Twenty One Pilots is full of contradiction.
There is shouting and screaming, bright red in the dark of the night. There are concerts. Jumping along with a thousand other people in some sort of unpredictable dance. There is meeting new clique members, and screaming lyrics as loud as you can. There is waiting in line, and laughing. There is passionate defense. There’s Tyler Joseph shouting “Is anyone out there?” at the shows. There is Josh Dun, using every bit of his energy to bring sound to the arena.
But going against this great noise, there are the quiet moments. In addition to Twenty One Pilot’s celebrations and battles, shouts and voices, there is the spaces when you can’t feel anything besides their music. In the middle of the hallway, in the back desk at school. Wandering the streets at night when their music is your only friend, comparing Oh Ms. Believer to the stars over you. Long roadtrips when the headphones make your ears burn. When you’re falling asleep in your bed, and the ending chords of the Judge play from under your pillow.
This band is full of contractions. Loud moments paired with silent ones. Being alone, and being together. Contradictions.