From one hundred sleepless nights, filled with anxiety, and a denied media pass to front row view and a lucky trinket to remind me of an unforgettable night. I just had the privilege of seeing Pierce The Veil live in their greatest tour so far: I Can’t Hear You, and I am here to share how I connected with this experience in a wholesome level.

Can Anyone Relate to Pre-Concert Anxiety?

As days passed, my excitement for Pierce The Veil’s show in Toronto slowly turned into anxiety. Building my own blog, paying for professional emails, editing pictures, making sure everything was perfect so they would approve my media pass. I was balancing the fan excitement with scoring one of the greatest gigs ever. Buying plane tickets, finding accommodation, dealing with personal issues that ended with me going to Toronto alone — just like back in 2022. I was burned out when the week of May 28th arrived, and everyone around me could tell.

I was strangely anxious about travelling alone, which was unusual for someone who had crossed the hemisphere to immigrate to a different country. I wondered if my brain got rewired, I wondered why was I so scared. I kept thinking the worse — the flight will be cancelled, the hotel won’t have my reservation, it will rain during the show, I’m gonna stay so far back I won’t be able to see them on the stage — I was spiralling. The real reason? I was afraid this experience which I anticipated for months would be less than perfect.

Miss Barricade Strikes Again

I landed in Toronto at 7 a.m and the something in me shifted immediately. I headed straight to the hotel, already having my media pass denied. Strangely enough, I was fine with it, which is unusual for how I react when things don’t go the way I plan. But for some reason, I knew I wouldn’t need to worry. This show would be what I always hoped it to be: unforgettable.

I arrived at Budweiser Stage an hour before doors opened, just to wait in the rain and cold. I swear, it was the longest hour of my life. I made some friends in line before we finally hopped inside. One of them grabbed my hand and said, “Let’s get to the front,” and honestly, I didn’t believe I’d be able to get that close since people had been lining up since noon. I’ve been to many concerts, I know how things work in the pit.

Nevertheless, I ran to the crowd. And to my surprise, I steadily made my way to the barricade. Don’t ask me why or how — the movement in the pit just happened naturally. I snuck in without pushing anyone. I proudly made to the 3nd row and I have absolutely no regrets.

“Hi. Don’t Be A Dick” – Much Love, Nick

Beach Weather finished their set and by the time Sleeping With Sirens hit the stage, I was two rows behind the barricade, with the folks who had paid to meet the headliners through the meet and greet. My silly hand even had a spotlight in Sleeping With Sirens’ official Instagram photos (something my friend had to point out to me). I was so close that I managed to snatch a pick from Nick Martin, the band’s rhytm guitarrist, mid-air — which, at first, I thought had slipped away. But when I opened my hand, there it was, sitting between my palm and my glove. A one-of-a-kind moment.

Sleeping With Sirens lit up the crowd right after the indie rock vibe settled with Beach Weather. They played major tracks like Father’s Trophy Son, If You Can’t Hang Better Off Dead, and an honorable mention to Bloody Knuckles, which had me skipping around, so happy.

The Perfect Timing

I have to mention Kellin’s words before the first chorus of Better Off Dead, which resonated with me:
“For anyone who’s been feeling burnt out, who thinks they don’t deserve to be here — you deserve to be here tonight, you deserve this moment. We are so grateful you all made it here.”

It touched a deep wound — those intrusive thoughts I’d had a couple weeks before the concert: I don’t deserve to be here. Then he added, “I hope ten years down the road you remember this day, like, ‘Hey, remember that day we waited in the cold and rain just to have a good time with Sleeping With Sirens and Pierce The Veil.’” I loved the sense of nostalgia, because that’s exactly what crosses my mind every time I’m at a show.

And hearing one of your favorite artists live, sending that message to you, feels like a blanket wrapping around your heart. Another highlight was Vic’s speech during Hold On Till May, which complimented Kellin’s words. Weird enough, I caught it on a video I was recording to send my mom, saying “I made it, Mom. I made it here, after all these months, I made it here.” And right after, Vic says on the mic, “Thank you everyone for coming here tonight. You guys made it. Thank you for holding on till May.” Of course, I felt a shiver run down my spine.

The Emo Eras Tour

What I loved most was how the show told a story. It was divided by Pierce The Veil albums and how they connected with each other. The lights were impeccable, and the stage presence from Vic, Jaime, and Perry was insane. Kudos to Jaime for coming to the barricade and letting fans touch him all over the place (everyone was respectful — kudos to the folks too!). It was a beautiful moment.

One of the greatest highlights was the transition from May These Noises Startle You In Your Sleep to Hell Above, which I was a surprise to me (because apparently, I live under a rock). The stage lights went red, and Vic held a speaker with an piercing white spotlight, shooting it at the crowd as he recited the words from the Collide WIth The Sky intro track. It sent goosebumps down my spine and made for such a powerful experience. Well done!

I feel like I don’t need to dive too much into the playlist since sites like Setlist.fm already have that info and I don’t want to spolier the setlist. But to be honest, before going to the show, despite all the videos all over social media, I refused to look. I wanted to be surprised. I wanted to wish for a song to be played and scream when a wildcard showed up. I wanted the full experience — to feel it.

Every song that made to the setlist meant something to me. Friends lost along the way, the pain of living away from my family, the hurt of watching them grow old without me, betrayal from past lovers. Even songs that simply reminded me how much time I still have, how grateful I am for opportunities people would kill for. The list goes on. Some of the songs were Today I Saw The Whole World, Hold On Till May, I’m Low on Gas and You Need a Jacket, Bulls in the Bronx, Caraphernelia, Hell Above — I missed Dive In, though…

The Encore and The Message

Obviously, the encore was King for a Day, with the special presence of Kellin Quinn. I expected it — just like the transition from The Pixies’ Where Is My Mind to my first favorite Pierce The Veil song Floral & Fading. But seeing it in person, watching those two share the stage, felt like a privilege. The crowd’s energy was unmatched, and in that moment, I knew: I made it. This was the peak experience. Everything was worth it.

My greatest anxiety before the show was how I’d feel after it. So many of us deal with post-concert depression — when you anticipate something for months, and when it’s over, you’re left with nothing but emptiness. But shockingly, when it was all said and done, as I walked back in the rain, I carried with me a memorable little token to remind me of this night. More than that, I had an overflowing sense of wholesomeness. Mission accomplished: I made it. I saw them live, and I enjoyed every little second.

All that anticipation was channeled into the million flashlights during Hold On Till May, the tears during I’m Low on Gas and You Need a Jacket, and the screams in Bulls in the Bronx.

If I can leave you with one message — for concert-goers and people who connect with live performances on a deeper level — let it be this:

The imperfections of an experience are what make it unforgettable.

Be in the moment. Record those thirty seconds of your favorite song, but don’t live through the screen. Open your eyes wide, let your pupils dilate to the lights, let your tears fall down your cheeks, and let your voice crack as you scream from the top of your lungs. Live it.

Because ten years from now, you’ll hear that song that reminded you of your stupid ex or a friend you lost along the way, and you’ll feel that same warmth in your heart you felt the night of that show.