We’re Your Favorite Band from High School and We’re Really, Really Old Now

Hey, man! It’s us: your favorite band from high school! (Or, according to your 10th grade diary, the “only people who understand your soul.”) We’re stoked you bought tickets to our show tonight. We may be really, really old now, but rest assured, we still rock as hard as ever.

 

It’s been a while. The last time you saw us was at Warped Tour. What was that, twenty years ago? It cost $25 and nobody cared that you snuck in a fifth of Jaeger from your dad’s liquor cabinet. Tonight’s concert is basically the same, except that you had to tap into your 401K to afford tickets and drinks are so expensive that you have to choose between slamming a single Coors Light or paying for your daughter’s summer camp.

 

You wanna know what’s on the setlist? We’ll definitely play that new song we just put out. You know, the one you listened to halfway through on Spotify and it made you feel sad in a way you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

 

But we’re gonna lean hard on our classics. We may be multi-millionaires, and our drummer Brett may have his first grandbaby on the way, but that doesn’t mean our songs about being deadass broke and trying to sleep with college-age girls are any less relevant. We’ll never change.

 

Well, except for our original bassist. He took his residuals from our most popular song—that one you never want your daughter to hear because it’s so sexist—and bought a ranch in Montana where he brews artisanal non-alcoholic beer. What an absolute poser. (But, to be fair, Brett can only drink non-alcoholic beer because he’s on Lipitor.)

 

Awww shit! Here we come! Look at all of the crazy pyrotechnics we sprung for! It’s almost enough to distract you from the fact that we’re all balding and Brett is wearing compression socks. But hey, our lead singer Brenden is still rocking a studded belt, even if it’s a little snug around his beer gut.

 

We’re opening with our hit about getting stoned and shredding a halfpipe. Even though he hasn’t been able to skateboard since his knee replacement, Brett is actually a little stoned right now from his THC-infused arthritis cream. Then we’re going to play that new song. Honestly, it’s pretty rude of you to use that as an opportunity to text the baby-sitter and grab a $20 slice of pizza.

 

This next one is your favorite. As a teenager, you connected on a spiritual level with this song about stealing a Honda Civic and running away with a drunk cheerleader you just met. It’s just too bad you chickened out before you got a tattoo of these inane, cringey lyrics on your bicep.

 

C’mon, help us sing the chorus! We’ll never confirm if this is planned crowd participation or if we forgot the words. And yes, fine, Brenden’s voice isn’t what it used to be. That’s what a lifetime of smoking, drinking, and scream-singing will do.

 

Hey, do you still have that poster where the whole band is bare-chested in a graffiti-covered alley smoking cigarettes? You bought that thing at Sam Goody for one-tenth of what your second beer just cost and had it on your wall until your college girlfriend said it made her “uncomfortable.”

 

Of course, now you’re praying our shirts stay on. Too late! Brenden just whipped off his tank top, revealing his poorly-aged tribal tattoos, saggy nipple rings, and the sick scar from his bypass surgery.

 

This is fucking dope, being together again. Your superabundance of nostalgia perfectly complements our undying punk rock spirit, not to mention the hundreds of thousands of dollars in back taxes we owe that will be paid for by the tour revenue. We’re so thankful for our fans, but especially for all you aging millennials and Gen-Xers with disposable income. This song goes out to you. It’s our obligatory slow ballad, the one you hoped you’d lose your virginity to on prom night, but instead listened to on repeat while you wrote poems at McDonalds because you couldn’t find a prom date. We hope tonight has been as special as that night was.

 

That being said, we’ll understand if you have to leave before the encore. We’ll be phoning it in by then since Brett gets cranky when he doesn’t get to bed by 9:30. Arena parking is a nightmare, you have to work early tomorrow, and we’re sure your heartburn is flaring up from that overpriced pizza.

 

After all, you’re really, really old now too.