McMenamin's Crystal Ballroom
5/20/2026
Last year, it seemed like American Football had entered the nostalgia-bait phase of their career. Though the seminal Midwest Emo band had come back from the dead and released two rock-solid albums — the pretty-good comeback LP2 and the career-best LP3 — at Revolution Hall, they opted to lean into the nostalgia of their groundbreaking self-titled debut with their beloved anniversary tour. The iconic Urbana-Champaign house that adorned the cover of LP1 loomed on the screen behind them as they played through the album, plus a sampler platter of reunion-era songs. Then, out of nowhere, they returned from the brink with LP4, an album just as good as their most revered works. Even to a longtime fan, it's surprising they still had an album like that in them.
It's unfortunate and surprising that the people of Portland didn't know, or care, that American Football had just put out yet another vital record. While both LP1 anniversary shows at Revolution Hall last year sold out well in advance, their Crystal Ballroom performance was only half-sold. It's unsurprising that the gravitational pull of the twinkly guitars and horns of LP1 remains inescapable in 2026, but evidently that pull is not enough to bring the millennial emos of Portland out of their houses on a gorgeous Wednesday night.
Those that turned up weren't exactly respectful, either; they could be heard cheering excitedly, but they were only noticeably engaged when the band reached the quartet of “Honestly?,†“Stay Home,†The One With the Wurlitzer†and “Never Meant.†After they came back from their encore break, a group of men could be heard chanting “TEN MORE SONGS†while they were actively playing the muted “The One With the Piano†and LP4 standout “Patron Saint of Pale.†As they played the new record's best song, “Bad Moons,†the crowd could be heard chatting drunkenly for most of it, Mike Kinsella's glum voice drowned out only by the song's blissfully loud conclusion. Even at 35-years-old, a wave of “kids these days†frustration felt inescapable. Then again, maybe that's just American Football fans — in Salt Lake City, at their Kilby Block Party set, a cameo by Hayley Williams to sing her part on LP3's “Uncomfortably Numb†wasn't enough to convince teens to quick yakking for a few minutes.
Even more confusing is that, despite being substantially more laid-back than American Football, opener Mei Semones was able to get people to listen intently for a change. On paper, this bill pairing makes no sense; the 26-year-old jazz-pop guitarist is completely removed from the music American Football are making. As her set progressed, though, it was easy to see Semones and her band not as a direct descendant of American Football, but a semi-distant relative, inspired by bands who were inspired by other bands who were inspired by the guitar textures of LP1. At the barricade, the young crowd watched Semones intently, bobbing along with her breezy, Japanese-American songwriting and honeyed vocals. Even those who might have been unswayed by Semones were likely pulled in by her backing band, which included two violinists, beautifully working together to elevate her airy compositions at every turn.
Semones was a great enough opener that it forced American Football to bring their A-game. Last year, the band sounded great, but there was a sense that it was only happening because it was a guaranteed paycheck. They were capable of more, and could have played the songs of LP1 while asleep; thus, they were just going through the motions. Here at the Crystal Ballroom, though, they seemed like they were on a mission to prove they can still put on vital performances.
The songs of LP4, being played live for only the fourth time, felt as though they'd already spent enough time living within these songs that they already knew their flows and grooves intimately. The core four, the Kinsellas (Mike and Nate) and the Steves (Holmes and Lamos), never play like a band that has encountered a decent amount of turbulence, down to drummer Lamos leaving the band and coming back. LP4 is as relentlessly bleak as recent albums Kinsella has recorded under the Owen moniker, especially The Avalance and The Falls of Sioux, both of which grapple intensely with his alcoholism and infidelity. Those subjects flood into every crevasse of LP4, but in spite of how much it probably hurts to get up and sing “I held my breath in the dark/ I welcomed death in the dark/ I slit my wrists in the dark†and “Forlorn and frail, the Patron Saint of Pale/ Sedatives and therapists, there must be a better way to settle this,†Kinsella seemed downright energized.
The only major problem with the set, beyond the assholes in the crowd, was the fact that it was short. All told, we got 15 songs from them, omitting the final three songs of LP4 and reducing their other two comeback albums to just two-song bundles. Songs like “Silhouettes,†“Heir Apparent†and “Born to Lose†would have seriously enhanced the show, as would LP4 closer “No Soul to Save.†If we're lucky, maybe these songs will find their way into the mix the next time they breeze through town. If we're even luckier, it won't be another eight-year wait for another album to tour behind.
Kinsella only really spoke once, near the end of their set, which felt like it was just enough. At an Owen show, you can't get Kinsella to shut up, to the detriment of the music. Here, he lets the songs speak for themselves. As though he wanted the crowd to know he was really okay, his single moment of banter felt feather-light: “We were called American Football, we broke up and then got back together and decided to keep the name! If you Google us, we look a lot more fit and healthy.†The crowd laughed and then watched as the band tumbled back into their beautiful flow, impeded only by the drunken ramblers in the back. Even those jerks couldn't change the fact that this band is far from going through the motions now.
