The Shout Out Louds
have been my favorite band for as long as I've truly had an opinion about music. I've always enjoyed music but when I was around 13 I heard their song "Impossible" from their second album Our Ill Wills
for the first time. My dad played it very loudly on a Saturday morning much to the dismay of my teenage self whose only true desire was to sleep until 1pm. At first I didn't like it for the sole reason that my dad was playing it and at six and a half minutes, the song seemed much too long. However, I grew to love it due to my teenage disenchantment with popular music of 2007 because of its associations with awkward interactions with the opposite sex at school dances.
So "Impossible" and the door it opened to the rest of the Shout Out Louds' music became my music since I was free to associated it with whatever I wanted. It was a song that became my song, my anthem. At 13 years old, I definitely did not understand that it was a song about heartbreak, but I loved the way it made me feel. Despite the fact that the lyrics are about a forgotten love, the song made me feel excited for an unknown future. I also listened to it because my pubescent self felt the need to blast it and cry about my plethora of feelings. I'd never experienced a song that could make me happy and sad at the same time, which was a strange phenomenon to my younger self. A decade later and I still listen to that song relentlessly, but now I understand the beauty of bittersweet things.
As I've grown into an adult, my relationship with that song has also changed. When I was a teen I listened to it as I was about to start at a new high school because I was scared and sad. Then at 19 years old, I had my heart broken and the song's lyrics about heartbreak and a lost love made sense. Even after that, the older I get the more the song makes sense in different situations life has thrown at me. It was my go to song when I was nervous about going to college, living in a remote Alaskan town, lonely when solo traveling, moving to my first apartment, or having feelings about how my 20's sort of feel like a dumpster fire sometimes. I've had a deeply personal and intimate relationship with a song for a decade that I don't like to share with other people, let alone a whole audience of other concert goers who might have been less obsessed.
So needless to say I was nervous to see the Shout Out Louds live at Music Hall of Williamsburg. I had been desperately wanting to see them for a decade -- there was a decade of hype in my mind over the Shout Out Louds. Thankfully the band did not disappoint and as cheesy as it sounds, it was one of the most amazing concerts I've been to.
They played all their best songs with an energy of a band that clearly loves the music. I will admit that I did not pay much attention to the other audience members because I was so wrapped up in watching Adam Olenius, the lead singer, charm everyone while Carl von Arbin, the guitarist, oozed Scandinavian coolness while Bebban Stenborg played the accordion and keyboards. The band was kept in perfect time by their drummer Eric Edman and Ted Malmros, the bassist, provided support vocals that were far superior to my singing along.
I knew every word to every song and stood right in front and mildly fan girl'd when Adam jumped off the stage during "Tonight I Have to Leave It", because how can you sing about giving love if you don't jump into the crowd and give them some love? They played a ton of songs off of their debut album, Howl Howl Gaff Gaff,
which invoked a sense of nostalgia and happiness. Songs like "Paola" and "Porcelain" off their latest album invoked the bittersweet melancholy of their second album, with synthy beats and heavy guitars.
And don't worry, they ended the set with "Impossible," which could not have been more perfect.
Now Watch The Nostalgia: