Anberlin opened with “Godspeed,” and frontman Stephen Christian yelling, “Everybody off your seats!” in the middle of the song. Most people stood, but apparently Christian wasn’t satisfied. The following song he again encouraged the audience with, “Wherever you are, get on your feet!” More stood up. Two songs later: “Dance wherever you are! Let’s go boys!”

Stop it. You know where we are. We’re right here.

I understand Christian and company wanted to keep the energy flowing throughout a set that, to be completely honest, I enjoyed less than the Jonas Brothers’ concert I took my little sister to. But all the songs seemed to have the same tempo and chord progression, and shouting to us seemed more like manipulation than stimulation.

There were some strong moments during their surprisingly short 25-minute set. “Dismantle. Repair.” was catchy enough, and Drummer Nathan Young was fun to watch, playing the role of a madman as he pounded away on percussion — I literally felt sympathetic for the drums. Christian’s voice rose above the muddled sheet of distorted guitars well enough, providing some sense of melody and when the “boys” waved goodbye, the audience was still engaged.

Between sets, I caught a glimpse of a sound technician toying with an acoustic guitar — it was a welcomed sight.

All-American Rejects

The All-American Rejects were next. Lead singer and bassist bad boy Tyson Ritter stumbled out, shirtless and covered in glitter and sweat. Heavy eyeliner gave him a ghoulish look and his pinstriped pants sagged well below his waist.

The band opened with fan-favorite “Move Along,” with Ritter telling the audience to “Move along, bitches,” as he struck sexually suggestive poses under the stage lights. Later, during the set, Ritter, hunched over his bass, compared the MSU audience to a “church,” saying (jokingly of course) they were one of the most polite audiences he had ever experienced. He was vulgar throughout, telling the crowd to “touch my c—-” at one point. I even saw a number parents take their elementary schoolers toward the exits.

Ritter randomly inserted “Michigan” into every songs’ lyrics, and whenever he’d shout out the state name, the audience would go wild — a cheap stunt in my opinion; however, his stage presence was undeniable. Ritter’s voice was strong, transitioning to and from falsetto effortlessly.

Lead guitarist Nick Wheeler busted out the acoustic I had previously seen for “Mona Lisa (When the World Comes Down),” which proved to be the quiet song — and it wasn’t that quiet — during the entire evening. The Rejects, who played the “classics” such as “Swing, Swing,” and “Dirty Little Secret,” were a bit of a refreshment, because at times, the guitars would back off enough to unearth some bouncy keyboard lines.

Unfortunately, the refreshments became sour after they were left out too long.

The band continued to play, and by the time they were finished with their “encore,” they had been on stage for an hour and half. It was now 9:30 p.m.

Taking Back Sunday

Taking Back Sunday came out after their extensive setup, shredding guitars and simulating spinal spasms. The band’s three guitarists provided more than enough “rock” throughout the set, and frontman Adam Lazzara was much more family-friendly and genuinely seemed happy to be on stage. “Thank you very much,” he recorded himself saying, mixing and mashing it with his sampler.

At this point, many of the floor seats emptied out, either to leave or head closer to the stage.

The most entertaining aspect of the set wasn’t the music; it was the little thrills that came with it. Bassist Matt Rubano sprinted up the inclined seating like a gas station convenience store thief, and a good amount of suspense came with watching Lazzara swing his microphone cord around his neck, potentially strangling himself with each twirl — he actually was quite good at microphone-juggling.

Taking Back Sunday played their hits “My Blue Heaven” and “A Decade Under the Influence,” but even then they couldn’t hide from their hour and a half set list.

There’s only so much head-rocking and shaking one can do and when every song sounds the same, no one gets a chance to recuperate. By the end, few people wanted to hear an encore from Taking Back Sunday, not because they were particularly bad, but because standing for four hours and receiving crushing blows to the head from electric guitars is quite tiring — I just wanted to go home.