On February 13, 2026, Say Anything and Motion City Soundtrack played a double-headliner show at the Riviera Theatre in Uptown, with Chicago’s own Sincere Engineer opening the night.

It was, unmistakably, a night for elder emos. Of which I begrudgingly but most certainly am.

We knew that before we even walked inside. You could see it in line: old tour shirts pulled carefully from bottom drawers, hoodies from defunct bands, tattoos from earlier chapters of life. Sensible shoes. People stretching a little before doors opened. People joking about sore backs and early mornings, about how we used to camp out for shows and now we check the weather before leaving the house (it was an unseasonably warm Chicago winter night, by the way).

This wasn’t a crowd discovering these bands for the first time. This was a room full of people who knew the lore.

We knew the albums in order.
We knew the lineup changes.
We knew the interviews, the controversies, the comebacks, the hiatuses.
We knew which songs were written in basements and which ones were written after everything fell apart.

We had grown up with these bands. In real time.

Chicago based Sincere Engineer–with Deanna Belos (lead vocals and guitar), Adam Beck (drums), Kyle Geib (guitar), and Nick Arvanitis (bass)–set the tone early, grounding the night in something local and familiar before the time travel really began. Belos apologized for her hoarse voice, but really it just added to the gritty magic.

Say Anything, from Los Angeles–with Max Bemis (lead vocals and guitar), Coby Linder (drums), Alex Kent (bass), Parker Case (keyboards and guitar), Fred Mascherino (guitar), and Brian Warren (guitar)–went on next, and the energy shifted in a familiar way. Louder. Messier. More antagonistic. But just as rooted in shared history. Bemis offered his typical dry quips and hit his vape between songs, a consistently controversial but admittedly punk rock choice.

This band, in particular, has always invited its audience into the story. Into the self-examination. Into the contradictions. And we didn’t just listen to these songs when we were younger. We built identities around them.

What once felt like teenage desperation now sounded like adult honesty. What once felt overwhelming now felt strangely precise. The songs hadn’t changed. We had–sore feet and all.

When Motion City Soundtrack–out of Minneapolis, Minnesota with Justin Pierre (lead vocals and rhythm guitar), Joshua Cain (lead guitar), Jesse Johnson (keyboards and synth), Matthew Taylor (bass), and Tony Thaxton (drums)–took the stage to close out the night, it felt like a release.

They played with the confidence of a band that understands its audience completely. From the first notes, the room responded. Their songs have always balanced humor and anxiety, sincerity and self-deprecation. Hearing them now, years later, they felt like emotional landmarks. Songs we once used to survive adolescence now played to people who had survived a lot more than that.

We sang every word. And we weren’t just listening. We were remembering together.

By the end of the night, we were tired. Sweatshirts came back on. Conversations turned toward train schedules and morning alarms. Knees protested. Our voices were as hoarse as Belos’ by that point. Everyone moved a little slower toward the exits.

Not pretending we were young again.
Not denying how much has changed.
Not romanticizing the past.
Just honoring it.

And in doing so, we were reminded that growing older doesn’t mean losing your connection to the things that shaped you. It means learning how to carry them forward.

That’s what this night was.

Not a return.
A continuation.

Photos and Review by Andrea Ingrande