A Call Home: Three Days at Boston Calling 2022
Metalheads, ravers, and once-retired scene kids alike flocked to Allston this Memorial Day weekend for the Boston Calling Music Festival, which made its highly-anticipated return following a two-year hiatus. Walking to the festival grounds, people quite literally bounced as they trotted with a sense of pent-up determination and adrenaline, donning their finest band tees and Boston sports merch. It felt like we were heading towards some sort of rock ‘n’ roll pilgrimage — and thankfully, the trip (for the most part) earned its title as a triumph. Aside from the impending artist cancellations and a day sidetracked by rainstorms, Boston Calling made a rather victorious return in the face of unpredictability. And besides, is it really a music festival if you don’t spend at least one day walking around in a giant rain poncho?
Day One brimmed with an innocent yet genuine sense of enthusiasm. Being my first festival in almost three years, I’d almost forgotten what it was like to wander around under the intense heat for roughly ten hours in crowds of thousands of people — but I looked forward to it nonetheless. The festival kicked off to a great start with the first act I came across, Pom Pom Squad. The indie-rock group from Brooklyn, New York, projected their dream-pop sound with a signature rock flair that brought the crowd to life, even in near-90-degree heat. Ringleader Mia Berrin is a true rockstar in the making. Under her guidance, the band harnesses a set aesthetic in correlation with their debut album, Death of a Cheerleader, complete with Berrin’s gothic cheer ensemble and electrifying vocals (with the occasional scream) that would make Kim Gordon proud. Pom Pom Squad is definitely a band to keep your eye on, as they reclaim new wave grunge with a feminine edge.
[From left to right] Tim Gillis, Linda Pardee and Ron Belanger of The Chelsea Curve sit side by side on a brown couch. Photo courtesy of The Chelsea Curve
Boston locals The Chelsea Curve debuted Boston Calling’s new Tivoli Audio Orange Stage, the fourth stage dedicated to showcasing New England artists. Composed of frontwoman and bassist Linda Pardee, guitarist Tim Gillis, and drummer Ron Belanger, the trio brought a nostalgic mod rock resurgence to the festival. Considering the artistry of The Chelsea Curve only goes back a year, they drew in quite a large crowd, all of whom looked more than eager to further the hype the group has garnered for themselves. They are obviously true music fans at their core, their music reflecting a blended homage to britpop, punk, and indie rock that bears a striking resemblance to the likes of The Clash or Elastica. Their sound was also slightly reminiscent of ska (as controversial as this comparison may be to some), particularly with the song “Nuthin’ Goin’ On.” Somewhat synonymous with the ranks of an early No Doubt tune, The Chelsea Curve successfully made their crowd dance, and were the perfect introduction to the Boston rock scene that the festival had to offer.
After wandering the festival grounds for a bit, my brother and I eagerly raced to the Delta Airlines Blue Stage to get as close as possible to the pop punk princess herself, Miss Avril Lavigne. I cannot emphasize enough the sheer excitement I felt at the prospect of seeing Lavigne live; after all, her music soundtracked my childhood and my younger self worked tirelessly to emulate her girly-punk look for years. Much to my equal surprise and joy, the Avril Lavigne stans delivered. The crowd was packed with fans new and old, from millennials wearing vintage Avril Lavigne tour t-shirts to children hoisted on their parents shoulders. Opening with her comeback single “Bite Me,” Lavigne proved that the pop punk resurgence is here to stay — and she’s reclaiming her spot as the frontrunner of the genre. Following up with hits “What The Hell” and “Complicated,” both she and the crowd returned to their teenage angst roots and belted the lyrics with all of the passion they could muster. Screaming the age-old question, “Why’d you have to go and make things so complicated?” truly never gets old.
