the stage. But, it wasn’t too bad. Almost immersive, actually. I’m way past my days of being in the pit (of even affording pit tickets anymore), so this was alright, all things considered.
The importance of being hydrated
The band took the circular B-stage in the middle of the crowd following a beautiful cello interlude titled “From A to B” performed by Clarice Jensen. Dressed down in jeans and t-shirts, shedding their Black Parade personas, they stepped into familiar roles simply as My Chemical Romance, New Jersey’s finest.
They opened B-stage with “I’m Not Okay (I Promise),” a breakout hit from Three Cheers, before launching into “Bury Me In Black.” A 2004 B-side, it was never formally released or played live until their 2022 reunion tour. “The Ghost Of You” came next, unleashing its usual torrent of emotion. After that, they played “My Way Home Is Through You,” a Black Parade B-side that hadn’t seen the light of day since 2008.
The set filled out with a decent mix of early demos, mid-range hits, and a surprising amount of Danger Days. The one-two punch of “Na Na Na” and “DESTROYA” held palpable energy, as Danger Days-era tracks tend to do. “Helena” was slotted in between as a palate cleanser. Somewhere in the middle of it all Gerard Way took a moment to remind us to stay hydrated, espousing the importance of drinking water with a breathy laugh. This started up a chant of “Water! Water! Water!” and I suddenly, viscerally felt my age.
unfortunately, a stadium is not a house show
They played “It’s Not A Fashion Statement, It’s A Fucking Deathwish” from Three Cheers and “Boy Division” from the compilation Conventional Weapons, which featured 2009-era recordings before they started work on Danger Days. The early material was loud and fast, got Gerard on his knees screaming into the mic. He sounded just as vulnerable as he did when these tracks were recorded.
But being in a huge stadium, listening to My Chemical Romance perform songs from 2004, I felt a creeping shudder of cognitive dissonance. The show was amazing, I was hearing songs I hadn’t heard in years. So why did I feel kind of weird about it?
I realized then what I had missed out on by not going to shows as a teenager. These early songs weren’t meant for massive stadiums. They were meant for crowded basements and house shows. For tiny venues where most of it is a bar and not everyone is totally listening, but there’s a mosh pit and everyone is having a good time. The stadium setting didn’t lend itself to the intimate, disastrous youth of these songs, the face-to-face experience.
“i’ll find you when the sun goes black”
Still, when they closed out with “The Kids From Yesterday”—a surprising choice from Danger Days that I wasn’t expecting—things felt okay again. At first, I thought “Helena” would be the closer. “So long and goodnight,” I mean, are you kidding? But this was perfect; this was right.
“And you only live forever in the lights you make / When we were young we used to say / That you only hear the music when your heart begins to break / Now we are the kids from yesterday.”
A farewell for now, or maybe forever, or maybe not at all. Bittersweet, colored by years and age and memory. Our memory, their memory. What struck me the most about the entire show, but especially B-stage, was how happy they all looked up there. There was barely a moment where Ray Toro wasn’t grinning. Where Mikey Way wasn’t cheesing about something, holding his bass aloft. Jarrod Alexander, who has been the touring drummer since 2019, was flawless, Frank Iero skillfully doling out guitar riffs with deft fingers. Gerard strutted around during Black Parade, scowling, fully in character. But on B-stage he was gentler, more knowable.
They looked exhausted after being on tour since July, but happy. And I was happy to see them happy. A band that had sustained me for two decades with no more than four albums. Who’d been on hiatus since 2010, who might not ever make new music again. But they were there, and we were there. Surrounded together by stars from a sea of phone flashlights, cooled by a rare breeze. And we were happy.
Photo by Steph Estrada/Alternative Press
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