Long Live: Grief, Community, and My Chemical Romance
- Samantha Blyn
- Aug 21
- 5 min read
Over the past two weeks, I was lucky enough to see My Chemical Romance’s Long Live The Black Parade tour on its first two east coast stops: East Rutherford, New Jersey, and Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. It was a live music experience like nothing I’d ever seen, and I was reminded of how much this band means to me. Friday, August 15, MCR’s traveling bloodbath visited Citizens Bank Park in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Even though I had already seen this show once, I was even more excited than the first time. Not only was my seat much closer to the stage, but I was going to be with friends who, I’d argue, I never would have met without My Chemical Romance.
Some (or rather, quite a bit of) backstory is necessary here: I, like so many others, have history with this band. The first time I remember hearing My Chemical Romance was in eighth grade, when someone sang “I Don’t Love You” in the middle school talent show. I don’t remember the first My Chem song I listened to on my own, but around that same time, “Famous Last Words” made me a fan for life. As a recent beginner guitar player, nothing sounded cooler to me than that big riff and explosive solo in the bridge. Frank Iero and Ray Toro became my first favorite guitar players. I was also struck by the shouting chorus, “I am not afraid to keep on living/I am not afraid to walk this world alone.” Looking back, I think I kept listening for the conclusion of that thought: why were they not afraid to keep on living? Wasn’t life so scary? Remember, I was thirteen.
As it turned out, I discovered My Chemical Romance at the perfect time for me. My mom had just been diagnosed with cancer, and (as an adult, I now recognize) I had a lot of feelings I couldn’t name. But this recently-broken-up band I just got into put a lot of those feelings into words. Because they were frozen in time, I dug into their discography, read old interviews, and watched live performances on YouTube to fully immerse myself in this thing I had apparently just missed. I never stopped loving them, but as the years went on, MCR became the “my mom has cancer” band. Eventually, I found it difficult to listen to their music, and hardly did anymore. As some more time passed, they became the “my mom is dead” band, and I stopped listening completely.
It wasn’t until a year after her death that I decided to give My Chem another go. Some songs still brought up those difficult feelings, but I was relieved to find that I enjoyed them again. Unlike some other music I liked in middle school, these songs weren’t explicitly about teenage angst, so they stood the test of time. “Famous Last Words,” the one that hooked me in initially, still left me awestruck, but this time the chorus meant something different. I was no longer an insecure teen who had received some bad news. I was a young adult who had received worse news. What do you do when you’re thirteen and your mom is given a terminal diagnosis? You try your best to be “not afraid to keep on living” yourself. What do you do when a few years have passed and you still can’t believe she’s gone? You try to do that again.
Although I could “handle” My Chemical Romance again, I still thought it would be too hard emotionally to see them on their 2022 reunion tour. But when Long Live The Black Parade was announced, I was ready. In the intervening years, I started a hobby as a live music photographer, using my mom’s old camera. For some reason, I decided that the Philly date of this tour would be my goal. I had never taken photos of a band that wasn’t my friends, or opening for my friends. I had never worked with a publication, requested a photo pass, or even taken photos at a venue with actual seats. But sure, MCR, here I come. If I was going to have any shot at this, I needed to get to work. I got my first photo pass in January of this year, and that night, joined a community of local photographers I never knew existed. Their kindness and support helped me to start working with publications, gain more experience, and meet some amazing people. I’m convinced that if I hadn’t set My Chem as this lofty goal, none of that would have happened.
While I did not get a photo pass for Citizens Bank Park, our photographers’ group chat realized in the days leading up to the show that we have a solid group of superfans. Some of us had tickets already, and some were shooting the show. We planned to get to the venue early and meet up, as many of us had not met in person before. While chatting a bit, I don’t remember what I said, but the response I received was “Anything for you, who I just met.” I thought it was sweet and it made me laugh, but that turned out to be the theme of the night. There was friendship bracelet trading, shouting compliments to strangers across crowded aisles, and sharing tissues when things got emotional. I even ran into two old friends, one of whom I had no idea was going to the concert. We kept repeating, “Can you believe we’re here?!” Before the music even started, it felt like such a special night.
Once again, the show was a theatrical wonder. The band clocked in for their performance, punching time cards monitored by one of the Dictator’s henchmen. The DRAAG Auxiliary Band had a guest performer, Frank Iero’s father on drums. The Phillies mascot, the Phillie Phanatic, came onstage before the execution and threw cheesesteaks into the crowd. The highly-anticipated B-stage set opened with Bullets classic “Headfirst For Halos,” sending the audience into a frenzy. Two B-sides, “Bury Me In Black” and “Heaven Help Us,” were also real treats.
I did have a borrowed point-and-shoot camera with me, so I was able to capture a few moments from a show that felt almost unreal. In my excitement leading up to both the New Jersey and Philadelphia concerts, my friends and family kept saying “I never knew you liked them like this.” I’m not sure I did either; I never put it into words. It’s easy to dismiss yourself as being dramatic, or too nostalgic, if you love something from your teen years into adulthood like this. But My Chemical Romance was like coming home: their music helped me grow up in my young teens, then I did some growing up without it, and more recently it’s helped me push myself and grow again. I may not have been in the photo pit, but I still call this a mission accomplished. It is my genuine hope for everyone to have something that makes them feel like this, even for one night.
