New Jersey Had Some Feelings to Get Out

You could have been anywhere in the world on Tuesday night, but if you were at Starland Ballroom, there was probably nowhere else you would have rather been. On October 20, The Story So Far turned the New Jersey venue into a cathartic emo congregation, complete with synchronized finger-pointing, bodies flying over the barricade, and hundreds of people screaming lyrics as if Parker Cannon had personally wronged them. The room was packed before the first band even stepped onstage. By the end of the night, the only agreement was that everyone had collectively agreed to make Wednesday morning a problem for their future selves.

Ultra Q opened the evening at 7:30 p.m., setting the tone with a set that gradually brought the room to life without blowing through all the energy before the headliner arrived. Their sound and laid-back stage presence made for an easy entry into the night, giving early arrivals something worth paying attention to as the venue filled around them. The Starting Line followed with the kind of charisma that makes a band feel like an old friend who has somehow convinced an entire room to jump around. The crowd met them at every turn in their setlist, singing along and getting louder with each song. By the time their set wrapped, everyone in Starland was ready for what was coming next.

The opening notes of “The Glass” sent the room into motion almost immediately, and within the first thirty seconds, a man in a Winnie the Pooh onesie had already launched himself into the crowd. He was quickly joined by another crowd-surfer, then another, until the space between the stage and the back of the room became a steady stream of people being passed overhead for the entirety of the night.

“Out of It” kept the momentum rolling before “Big Blind” arrived as one of the night's early highlights. The response made it clear that the audience hadn't come to stand still and admire the setlist from a safe distance. Every chorus came with a fresh wave of movement, and the familiar emo finger-point was everywhere, one arm raised toward the stage as the other lifted bodies over.

The setlist gave fans plenty of reasons to lose their voices. “Roam” had the room jumping in unison, while “High Regard,” “Things I Can't Change,” and “Empty Space” brought out some of the loudest singalongs of the night. With a whopping 24 songs before the encore and two more waiting afterward, the band had enough material to reach into every corner of their catalog without making the show feel like a checklist of greatest hits. The pacing kept the room moving, and even with so many songs packed into the night, there was always another familiar opening riff waiting to set everyone off again.

For all the bodies flying overhead, some of the best moments were happening between the people on the floor. Friends found each other in the crowd, strangers jumped alongside one another, and fans encouraged people who had never crowd-surfed before to finally make the leap. There was a generosity to it all, a shared understanding that everyone was there to have the kind of night that would be difficult to explain to anyone who hadn't been in the room.

After working through “Keep This Up,” “Framework,” and “White Shores,” the band settled into “Clairvoyant” before leaving the stage. The break gave the crowd a moment to catch its breath, though nobody appeared particularly interested in calling it a night. The encore brought a cover of New Found Glory's “Vegas,” a fitting nod and kind tribute to the pop-punk lineage that helped shape the scene The Story So Far has occupied for years. Then came “Quicksand,” closing out the show with one last surge of movement. Fans had been especially eager to see which song would finish the night, as the band changes its closing track from show to show. Whatever energy remained in the room was spent.

By the time the lights came up, Starland had seen its share of sweat, crowdsurfing, bruised shins, and probably a few people reconsidering their footwear choices. The Story So Far at Starland was a reminder that punk culture has never required anyone to keep their hands to themselves, their feelings contained, or their feet on the ground. On Tuesday night, there was nowhere else to be.

Photos and review by Bek Allegretti