Awkwardly, I went to this concert alone. 

As soon as you can, you hop onto Legacy Highway and drive into the sunset, West, and West some more, and then a little more West as the Great Salt Lake comes into view with sunflowers growing atop white sandy beaches that stretch along the horizon and historic coastline sketches from yesteryear weave in and out along the way to display a fisherman here, a pair of lovers admiring the view there, and then a palace from Aladdin, complete with four mustard-colored dole whip twirls on each rooftop corner, springs up from the desert like a Sultan in the sand: The Great Saltair. 

And on Sept. 23, The Great Saltair was a palace hosting a concert from my yesteryears as Motion City Soundtrack and New Found Glory opened for The All-American Rejects.

Thinking of my glory days, these bands were hitting 20-year milestones, just like Fall Out Boy. I Am The Movie by Motion City Soundtrack came out in 2003, but I didn’t really fall for them until a few years later. However, Sticks and Stones for NFG was released in 2002, as did All-American Rejects debut their self-titled album that year, both of which were burned CDs in my collection as I walked the halls of North Ogden Junior High that school year. 

The whole point of music is to think of others, to unify and bond. For me, music makes me think of people and those good times as a sprouting teenager. With Motion City Soundtrack, I instantly think of DK, a guy who was crazy, crazy fun, and could make you crazy laugh at any time since all you did together were crazy things. 

With DK, we visited Flo in Ogden’s cemetery with more people than seatbelts in his cute yellow mini-cooper. I remember he had a chinchilla; for unknown reasons, he had a chinchilla. I remember one night, it was just the two of us, and we got some Chinese food from 12th Street, then drove around the rest of the evening calling everyone in our book, and I mean everyone in our phone book, to sing them the Barbie girl song that we had mastered lyrically and in interpretative dance. 

But I also remember he loved Motion City and we went to Warped Tour together to be with them live as often as we could. Along the way, we made up the term “Sucking the Carb” – after finishing a Coca-Cola in a bottle, you’d squeeze out the carbonation air and suck it in quick and deep. We swear were inhaling something of significance. 

Probably why DK liked Motion City so much was because they were so thoughtful and poetic in their songwriting. He, too, could be that way. On those drives in the mini-coop going nowhere, I had some of the deepest conversations you could have as a teenage boy, all while with another teenage boy. When we were both on our LDS missions, I remember emailing him, and some of the most moving notes to build me up and help me remember purpose came from him. He had a way with words, allowing them to sink in and simmer into something more than what appeared on the surface.  

Perhaps the whole point of music is also to think of yourself, letting the tune and tone turn toward yourself as a personal checkpoint on who you are, what you are, how you are. 

What DK and I didn’t know then, but has resonated since is that Motion City was all about mental health. Using their words and metaphors to look inward on the constant challenges that spill into our brains, these songs told stories to the voices inside our heads that we both had, but never fully acknowledged yet. 

While the Rejects were the headlining show, it was Motion City that I was looking forward to the most leading up to this concert. They were a party, but they also inspired hope. 

The lead singer of Motion is Justin Pierre, a gentle face with glasses and the best wild hair in the business.

Over the years, he has had a good share of lumps with a big one falling in his bathtub, suffering a concussion, and breaking his back. This accident happened in March, but he had to wait until July to get surgery on his spine, bedridden in between and afterward while taking all the drugs. Then the pandemic hit, he was isolated, and couldn’t do his passion project in the form of music and people, and a spiral was inevitable. 

The back problems persist – he had to tell the crowd this as to why he wasn’t as animated or playing the guitar – but the biggest lumps he has faced are all mental health challenges, some going so far as to hospitalize Pierre into psychotic wards for periods of time. 

Knowing that, is it surprising that his lyrics would be more than silly hooks and catchy rhymes, but have something threading underneath to share the hidden secrets we all hide? 

Take Commit This To Memory, the album that put them on the map, and the messages it holds. Released in 2005, each song was carefully crafted under Mark Hoppus’ care in the course of six weeks. Born in the age of pop-punk, Commit This To Memory served as the elder brother with lessons to be learned, while mosh pitting and head bobbing. Yes, musically the songs are set to upbeat anthems of sugar, spice, and everything nice, but lyrically the songs are playing hide and seek in a fortress of self-deprecation to hit on heavy themes. 

