It’s not often that you get to experience one of those full circle moments in life, where the opening chapter matches the ending so perfectly, it feels taken from a book or a movie. This Monday at Holywatr’s Irving Plaza show was one of those moments for me.
It all started at doors time, with a line spanning around the block twice; a sea of black garments, mesh, and lace. On the line, I heard conversations:
“I’m so excited to finally catch them live, I’ve been obsessing over them all year since they fell into my FYP!” // “I saw them about a year ago and have been waiting for them to come back.”
“I’m actually here for Mercury, they’re very feminine emo” // “Will you stay for Holywatr?” // “They kind of blew up out of nowhere, I have to see what the hype is.”
It was the first time I heard as much talk about the opener as I did the main act. It makes sense, as both bands began putting out music in 2022 and have harvested similar monthly listeners on their Spotify page since. Parallel growth — it seems to be the theme for tonight.
Inside the venue, classical music filled the space; romantic piano-driven compositions, re-interpretations of popular songs, with a splash of orchestral motion picture soundtracks. This might seem like an odd pick for a rock show, but it perfectly set the tone for the first band of the night.
MERCURY
Mercury opened with a creeping and haunting track, inciting an ocean of head nods and couples swaying together in each other’s arms. The drumming and guitar playing was sparse, allowing for the lead singer Maddie Kerr’s voice to resonate through the venue like a siren’s call at sea, her long hair on her face like waves covering a shore in high tide.
Occasional heavier riffs and breakdowns would crash in, only to recede and let their silence breathe gravity back into the vocals. The ebb and flow of intensity swinging like moods — a back and forth of tears and feminine wrath, captivatingly beautiful. The audience stayed solemnly entranced for the entire set. I must have seen maybe five phones in a field of heads facing forward. For their thirty minute set, the air was still, but ominous, like the calm before a storm.
After Mercury, the crowd began to thin out to other corners of the venue — to the bathroom, to the bar. Classical music came back on the speakers.
“Isn’t that from a Ghibli movie?” // “Yeah, that's the Howl’s Moving Castle theme.”
The piano almost seemed to lull the crowd. Voices were lower, walking was leisurely. Everyone was so polite, eerily calm, especially for a rock show. On stage, the opposite was taking place. Multiple people clearing out instruments with haste, rearranging the space. The drummer’s platform pushed up all the way against the back wall, a wooden piano scooted in the corner next to it, and one lone microphone propped in the center of the stage.
“There’s so much room,” one of the other photographers said to me.
“I know, it’s the most open I’ve ever seen this stage be, I’m scared,” I said back.
Then it began.
HOLYWATR
Holywatr start their set with “Give me a show”. A drone-like backing track chanting “ultio dulcis est” (revenge is sweet) encroaches the room as the band steps on stage. A melody reminiscent of Arabic scales follows, a ghoulish falsetto that resonates above the sound of a thousand fans screaming. A sinister guitar riff delivered by lead guitarist Chandler Martin steers the way for the drums to kick in, and the show has officially begun.
High energy begins to ripple from the stage to the crowd. The fans erupt in song, so loud they might as well have been the unofficial background choir. Above it, lead singer Patrick Middlethon delivers exquisite vocals, and I remember an Instagram post by Middlethon from June. In it, he expressed feelings of insecurities over his live performance, and stated he would dedicate the summer to strengthen his vocal and piano abilities, “so [he] can give … the absolute best version of [himself] on this fall tour”. “Well, he sure did,” I think to myself, as I listen to some of the best live vocals I’ve heard all year.
About a third into their set, crowd surfers begin to pop in the crowd. Timidly at first, then steady and constant after gentle encouragement from the band. However, the true eyewall of the storm came during “make it hard to steer”. Middlethon declared this song would have a “girl pit” - a newly popular phenomenon in rock shows where one song is reserved for the moshpit to be exclusively women.
“If you’ve never moshed before because you were too scared of the dudes, this is your time ladies,” Middlethon said.
I was on the balcony for this part, and I saw how the crowd below began to morph. People from the center moving to the sides, people from the sides moving to the center. The song began, and the crowd became liquid. Bodies moving like water in every corner of the room - it was the most energy the crowd had the entire night. It really goes to show what ceilings you can break through if you create a safe space for everyone.
The crowd was, in fact, so eager and enthusiastic, that a pause had to be called for. Someone had gotten hurt by a crowd surfer. This prompted a quick talk from Middlethon:
“When it comes to these kinda functions, there’s a chance you’re gonna get fucked up, that’s a part of the deal. This is a f*cking rock show. So what do we do? If someone falls, we -” and the crowd joined in, “pick them up!”
Middlethon then offers some sound advice: “No fat shaming, but, if you’re a big ass motherf*cker, maybe don’t surf.” The crowd erupts in cheer and the show continues in high tide as if nothing had happened.
Two thirds into the show, there’s a ballad break. Middlethon sits by himself at the piano, a single spotlight illuminating the far right corner of the stage. Middlethon offers a moment for vulnerability as he plays and sings, the once crashing waves now soothing into a mellow swell of people rocking left and right. I realize this is the eye of the storm, and it’s only a matter of time before we get lashed by its winds again. Sure enough, the energy begins to return with “green room”, their most recent release; the lyrics asking “do you like the way I slow it down?”, as if to cheekily nod to the previous song.
A strong gust of high spirit returns, creating the waves for more surfers to join. By the time Holywatr plays “nail polish” - their second to last track - the storm is back in full swing. The sound of the crowd singing thunders through the walls like an anthem. I put my camera away in my bag and I join the sea of bodies.
As I sway shoulder to shoulder with the people around me, I’m brought back to one year and a half ago, when a small band I had recently discovered played their first NYC show in a tiny room behind a bar. I got the idea to bring my camera, but the venue was so small and intimate, and I never shot a show before, so I figured I should message the band first and ask, just in case.
“Just come and bring your camera!” Holywatr DMed in reply.
That was the “yes” I needed to finally combine two of my biggest passions - live music and photography. One year and a half later, I’m shooting Holywatr for my 50th show, in a venue ten times larger than before, singing together with hundreds of people to the same tune that drew me to the band in the first place. I’m overwhelmed by the parallels, the serendipity of it all. And as I sit here writing my first show review, I am enamored by their growth — and mine.
Holywatr ironically ends the night with “loose ends”. Middlethon prefaces the song by saying there would be no encore and that this was the last chance to dance. The audience takes full advantage of this warning and rampages through the floor. As the song ends, the band gives their last thanks, the lights come on, and the crowd begins to disperse. The storm passes, and the circle is complete.
HOLYWATR SETLIST
Irving Plaza, New York, New York (11/2/2026)
Give Me a Show
Hiding in Plain Sight
Are You There?
Pure Leaf
Writing Goodbyes
Everyone Dies
fade
Burn the Witch
make it hard to steer
God can't save what's mine
winter pine
Wake Up
green room
Prove Me Wrong
Without u
ashes
Nightmares
nail polish
loose ends