By Hallie Gay
Earlier this year, Suffolk-based rock band Basement released Wired, their first album since 2018’s Beside Myself, much to the excitement of countless fourth-wave emo fans, including myself. At the beginning of October, they began embarking on a US tour featuring February, Big Boy, and Momma as opening acts. On October 14th, I, along with my friend and fellow Basement fan who happily accepted my invitation, had the privilege of seeing them at the Heaven stage at Atlanta’s Masquerade, a venue I’ve become quite well-acquainted with in the past year.
Entering the space, I take note of the pre-show playlist, which is currently on “Luna” by the Smashing Pumpkins, which I think perfectly encapsulates the dreamy, intimate ambience of Underground Atlanta.
One of the biggest highlights of any show for me is the opening acts. Getting to see a band I love and leaving with an artist to queue for the drive home is, in my opinion, one of the best ways to find new music in an industry currently dominated by algorithms. Additionally, live music almost always does more justice for an artist’s sound than a studio recording, so I try to go in blind when I can. Going into this show, February is a band whose name I had encountered in the past but never familiarized myself with. As soon as they take the stage, they bring an explosive post-hardcore sound with deafeningly raw vocals. I immediately regret my failure to bring earplugs. When February concludes their set, my friend and I turn to one another to express how phenomenal they were.
We take a brief intermission between acts to visit the venue’s concession window across the courtyard. Outside, the sun has almost set, and the neon lights of the Masquerade illuminate the evening. Concertgoers occupy the scattered tables, taking smoke breaks and meeting up with friends.
15 minutes or so pass during our quick venture into the outside world before we hear a thundering applause, signaling that the second opener, Big Boy, has made an appearance. Returning to Heaven, we move to the second level of the venue, still recovering from a day of classes and feeling appreciative of the carpeted floor. Big Boy has a classic hardcore punk sound, but looking down at the crowd below, I’m disappointed to see that their energy doesn’t quite match what the music evokes. I’m not too surprised, considering the fact that it’s a Wednesday night, and even I opted to detach myself from the action below.
After Big Boy and another brief interlude, Momma’s set goes by in a partial blur for me. Of the three openers, their music is by far the most pedal-driven and atmospheric, so it’s not surprising that I catch myself zoning out every now and then. I have to remind myself that I’m here to write a review rather than just enjoy the vibes. The vocalist of Momma announces their final two songs and asks if the audience is ready for Basement, which immediately grabs my attention. After being pleasantly surprised by each opener, I had completely forgotten that we had yet to even see the headliner.
By now, the venue has garnered a substantial crowd. When the members of Basement make their first appearances, a previously mellow crowd is unrecognizable. Vocalist Andrew Fisher sports a graphic tee featuring the cover Monster by R.E.M., which I choose to interpret as an appreciative nod to the state they’re playing in tonight rather than a coincidence. Between R.E.M. and the Smashing Pumpkins, I can’t help but appreciate the band’s taste in 90s alternative.
“Time Waster” is a recent release from Wired and the first song of the night, and shockingly soon after the opening riff reverberates through the venue, security is on high alert to catch crowdsurfers. A few tracks later, when Fisher sings the first lyrics of “Covet,” a fan-favorite from the band’s 2012 release Covermeinkindness, his vocals are quickly lost in the collective voice of the audience.
In the seven years since last playing the Masquerade, Basement has evolved from a blend of emo, grunge, and post-hardcore into a more textured, effects-driven sound. Considering the significant gap between Wired and the band’s prior release, I wondered if their stage presence would meet the expectations I had as a long-time fan. How would the audience react to new songs in comparison to classics like “Covet”? Throughout the night, neither the band’s nor the crowd’s energy falters. A few feet away from me, I catch occasional glimpses of a pair of friends detached from the rest of the second-floor audience. They sing emphatically to one another and dance to every song. I wonder if they’ve seen the band before, or if this is a moment they’ve hoped to experience for years.
There’s not much dialogue between songs, but Fisher takes multiple opportunities to thank everyone for coming out after so many years. Leaving the Masquerade that night with newly acquired merch in hand, I can attest that the wait was worth it.
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