Live Review: Twenty One Pilots

They break out the confetti cannons in the first five minutes of tonight’s Twenty One Pilots show. Huge jets blast bursts of fog. A hooded figure stands on top of a car. The car is on fire. There’s a gentle piano interlude and a scream-heavy breakdown. This all takes place during the very first song, Jumpsuit. For this sea of teenagers in army-green jackets accented with strips of yellow tape, everything this duo does is stupendously exciting, and they do A LOT.

This is a band born of, and for, the internet age. Their show is a ceaseless sensory onslaught with videos and voiceovers between songs. Various beanies, balaclavas and costume changes reflect the aesthetic of each distinct era of the band. Fans - known as the Skeleton Clique - squeal with delight during the opening notes of every song. Songs no one had heard until two months ago, like Morph and Neon Gravestones, are chanted with the fervour and familiarity of a national anthem. Everything is so deeply felt and monumental. It’s like stepping back into adolescence. 

Frontman Tyler Joseph sings, raps, jokes, plays piano and ukulele and lurches around the stage with his bass. Josh Dun belts his drums, mugs for the cameras and just seems like a really chill guy. They are forgivably liberal with backing tracks. Consistent throughout their tireless genre-hopping is a keen sense of melody and dynamics. My Blood becomes a fluorescent rave and then a singalong. During Ride Joseph incites mass shoulder rides. In Lane Boy, a gang of people in gas masks appear and spray fire extinguishers. Moments like these feel exciting, alive and remarkably countercultural for a show this size. 

More cool stuff: Dun backflips off the piano and scissor kicks off the drum riser. He plays a drum kit perched literally on top of the audience. Joseph raps atop a very small and quite high platform that seems not very safe. At one point he suddenly, inexplicably appears in another part of the arena. There’s a palpable sense that anything can happen at any moment. It’s a two-man multimedia extravaganza. The grand finale, Trees, is a sincere, synth-heavy EDM rave complete with even more confetti.

Parents of tweens shepherding their kids to a show could do a lot worse. It all feels like a pretty healthy and wholesome expression of two nice boys with a lot of big emotions who know just what to do with them. Their hard-working, frenetic, impressively athletic performance wears away any arm-folded cynicism. Beneath our hardened adult exteriors, aren’t we all a part of the Skeleton Clique?