The night ended with the one and only, Nine Inch Nails. The band was a last-minute inclusion into the festival’s lineup, in place of the Foo Fighters after the untimely death of their beloved drummer Taylor Hawkins and subsequently their cancellation of all impending performances. As disheartening as it felt to not be able to see the Foo Fighters live once again, I could not have asked for a better replacement than Nine Inch Nails (NIN). I’d fallen in love with Trent Reznor’s music when I was a kid (thank you, mom and dad!), making the duality of heartfelt emotion and forceful energy that NIN’s music produces resonate deeper and harder over the years. Needless to say, seeing them live was a surreal experience from the start. And the strangest part was, fans got to see them twice in a row.
At the very last minute, Saturday’s original headliners, The Strokes, dropped out of the festival after a positive COVID case in the band. All Strokes fans’ hearts broke (my own included), but the emotional damage largely repaired itself when the announcement that Nine Inch Nails would take the band’s place with a second performance hit our ears. I must say that despite missing the chance to see The Strokes live for a third time (my own personal grudge with the band, but I digress), the prospect of seeing Trent Reznor perform again presented a bizarre but welcomed scenario — and the band most certainly did not disappoint. Night 1’s setlist showcased the ideal embodiment of Nine Inch Nails’ discography. Classics like “March of the Pigs” had my brother and I forming our own tiny mosh pits on the lawn across from the stage, while the beloved “Closer” and “Head Like a Hole” transported us back in time with a sense of gratifying indulgence. Non-mainstream tracks like “Piggy” and “Gave Up” were a sly nod to NIN fans within the large crowd.
Night 2, however, solidified my perception of NIN as one of the greatest live bands I have seen to-date. Determined to get as close to the stage as possible, we managed to wade our way into the fifth row of the crowd — and for that, I am the most grateful for and proud of my stubbornness. The band opened with “Mr. Self Destruct,” a biting, angrily-charged, definitive NIN track. An eclectic mix of deep cuts followed, including a number of songs from their 1999 album The Fragile, a cover of David Bowie’s “Fashion,” and some personal favorites, “Sin,” “Terrible Lie,” and “Me, I’m Not.” Reznor even poked fun at the band’s double headlining gig, stating, “If you’d told me at any point that we are the ‘reliable’ band to be called in a crisis, I’d have told you you were out of your fucking mind… So, if anybody has a birthday party or a bar mitzvah, or if you need somebody to look after the plants on vacation, look us up.” Reznor & Co. frankly served as the backbone of Boston Calling 2022, and thank the rock ‘n’ roll gods for that.
Day Two of the festival unfortunately made the fears of every festival-goer a reality. After The Strokes’ abrupt exit from the lineup the night before, fans who eagerly bought tickets to see them were left disappointed. With my luck, Australian rock band King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard (one of my most anticipated performances of the weekend) also fell victim to a positive COVID case in the group and unexpectedly dropped out. Surveying the crowd and sensing the amount of fans present based on the obvious displays of morose defeat made the loss of them in the lineup all the more detering. And of course, the unpredictable weather produced a rainstorm two hours into the festival; forced evacuation of the premises left fans frantically seeking shelter in Harvard Square or in the Harvard Athletic Complex stadium located just outside the festival entrance. While walking around in overbearing ponchos was not the most enjoyable of experiences, the communal chanting of “Let’s go Celtics!” and a delirious rendition of “Sweet Caroline” made the endurance of the weather worthwhile.
After re-entering the festival about two hours later, lineup changes were soon announced, with many artists unfortunately subject to set cancellations due to time constraints. However, including NIN’s second headlining set, the acts that made the show go on surely lifted the spirits of those who needed it. Orville Peck emerged on the Blue Stage clad in his signature fringe face mask and an embroidered vest-and-denim jeans set that I was admittedly envious of. His band wore similar denim outfits, reinforcing the “Orville Peck brand.” My initial thought of Peck’s performance was, “He made country music cool.” His vocals awaken modern memories of an Elvis Presley-type drawl, and at times proved almost operatic in their delivery. His duet with guitarist Bria Salmena on “Legends Never Die” (originally recorded with Shania Twain) easily established itself as a standout moment of his set: together she and Peck made the old-school country duet their own, Salmena’s voice striking against his.