Consider: Attractive Today is about fitting in, Make Out Kids about insecurities Everything Is Alright is about having OCD and seeing a psychiatrist, LGFUAD is about the lows of depression, and Together We Will Ring In The New Year is about social anxiety. Hold Me Down covers breaking up and broken hearts and Better Open the Door is focused on alcoholism. 

Speaking of this at Saltair, Pierre said that at the beginning of their careers, fans were listening to the lyrics and seeing crumbs that it was about mental health. Continuing, he added that if they didn’t have fans telling them about mental health and what was wrong with them or how their songs have helped with this struggle or that, he said he wouldn’t have known what was wrong with him. So, he said, be f**king kind – to yourself and others because we’re all going through something. 

Knowing this simple truth, Motion City Soundtrack turned its modern-day music into a coping mechanism for those struggling with mental health. They write lyrics that explore the dark places, yet do so with precision and humor. As one article put it, “By underscoring that honesty with synths and power chords, Motion City made feeling weird not just relatable, but something to dance to.” Another article used words I could wish were my own, saying, “Humour and sarcasm have long been used as coping mechanisms when it comes to mental illness. Healthy or not, shielding yourself with these methods can help create a wall around you when admitting certain truths is something too painful to do with a straight face. In many ways, Motion City Soundtrack is a testament to these coping mechanisms.” 

To follow, New Found Glory next took the stage where I expected cover songs and mosh pits. That happened and it was oh. so. epic., but band member and lead guitarist Chad Gilbert also took a minute to pause. While doing so, he revealed he was still fighting an adrenal gland cancer, that was discovered while in Salt Lake City just a year previous while on tour, but that it had spread to his liver, had been declared cancer-free, and then more crap popped up to add to his health woes as the cancerous curse would spread and require more chemotherapy. 

That hit me in the gut as the spidey senses of my emotions crawled on my skin and caused the hair on my arms to prickle. 

A guy I rocked to and was currently rocking with had such an intense personal struggle. Yet, he was being candid, open, and honest while providing humor to humanize the experience. He revealed he had gone through chemotherapy on Monday (our concert was on Saturday night), and would get tired throughout the set. They had a backup guitarist to help out and Gilbert had a throne brought on stage so he could sit and still enjoy the experience with his boys and all the fans. I’m like an iPod, he told us, I just need to go into the docking station for a bit to recharge. 

Telling his story now, he was thankful for Utah doctors who knew something was wrong and encouraged him to fly home immediately to get better care. As he put in his own words following this rush, Gilbert said, “I was having really intense bad back pain on tour, which can happen from jumping around carrying a heavy guitar. I flew home early for an MRI. Unfortunately, we found a new Pheochromocytoma tumor in the 12th vertebrae of my spine pinching on my nerve badly.” As he embarked on the Wet Hot American Tour with All-American Rejects at the start of the summer, he posted a picture of himself at the doctor with a caption to pump you up. “Ayyyeee! Back at it getting chemo! Today and tomorrow! Got a great update today! My CT scan yesterday showed that we killed off more cancer in my lungs and more shrunk!” he started in the caption. Then, he added, “So when I leave next week for tour I’ll be leaving with great news and filled with more meds killing more while I’ll be rocking your faces on stage!” 

Having played music for two decades as a career, being on an anniversary tour with his best friends when the struggles began, and now being limited in the talent you are known for, that would be deflating and devastating. Add in the rarity of the diagnosis, with the unknowns its challenges would bring, it would be easy to give in, give up. Yet, Gilbert remained positive. 

Speaking to the crowd at The Great Saltair as the band’s set was to wrap up, Gilbert took another minute to slow down the ruckus and pause. This time, he said he wanted to share a heartfelt message. Be better to yourself, he said, because there is no guarantee of tomorrow or the next moment. All the things you are worried about, he added, for tomorrow, just let them go. Life can be more special if you do so, so don’t waste the moments that might not happen to you. Ending, he said again to be nice to yourself and tomorrow will take care of itself. 

When you are in the dark pits, you feel alone. Completely alone. No one knows how you feel, or could understand the depth of how you feel, or could imagine the way you feel. You close the door and turn everyone off. Most of the time, we don’t turn everything off as we plug in the headphones, close our eyes, and let the music reverberate around the skull. When you’ve abandoned everyone, along with all hope, you still let music in. 

Sometimes, it can be all that you need. Sometimes, it can be all that will work.

And that can be so powerful.