by Viviana Mendoza
There are shows you go to, and then there are shows that feel like they’ve been waiting for you.
Walking into Castro Theatre on April 16 felt surreal in a way that’s hard to explain unless you’ve lived with a band’s music for years. The kind of night where everything feels layered. Past versions of yourself, present moment, and something bigger all sitting in the same room.
Seeing The Format on a stage in 2026 already felt impossible in the best way. And pairing that with Phantom Planet, a band that has been part of my life for so long, made the whole night feel like something out of time.
And somehow, I wasn’t just there. I was shooting it.
Phantom Planet opened the night with the kind of energy that immediately pulls you back into why you loved them in the first place. They came out swinging with “Do the Panic,” and the room lit up instantly. No hesitation, no slow build. Just that familiar rush.
Watching them on that stage brought me straight back to 2008, seeing them on the Honda Civic Tour opening for Panic! at the Disco. That was the moment they became one of my favorite bands. And standing there now, years later, camera in hand, it felt like everything had come full circle in a way I never could have planned.
Their set felt tight, confident, and full of life. Songs hit with the same urgency but carried a new weight, like they had grown alongside the people listening to them. By the time they moved into “California” toward the end of their set, the entire room felt connected. It wasn’t just a song. It was a shared memory.
And then, like something out of a movie, Alex Greenwald jumped into the crowd and started crowd surfing. The room exploded. Hands up, people shouting, everyone reaching to hold onto the moment for just a second longer. It was chaotic in the best way, the kind of moment that reminds you live music is supposed to feel a little out of control.
By the time The Format took the stage, there was this quiet anticipation that felt almost fragile. Like everyone knew they were about to witness something rare.
And then they started.
From the opening moments, it was clear this wasn’t just a reunion. It was something intentional. Something that mattered. Nate Ruess’ voice filled the Castro in a way that felt both massive and intimate at the same time, every lyric landing with precision and feeling.
Songs like “Dog Problems,” “The Compromise,” and “On Your Porch” didn’t just sound good, they felt lived in. The kind of songs that people have carried with them for years, and you could hear it in the crowd. People weren’t just singing along, they were holding onto every word.
There was a warmth to their set that made the entire theater feel smaller, like everyone had been pulled into the same moment together. Even the quieter songs held the room completely still, the kind of silence that only happens when everyone is fully locked in.
When they played “Oceans,” it felt like time slowed down. And then moments later, the energy would rise again, the crowd lifting with it, never losing that connection.
The encore sealed it. “The First Single” and “A Save Situation” brought everything to a peak that felt both celebratory and emotional. It wasn’t just about hearing these songs live again. It was about realizing how much they still mean.
There was a moment somewhere in the middle of the night where I just stopped and took it in. The lights, the sound, the crowd, the fact that I was there with a camera, documenting something that once felt so far away.
These are the kinds of nights you don’t plan. The ones that remind you why you fell in love with music in the first place. Why you kept going to shows. Why you kept caring.
Phantom Planet bringing me back to where it all started. The Format reminding me why I stayed.
And the Castro Theatre holding all of it, like it always does.
Some nights just mean more. This was one of them.
