Don’t pass the nirvana – pass the champagne! Pierce The Veil’s celebration of their story so far brings deep cuts galore to Wembley, and they’ve rarely sounded better.
“Holy shit, are we at Wembley?” exclaims the ever-humble Vic Fuentes as he takes in thousands of grinning faces between these four historic walls. After almost 20 years of inching up the ladder of success, here Pierce The Veil are, more powerful than ever. Of their crop of bands, they’re one of the few to not just have truly endured, but to have been clutched to the chests of both elder emos and a newer generation. It’s mostly younger fans here tonight, dressed rebelliously in ripped tights and miniskirts like the greatest occasion of their lives await. They don’t know what’s going to hit them.
It’s this tranche of fans who are catered for more with the support acts, who may not usually belong on bills together but here all make sense. Crawlers might be on before the clock has even struck six, but they possess the fearlessness (and playfulness) of a band who see the insides of arenas every damn day. Songs like the driving, determined I Don’t Want It and spiky newbie Cool push their feistier, louder side into the spotlight, setting the tone for an imminent new era.
Hot Mulligan are a bouncier yet more abrasive follow-up, bounding through their material from to the sunny, surf-ready Island In The Sun to the boisterous *Equip Sunglasses* and firing off rib-tickling lines. “When you guys say ‘pierce’ it sounds like ‘piss’, so it sounds like ‘piss the veil’,” jokes vocalist Tades Sanville.
They’re the sour to Cavetown’s sweet, and Robin Skinner’s songs gain a lovely third dimension when played live with his band. The crowd screams when Vic appears for a vocal warm-up in the form of their duet A Kind Thing To Do, but later, toward the end, something switches. After Home receives a joyous sing-along (“You guys know it?” a flattered Robin asks), Boys Will Be Bugs and Deviltown seem to glow brighter and properly soar, and it might just move the needle of any newcomers who hadn’t quite come around yet.
Then, the men of the hour get their moment. PTV’s current tour is a celebration of all five of their albums, treated not as a nostalgia trip but as a moment to reward the fans who have dove deep into their discography. They seem to have found an extra cylinder to fire on – the energy and precision they have tonight is even a step up on their excellent Alexandra Palace headliner last year.
After opener Death Of An Execution builds up slowly to a joyous detonation, Bulls In The Bronx is a giddy road trip to their first huge peak in their Collide With The Sky era, but it’s Pass The Nirvana that’s the real pulse-raiser, a sexier, heavier arena rock behemoth that’s the apex of how good they can be live. Then, it gets niche. Some true deep cuts are unearthed, yet still sound incredible in a room this size, especially the rarities from debut album A Flair For The Dramatic, from the angst-ridden Yeah Boy And Doll Face and the wickedly scrappy I’d Rather Die Than Be Famous to an utterly divine Wonderless.
Just as surprising is what gets left out. There’s no Bulletproof Love, no Besitos – even stranger, there’s no Caraphernelia. In fact, 2010’s Selfish Machines gets a little sidelined, but the rapturous left-turn of Disasterology, which gets pride of place in the encore, helps to redeem this.
Finishing with a classic, gleaming gold pairing of Hold On Till May – dedicated to anyone who believes music saved their lives – and King For A Day, Pierce The Veil have made something genuinely creative out of their re-run of their greatest moments, and it always has a huge, bursting heart. For some of the younger fans here, who may not have been to many gigs if any at all, this could feel life-changing.
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