Roadrunner in Boston, MA — November 20, 2025

Roadrunner in Boston transformed to a fan-run ecosystem hours before doors even opened. By mid-day, the line snaked around the block, but the truly feral and faithful arrived much earlier: fans camped out starting at 11:30 p.m., the night before for the coveted barricade position. This isn’t just dedication; this is Waterparks culture—where a setlist, a guitar pick, or even a single chaotic interaction with Awsten Knight becomes a prize worth losing sleep for.

Inside, the stage lights dropped, and the first of many video interludes appeared: a middle-aged man in a suit, delivering deadpan introductions to each act of the show and calling Waterparks a trio of “jetsetting juggernauts.” These segments framed the night like a theatrical production, transforming what could’ve been a simple concert into a serialized fever dream.

HAPPINESS — Waterparks launched full-speed into “Blonde,” “SNEAKING OUT OF HEAVEN,” and “FUCK ABOUT IT” before handing the power to the audience. After performing three “secret shows” in NYC, LA, and Chicago earlier in the year, Awsten decided fans deserved more control over the setlist—not just the hits, but the deep cuts that live in fandom lore.

Boston’s first vote: “Telephone” vs. “Peach (Lobotomy).”

The room detonated for Peach, securing its spot in the set before the band carried on with “Stupid for You,” “Dream Boy,” and “FUNERAL GREY.” Pure serotonin.

SADNESS — The Sadness chapter brought a mood shift—and a power shift.

Awsten asked: “Gloom Boys or Not Warriors?” Boston went all in on “Not Warriors.”

The emotional build continued through “High Definition” and “Crybaby,” until the night took an unexpected turn during “I Felt Younger When We Met.” A fan in the crowd got sick, and Awsten immediately halted the song mid-verse. Instead of leaving the stage or awkwardly filling time, he did what only Awsten Knight would do:

He improvised an entire “vomit interlude” song on the spot—mocking and comedic, fully chaotic—as security and nearby fans worked together to clear space. Tour manager, Lucas produced a towel; Awsten grabbed it and wetted it, leaned dramatically over the stage edge, and tossed it to the crowd.

Fans helped clean the spot, throwing out the towel to signal the all-clear while Awsten continued riffing nonsense lyrics about barf, concerts, and “the circle of life.” When everything settled, he picked up exactly where he left off, turning what could’ve been a show-stopper into a show highlight. Only at a Waterparks show.

ACOUSTIC SURPRISE SONG — The lights dimmed, Geoff and Otto slipped backstage, and Awsten—alone with a mic, a guitar, and dangerous levels of confidence—invited Boston to choose chaos. Fans held up signs and phone screens begging for obscure deep cuts. Awsten scanned the crowd and announced:

“I’m picking whatever will make Twitter the angriest. Let’s ramp up the death threats.” The acoustic roulette began: “Teenage Jealousy” (partial, live debut) which particularly riled people up, “Worst” (partial) and “Violet!” (partial). Then came another vote: “Lucky People” vs. “21 Questions.” Boston screamed for “Lucky People.” Awsten obliged. The full band returned for a cathartic release: “I Miss Having Sex but at Least I Don’t Wanna Die Anymore.”

ANTICIPATION SECTION —  The next chapter was a preview of the new album—still unreleased, still mysterious, and already sounding like a career shift. The set included: “If Lyrics Were Confidential,” “Red Guitar,” “Prowler,” (unreleased fan-favorite in the making) and “Any Minute Now.” If this section is any indication, Waterparks’ next record is shaping up to be massive, weird, vulnerable, and incredibly self-aware.

ANGER — When the screen cut again and the narrator reappeared, the tone sharpened. The Anger section erupted with: “TANTRUM,” “REAL SUPER DARK” and “Turbulent.” The pit grew violent in the best possible way; fans screamed along with reckless abandon, each chorus landing like a punch. For the encore, Waterparks closed with “LIKE IT,” sealing the night with one last surge of frenetic joy. Roadrunner didn’t just get a concert—it got a multi-act emotional saga, a comedy sketch, a therapy session, and a collective meltdown rolled into one.

Words & Photography: Chinaza Ajuonuma