Panic At The Emo
So we built one. Two DJs up on the stage screaming every word back at you, and a room full of people who never let it go either.
Find your nightForty seconds on your phone · 18 plus · you see the fee before you pay it
DownloadPlayed the festivalPackedRooms all over the UKSince2019
Soonest first. Find yours, and stop reading.
Because here is the thing nobody says out loud: you will mean to come to the next one. And then it will be a year later and you still will not have been.
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Not a club night. Four hours where you get to be seventeen again, with better money and no one to answer to.

You walk in and somebody puts a free emo gift in your hand. By the third song you have stopped pretending. Somewhere around midnight a pit opens for Misery Business and you are in it, grinning like an idiot, forty years old and absolutely fine about it.
Then those piano notes land for Black Parade, the whole room goes up at once, and for four minutes nobody in that building has a job, a mortgage or a single thing to be embarrassed about.

You get home with no voice, a photo strip in your coat, and the best hangover you have had in years. That is the bit you are paying for. The songs are free.
Be honest. You still put this stuff on in the car with the windows up, like it is something you are getting away with.
Then you walk into a room full of people doing exactly the same thing, and something in your chest goes quiet. You are not the last one. You never were.
Thousands of tickets and countless incredible nights over the past 7 years, all across the UK and even Europe. One of our nights had You Me At Six's frontman up on the mic, losing his voice with everybody else.
Some of the rooms we have sold out

Thank you for the 3am birthday song. That was a nice ending to the show.Sent to the DJs the morning after Derby
“I'm too old for this.”
Every single person in that room got told to grow out of it, and every single one of them is about to spend four hours proving they did not. Nobody is checking your birth certificate. They are checking whether you know the second verse.
“Is it just some bloke playing songs?”
Not tucked away in a booth pretending to be busy. Up where you can see them, going hoarse right alongside you and throwing merch into the crowd. You have been to the other kind. This is not that.
“I'd have nobody to go with.”
Loads turn up on their own, every single night. By the second song you are arm in arm with a stranger screaming Helena at the ceiling. This is the easiest room in the country to walk into alone.
You already thought of someone. The one who would properly get it, who has not been out in two years, who still knows every word to Sugar We're Going Down.
Send it to them. Because on Sunday somebody is going to post a video of that room going up for Black Parade, and you want to be in it, not scrolling past it.

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