Soccer Mommy Live at The Fonda
Photo by Alexis Attard
If there’s one emotion that this pandemic reawakened in me, it was teen angst. I have never felt more cheated by the world. I have never felt more scared for the future. I have never felt more alone. All of the passive-aggressive overly-anxious crap you’re supposed to go through in your high school years, I am going through smack-dab in the middle of college. I’d been feeling awkward, depressed, and lost for many months now… but Soccer Mommy has come to my rescue…. with their album, Color Theory.
Color Theory has all of the rock-and-roll angst that has been bubbling up within me for months - with all of the introspective reflections on depression and isolation that I have so desperately tried to suppress. Soccer Mommy made me feel seen in a time when I felt completely alone. Sophia Regina Allison’s, a.k.a. Soccer Mommy, music returned me to the euphoric sense of togetherness and catharsis usually only capable of live music. For over 18 months, I would listen to Color Theory as a form of escapism - transporting myself to the time when I would finally get to be in a room full of people to experience Soccer Mommy’s music live.
On October 28, this escapist fever-dream finally broke when Soccer Mommy took the stage at The Fonda Theatre in Los Angeles. The roar of the crowd was palpable, triggered by Soccer Mommy’s opening guitar riff. I swear the theatre vibrated with excitement.
When Sophia Regina Allison began to strum the opening chords to her song “Bloodstream,” I noticed a mysterious, bewitching quality about her. Her voice was as pure and alluring as a siren’s. I felt completely enchanted by her musical spellwork, feeling myself being pulled closer and closer to the stage with each note that left her lips. The chorus guitar chords that floated from her glitter-pink Fender Strat washed over me like a sparkling sea, creating an alluring tide of its own. She was even attired in a black dress that resembled one that a cartoon witch might wear. I was captivated from the get-go, completely and totally spell-bound.
After drawing us in with the mystically alluring lines of “Bloodstream,” Allison immediately enraptured us all with her second song, sealing the deal with her hit track - and my personal favorite song of hers “Circle The Drain.” The second she started to play the guitar riff, the audience erupted in screams. You could feel the weight lift off of everyone’s shoulders as we all began to sway in unison, all of us singing together, “Things feel so low sometimes even when everything is fine...” We felt and understood each other’s struggles. We were all finally healing together.
The energy grew and grew as Soccer Mommy continued with “royal screw up,” “Last Girl,” and “Henry.” I was expecting her soft, perfect vocals to be the star of the night. But nothing could have prepared me for how hard Soccer Mommy could SHRED that guitar. By the end of the night, my neck was searing with pain from headbanging so hard. Allison’s solos were fluid and heart-wrenching, the wail of the guitar piercing straight through my soul with violence. The distortion shook the building with the force of an earthquake.
The softer moments were just as powerful though. After the song “Lucy,” the drummer and bassist exited the stage, leaving Allison and the two other guitarists alone near center stage. Together they played the more somber, melancholic songs. I felt the cool water wash over me in “night swimming,” I felt the agony in “Still Clean.” I felt the cut of slowdive’s “Dagger” in her haunting cover of the track.
Between songs, while crew members were running in and out to do a guitar switch, Allison would occasionally chat with the audience. She wouldn’t just announce things or make a random joke, she conversed with us. When people shouted out suggestions, she responded. When we said we loved her, she said she loved us back. There was no hierarchical divide between artist and audience. We were a community.
Soccer Mommy ended the night in a blaze of glory with her epic love song “yellow is the color of her eyes” followed by the nostalgic, familiar tracks of “Your Dog” and “Scorpio Rising.” All of us, old fans and new ones alike, held each other, danced with each other, and celebrated with each other. My cheeks felt genuinely sore by the last chord of “Scorpio Rising” from my excessive smiling. It was the happy pain of true euphoria.
The house lights slowly faded back on as the music slowly faded into silence. A cacophony of voices began to rise as people began searching for their friends, exchanging words of excitement and laughter, and planning their next move. The theatre became a tumultuous sea of people pushing towards both the exit and the merch booth. I quickly found myself in what seemed to be the eye of the storm, the only place of stillness and quiet in the place. With me was this British couple who seemed to be in their mid-20s. The girl was scrolling through her phone attempting to hail an Uber. The guy, however, was still looking up at the stage with what appeared to be starlight in his eyes.
“This is surreal,” he whispered. “This is too surreal.”
This caused the girl to look up from her phone and gaze into her boyfriend’s starry eyes, the twinkle of a smile glimmering in her eyes. The boy finally looked down at her and they embraced. This is the power of live music. This is the togetherness that for the last 18 months I craved. And it was finally here.