I’ve never witnessed such intense fandom, before or since.Still, the resolutely black-clad supporters seemed skeptical of their beloved band’s slow progression into the light.2010’s was, to my ears, a glorious glitter-bomb of panic and disco, effortlessly mixing Detroit boogie with Weimar cabaret, summertime pop radio with Euroclub stomp.Gerard’s hair was a vibrant red — more Kool-Aid Man than arterial blood — and his new stage style was loose and breezy.He flashed and strutted, naturally assuming the role of dangerous front man whether he had a mic in his hand or not.Gerard — a scared and sensitive wannabe comic-book artist who formed a band out of either depression or desperation in the wake of 9/11 — wore a leather jacket like a suit of armor.(Gerard later told me that bender was the inspiration for a song called “You Know What They Do to Guys Like Us in Prison,” which featured the lyric “do you have the keys to the hotel?
He says, "I think that Kate's death had a huge impact on the way the record turned out.
How could they when they so clearly weren’t “o-fucking-kay”?
They were misfits and dungeon masters, drama nerds and otakus.
“They’re ready for heroes, for something to believe in.” Parts of the world were, anyway.
The ravenous MCRmy spanned the globe, from Mexico City to Manila, a polyglot, multilingual militia that took solace in the band’s underdog triumphalism — and sometimes even took to the streets.
Regardless of how I wanted to put things down, they just came.