I Needed a Cigarette after Cigarettes After Sex

by J. Faith Malicdem

“Are we about to cry?” a question posed by my roommate as we walked into the House of Blues. Contrasting the waves of rain varying from downpours to drizzles, our jittery selves reveled at the thought of making it in. Once we did, The Velvet Underground’s “Oh! Sweet Nuthin’” set a mellow atmosphere. We spent the next hour bobbing our heads to soft 70s rock amongst a sea of couples swaying in unison when I realized that this was that concert. Cigarettes After Sex caters to an audience of romantics—the hopeless, the wannabe crooners, and every artsy Gen Z couple. 

Let me preface this by saying I am not an avid Cigarettes After Sex listener. For my friend’s 19th birthday, our circle decided to accompany him to see the group, and I excitedly noted the experience as an opportunity to expose myself to new music. So, that’s all to say that the following is a hot take on the concert as a Cigarettes After Sex novice.

You know how passive-aggressive characters bite, “get a room!” in clichéd movie and television classics? That room was the House of Blues’s main stage with Cigarettes After Sex headlining. About half an hour before the band came on, the screen above the stage flickered lyrics from track four “You’re the Only Good Thing in My Life” on their newest album Cry.

The band remained stationary throughout the concert with eyes shut, almost as if they intended to dissolve into the screen behind them, which showcased black and white clips of beach landscapes and Old Hollywood-esque actresses in their slumber.  The concert was focused on the album, even though Cigarettes After Sex peppered in a few of their older songs, to which pairs of couples lipsynced along with. The album features a tracklist of nine sleepy tunes to makeout to—a theory proven by the swarm of loving pairs who surrounded me. They opened with “Heavenly,” transitioning to an indistinct setlist. Nonetheless, we danced to their slow-paced, entrancing ballads until our eyes and heads grew heavier as the night progressed. It wasn’t long until the music morphed into a mode of soundscape, lullabying the crowd to sleep. 

But maybe this feeling is what the band had aimed for. 

Cigarettes After Sex’s music seems to parallel a daze, serving as background white noise for couples to vibe to. The concert was focused around the album, even though Cigarettes After Sex peppered in a few older songs, which pairs of couples lipsynced along with. The album features a tracklist of nine sleepy tunes to makeout to—a theory proven by the swarm of loving pairs who surrounded me. Cry’s tracklist melts into a singular swoon-inducing interlude with their most notable songs off the album: “Falling in Love,” “Touch,” and “Heavenly”—all songs the group performed in precise replication to the studio recordings. In my opinion, the concert didn’t feel worth $35. My friends and I could have easily queued Cigarettes After Sex’s music in our dorm room, and the same ambience would be exuded. This was a sentiment all six of us pondered after leaving the venue.  

Was I pleased with my new musical findings? Yes, but only minimally. The band’s ballads are soothing and enchanting. Their music is nostalgic alternative rock, radiating the similar feel-good vibes of a classic coming-of-age movie. But the concert itself felt repetitive and long-winded, and we left feeling weary. The birthday boy himself admitted that the show had made him “emo.”