In a complete 180 from Saturday, Day Three met us with insane heat and a crowd unlike any I observed at a festival prior. This was, of course, a result of the Metallica fans congregating to see the metal icons in the flesh: a sea of young teenagers and old-timer metalheads came together in masses. A number of performances prior to Metallica’s set assuredly made up for what Saturday lacked. Rapper Oompa opened the festival, and joyously so. A Boston-born rapper, poet, and educator, Oompa brought soul and good vibes to the festival that so desperately needed it. Complete with backup singers and dancers, her set equal parts witty and thoughtful. Most of all, she was fun. Her and her entourage’s energy felt infectious, her raps and instrumentals expertly crafted. Oompa’s love for Boston and its people existed apparently, making the most out of her half-hour set that sparked overwhelming cheers from the audience as she left.
After Oompa’s set, the vibe shifted and the crowd entered an indie rock time portal. Modest Mouse took the same stage and performed a hits-filled set, much to the delight of the audience. I finally heard the quintessential bop “Float On” live — it brought a new vitality to the crowd that resulted in a lighthearted, hopeful tone lasting for the rest of the evening. “Dashboard” was my favorite moment of Modest Mouse’s entire set: the dance-y tune surged the audience and even produced a mosh pit, bringing me back to the wistfulness of early 2000s indie rock once again. Continuing with the alternative trend brought out none other than Weezer, one of my dearest guilty pleasure bands. There is just something about Rivers Cuomo’s goofy, nerdy rocker energy that I find hilariously intriguing, and Weezer has yet to disappoint me. Their set at Boston Calling solidified itself as one of the highlights, partly because of the crowd. Weezer fans spanning generations gathered with a mission to make their set the most chaotic one yet, and they definitely succeeded. Between opening with “Hash Pipe” (my Weezer song of choice), to covering Nirvana’s “Lithium” alongside their beloved rendition of Africa’s “Toto,” to their stage visuals (and Cuomo’s mullet) bringing back ’80s nostalgia, there is no denying that Weezer is simply a good time. Trust me, there is nothing like witnessing a mosh pit to “Say It Ain’t So,” especially when that mosh pit went harder than anything I witnessed at Metallica.
As alluded to earlier, Metallica fans showed up for the final set of Boston Calling. Dedicated fans even traveled from as far as South America, proudly displaying their country’s flags on the barricade decorated with Metallica photographs and symbols. As someone who has frequented metal concerts since her first-ever show, I am still constantly surprised by the commitment that metal fans possess, and Metallica’s fans were no different. The audience chanted each lyric and imitated every guitar riff, these innocent yet reverent demonstrations alone proving the band’s stature as one of metal’s most celebrated acts. Seeing Lars Ulrich’s drumming in action seemed unreal, together with Kirk Hammett’s unbeatable guitar technique. Leader James Hetfield still managed to harness his electrifying vocals with precision and charm, and even forty-one years later, the band as a collective is wildly meticulous in their live performances.
Beginning their set with “Whiplash” stimulated a thrilling introduction to Metallica as a live act. The signature fast-paced guitar riffs compelled every audience member to thrash around in unison, and this continued for their entire two hour-long set. Already established as expert performers, the band interacted with the audience the whole time, with Hetfield even alternating between microphones at each corner of the stage, and the fans ravenously ate up every second of these rare moments of connection. With their setlists including classics such as “Seek and Destroy” and “For Whom the Bell Tolls,” alongside the customary ”Master of Puppets” and closing with “Enter Sandman,” Metallica delivered an unwavering intensity that was almost cathartic to witness. As children sat on their parents’ shoulders (headphones on, of course) and teenagers crowd surfed with the help of their elder metalheads, Boston Calling came to an idyllic close with a sense of unifying vigor among the crowd.