Tuesday on a Thursday – No, wait… Thursday on a Tuesday

Yesterday was rough. By the time I got off work, my girlfriend and I were at a wine bar drinking “my sorrows away on a Tuesday listening to Thursday.” We played Bananagrams. I lost horribly.

Getting into the venue was a shitshow in itself. Apparently, Paper Tiger no longer allows the regular patron to bring a camera in. Fuckers.

Because of this whole hassle, we missed the majority of Chris Conley’s set. The acoustic guitar-laden opener happened to be some guests’ favorite part of the night, though, so I can’t omit him from this article without guilt.

“Him [Conley] playing fucking Freakish. That’s my favorite Saves the Day song,” said this guy, Andy Alex. Cool name.“I started jammin’ [Saves the Day] like early, mid-2000’s. Y’know, I’m old, I’m old. Myspace era.” He may as well have been telling me about Neanderthals or Velociraptors.

Fuck… I’ve stooped low enough to make jokes about people’s age. Someone, please get me out of the house more.

Show off

My friends drank quite a few drinks waiting for Thursday. The band, not the day. They aren’t alcoholics like that, trust. I, as always, stayed sober. I’ve been pretty sober since the last show I covered – in October. Dull times over here. Anyways, I want to preface this by saying I took very few notes tonight. Was I living in the moment? Yeah, I was trying to. Was I just really tired? That sounds more like it.

Thursday hosted this concert in three acts. The first was Chris Conley, whom we’ve already covered. The second was Thursday, playing about an hour of hits, deep cuts, and more. I haven’t seen Geoff Rickley, Thursday’s lead vocalist, since I was about 15, bouncing around at the Paper Tiger with my side-parted hair and zero makeup. And I have never seen Thursday as a whole, complete band.

I can confidently say that I have not seen punk energy like this in years. That’s SAD, guys. Get me out, check on me, PLEASE.

Thursday was ripping and roaring, jumping and bashing, spitting and snarling, a pack of wolves tearing apart their kill, like a lion let loose from the zoo that found a group of children.

The crowd attempted to match Thursday’s energy, but it was unimaginable. Thursday was just too much: too great, too rowdy, too wild, too punk.

Rickley started out in the back. I’m 5ft (5ft 2in with my Docs on tho…), and I saw nothing. People were holding their phones up trying to capture a glimpse, but it was fruitless. It was a tall crowd…

Somehow, Rickley materialized on stage with the rest of the band. Were they old? Yes. I mean, this was a 25TH ANNIVERSARY TOUR. But it didn’t matter. The band had more energy than the mojo of the entire crowd combined.

Rickley was showing off his vocals just as much as his energy. Out of the fourteen words I jotted down last night, “Show off” were two of them. The other twelve were: “Everyone’s so tall. I can smell all the farts from down here.” Some wise words for the readers: STOP SHITTING YOUR PANTS IN CROWDED ROOMS. Holy shit. I COULDN’T BREATHE. MY FRIENDS COULDN’T DRINK. It was ABSURD.

Lauren’s Full Collapse

The latter half of Thursday’s set was a stellar, superb, spectacular performance of their 25-year-old album Full Collapse in its entirety.

Nothing gets better than that.

I did my usual maneuvers, fighting people off at the side stage and then elbowing my way to the center of the crowd so I could shoot my best pics.

I was thrilled – in my element. Until this chick crowd surfed. The first few times were fine. Even though I FUCKING HATE crowd surfers and make this VERY well known, I even helped her stay afloat a few times. But by the dozenth time her Converse kicked me in the face and her dyed-red ponytail got stuck in my teeth, I caught the flash that fell off my camera and shoved my way to freedom.

God damn girl, CHILL.

I stumbled into Paper Tiger’s courtyard, dehydrated, overheating, trying not to collapse completely.

I fell into a chair and went through the photos I managed to snap.

By the time I was done, the crowd started funneling out of the main room.

Oops.

Since I know none of y’all care about my favorite part of the night, I’ll summarize the responses I got from the crowd:

“My favorite part was reliving my middle school years… And of course Understanding in a Car Crash,” said Clarissa, who knew every lyric to Every. Single. Song. Pretty much everyone I interviewed agreed with this sentiment.

Chris, who’s been “listening to Thursday since I was 15, dating my first girlfriend. We saw them at Warped Tour. It was the first time I ever crowd surfed,” did share a final piece of wisdom for you lucky readers who’ve made it this far:

“Love your life. Don’t do hard drugs,” he advised

“All right. Peace out, homies. Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

Gallery by Lauren Hernandez