Cardiff CIA Sunday 25^th march 2006

The MCR army is in town and the steps that lead to the CIA are littered with teenagers since the very early hours of this cold spring morning.

The Black parade has reached Wales and there is, as always when My Chemical Romance are involved, an aura of excitement that runs sharp among the ranks of the faithful ready to worship. Because, regardless of what the tabloids can say about MCR, this is a “church” that, as cheesy as it sounds, has saved a lot of kids, maybe just from boredom, maybe from solitude and maybe from the pain that it is growing up, but they have done it and putting up one hell of a show at the same time.

Tonight the show promises to be as extravagant and over the top as the last album from the Jersey’s quintet has proved to be. Heralded by news about fireworks, stylish and baroque costumes and stage props the 5000 faithful in the arena can barely contain their excitement and even before Gerard Way appears wheeled in a gurney there is a lot of passing out in the front ranks.

When the stage is blackened by a dark curtain and the heart monitor beats the syncopated time of the crowd Gerard Way appears, white face and draped in a hospital gown and the show begins, subdued for just a second, ready to explode with the dropping of the curtain and the reveal of the rest of the band and an incredible gothic backdrop.

It’s the furious Dead! that starts the show and the crowd goes, proverbially, mad.

This is more passion that hysteria, this more love than obsession and, to be fair, MCR gives back every ounce of affection they get from the crowd and multiplies it tenfold.

The uniform, the smirks, the jumps, Gerard Way is everything and more of the beautifully deranged front man and his voice (albeit muffled by a not so great sound system) still resonates pure and powerful throughout the whole gig.

MCR dressed up in their alter egos of The Black Parade, play the last album in full with a venomous fury that is able to be even more effective than the perfectly choreographed stage show. The band is a perfectly oiled machine and they are able to convey that they are having, as well as the crowd, the time of their lives.

Bob Bryar is the thrumming heart of this driving, furious sound and his drumming provides the rest of the band with a beating, living heart. Because underneath the uniforms, the make up, the fireworks (impressive and beautifully theatrical, to underline the Vegas-esque Mama and the blistering Famous Last Words) what makes MCR stands out it’s the grittiness of their passion.

Yes they are theatrical, yes they are ostentatious and Gerard Way can be sometime obvious in his delivery, but he is never condescending and he never threats his fans as if they are just a prop to his stardom and the kids love him for it.

And that’s why he can get away with being so over the top, so camp and so impossibly beautiful even pulling faces.

That’s what is called star quality and Gerard Way, undoubtedly, has it.

The show is punctuated by the so called “awwwww” moments and nothing is more effective than the shower of sparks that bathes everything in gold and makes the haunting notes of Disenchanted even more intense, bringing the crowd to a excited silence.

So is it Broadway? Is it Vaudeville? Is it the Circus?

Is there enough space for music among all the tricks to bring amazement to the eye?

There is.

The show is structured in two parts and when The Black Parade retires, it’s the turn of MCR to come back in civil clothes and the same unbridled passion and it’s Frank Iero that leads this small army this time. With his gravity defying cavorting and the energy of a toddler high on speed, Iero is the main focus of most of the audience and his guitar playing and vocal antics are the best accompany for the last part of the show where old classics are played to please the fans and, once more, themselves.

I’m not OK erupts like fireworks among the crowd and the sing-along is deafening and so passionate that not even some bedraggled parents can’t help but tapping their feet and look at their kids jumping up and down.

Helena closes the show with the reverberating of hope and resilience and the crowd screams and screams and the curtain is softly dropped over the buzzing and thrumming of all the hearts still pumping in the arena.

Cutting?

Emo?

Moodiness?

Nothing of the above.

Today and since the beginning MCR has been about survival, friendship and music.

Tonight they celebrated all of the about.

Tonight was happiness.

Halleluiah.

words by Laila and photography by Adam Gasson