Under a melting New York sunset, the rooftop at Pier 17 transformed into a sanctuary for the sonically unafraid as Dance Gavin Dance brought their “Return of the Robot” tour to life on May 24. The skyline shimmered. The stage radiated. But it was the crowd – wild-eyed and weightless – that turned motion into reverence, pulsing with the kinetic release of a band redefining their legacy.

Opening the night, Dwellings emerged with a sound that defied categorization. Their intricate guitar work and emotive vocals created an immersive experience, drawing the audience into their unique blend of post-hardcore and ambient rock. Intricate guitar lines snaked through a wash of emotive vocals, pulling listeners into a sonic fog. But their set struggled to capture the rooftop’s full attention. Maybe we were just containing our energy, maybe we were just being introduced to the world of Dwellings for the first time, however the crowd murmured and swayed in place, more curious than captivated. Though the band proved adept at building tension and releasing it in controlled crescendos, their presence lacked the weight needed to pin down New York’s recognition. The talent is there, but the performance is still growing into its shoes, suggesting a continued evolution for Dwellings that I look forward to witnessing.

Then came Belmont. And just like that, the floor was moving. Within seconds, mosh pits scattered across the rooftop like constellations – shifting, bright, and burning. Hailing from Chicago, the band brought the grit of Midwest hardcore infused with pop-punk’s infectious magnetism to the city that never sleeps. Their technical precision hit like muscle memory. It was their performance that made Dwellings fall short for me – the contrast was stark. They didn’t ask the crowd to move – they made them. Sing-along choruses met head-crushing breakdowns, and the room pulsed in time with their command. The rain poured down when they stepped on stage, but the second their music picked up, it cleared out and a rainbow came in its wake, making the performance feel even more monumental.

The Home Team was the sweet reprieve – a shimmering interlude dressed in silk and groove. Frontman Brian Butcher is, without a doubt, one of the strongest vocalists in the scene today. His live performance mirrors the band’s studio polish with haunting fidelity, soaring through melodies like a ribbon pulled tight. There are few artists remaining on my “bucket list of shows to photograph,” but The Home Team has been top of it for awhile. And they did not disappoint. Under a canvas of coral light, “Walk This World With Me” rose over the skyline like a prayer, and the crowd, suspended in the moment, swayed in collective surrender with their phone lights illuminating the stage. Butcher looked out and said it plainly: “This is the biggest crowd we’ve ever played to.” Judging by their rising stardom – and with their next album The Crucible of Life releasing July 12 – it won’t hold that title for long. Their set was a celebration of genre-blending, effortlessly marrying funk rhythms with rock intensity.

Then, the rooftop split like the sea as the night reached its zenith. Before Dance Gavin Dance even set foot on stage, the crowd had already begun to scream. Their arrival wasn’t just anticipated – it was celebrated like a long-awaited reunion. Fans made sure the band was aware that their presence in the industry is just as profound as it was in 2011 – when they first gained mainstream recognition after the release of Instant Gratification.

Dance Gavin Dance has had a tumultuous journey: a hiatus beginning in 2011, resuming in 2022, only to be paused again after the tragic passing of bassist Tim Feerick and further allegations surfaced. But 2025 marks a new chapter, not just of return, but of resilience, and the music is more alive than ever. The band has teased fresh tracks, announcing their 12th studio album, Pantheon, slated for release on September 12, 2025. Its lead single “Midnight at McGuffy’s” has already made waves, offering a glimpse into the band’s evolving sound, melding their trademark complexity with evolved textures. And while some questioned the band’s ability to maintain its essence after multiple lineup shifts, Dance Gavin Dance continues to defy expectations.

In 2024, longtime touring guitarist and backing vocalist Andrew Wells officially stepped into the clean vocalist role, joining founding members Will Swan (guitar), Matt Mingus (drums), and Jon Mess (unclean vocals). Mess, ever the chaotic oracle, has remained the band’s spiritual anchor since 2005 – and his all-white stage attire felt almost symbolic, a stoic figure holding the legacy aloft. While the sound might be different to diehard fans, Wells fills the role exquisitely and his vocals are impeccable.

On stage, Dance Gavin Dance performs with the comfort of a band that has withstood two decades of triumphs and trials. They came dressed in flashy outfits that professed their confidence, now entirely unafraid to be criticized rather just elated to keep pursuing their passions and finding support in it. The eye wasn’t drawn to just one particular member; Wells, in a powder-blue suit painted with clouds, floated across the stage; Swan, dressed in a zebra-striped tracksuit, bounced with signature swagger; Bassist Medina, radiant in a royal-patterned suit, grounded the band’s rhythmic chaos with style; Mingus, shrouded in backlight and haze, pulsed like a metronome at the heart of it all. The eclectic outfit choices never fit a band better, every single one of them are maestros of their instruments and that, alone, makes them captivating. Even when casually streaming Dance Gavin Dance, the ear never knows what to focus on. There is so much complexity to the mix, and that’s exactly the reason I fell in love with Dance Gavin Dance in the first place; their willingness to push boundaries musically, to be overly complex yet so sincerely honest.

What struck me most was how the crowd – composed largely of fans in their late 20s and 30s – had grown up with them. These weren’t just listeners. These were Dance Gavin Dance’s lifelines. And in moments where Wells’ voice soared, it did so with reverence and respect – not as a replacement, but as a revival. His tone, his control, his presence – he is not here to fill shoes. He’s carving a new path in them.

Personally, it was the instrumentation that floored me. As someone who plays both guitar and bass, Dance Gavin Dance was part of the reason I picked up those instruments in the first place. Watching them play iconic lines live – up close, locked in, divine – it was like hearing a language I’d forgotten I was fluent in. I stood at the back, planted, speechless. I wanted to mosh. I wanted to dance with strangers. I wanted to relive memories from my teenage years, going to Warped Tour and sweaty, small venues much unlike Pier 17. But awe anchored me to the ground. I was left staring at the screens, wide-eyed in astonishment. This is a band that is tightly knit in all the right places, exquisite yet accessible, and hearing it live is an experience that is indescribable.

The setlist unfolded like a love letter to their legacy – a sweeping journey through the band’s discography. They delivered the anthems that first carved their name into the scene, tucked in deep-cut fan favorites, and seamlessly wove in brand-new material, which, even though “Midnight at McGuffy’s” released only a few weeks prior, the crowd already knew every word, singing as if the track had lived in their bones for years. During the encore, Mess welcomed Brian Butcher back to the stage for “Uneasy Hearts Weigh The Most,” and together, their voices meshed in unexpected harmony – a collaboration I hadn’t realized I craved.

The night wasn’t just a concert. It was a reclamation.

Dance Gavin Dance has never been easy to define. They are messy and meticulous. Emotional and mathematical. Spiritual and strange. And above all – they endure.

As the final notes scattered like stardust over the East River, one truth settled in the hearts of the thousands who had gathered; this band is still evolving, still alive, still worthy of the stage. And we’ll be here, waiting for what comes next.