It was my second time seeing A Great Big World, but it was my first time going to a concert alone. So naturally, as I awkwardly waited in line and finally walked into The Waiting Room after standing in the freezing cold for an hour, I felt like a loser and I thought everyone else thought I was too. I was having major regrets, and I self-consciously scouted the unreasonably drawn-out space, hand clung firmly to bag. I noticed some merch that piqued my interest, but I already was wearing my “Is There Anybody Out There?” shirt and I didn’t want to waste the little money I brought. I found a spot near the wall, took a deep breath, and waited for the night to be over.

When A Great Big World finally came on stage after the opening act, the crowd immediately electrified. They were completely less “cool” than the opening band, but Chad’s fuzzy pastel jacket and new blue hair paired with his always genuine and ever-endearing grin was enough for me to pull my camera out in excitement. Opening with a song called “All I Want Is Love,” I knew this was going to be a happy-go-lucky concert full of love and optimism and possibly even rainbows. Lo and behold, near the front of the crowd I saw a rainbow gloved hand fist pumping to the chanted “All! I! Want! Is! Love!” Love and rainbows. Maybe this wasn’t going to be the disastrous night I expected.

Although you wouldn’t tell by my unintentional visible apathy during concerts, when Chad said, “This next song is really gay,” I was pretty ecstatic. Sure, “Everyone is Gay” sounds like it’d be pretty straightforward with its agenda, but it’s about joy and casual acceptance without the pessimism that always comes with politics. I have to admit, watching the crowd all dance together was pretty uplifting. The song didn’t end with confetti like it did when I saw them at The Starland Ballroom, but there were still jazz hands. It was only the second song, and I was already surprisingly having a good time.

They continued with “Land of Opportunity,” a positively mean song that makes lyrics like “I'm changing my name to a word that's really hard to say / It's no one's fault, I'm just too young, and you're insane!” sound cheery. And when Chad brought out the blue trumpet, the crowd went wild while I was, as they say, internally screaming. Then came the vulnerable piano performance (the best part of all pop shows), and after Ian spoke about writing this song to propose to his girlfriend, “One Step Ahead” became a new favorite of mine. They seemed to alternate their upbeat peppy songs with their heartfelt slower ones, and although it was a little disorientating in the beginning, they were able to control the crowd. During “Hold Each Other,” my heart warmed a bit when I saw a chain of about eight people linking arms, and when Ian and Chad rapped (and they went for it), the audience’s enjoyment was neither ironic nor pretentious. Rainbow glove girl made another appearance, and her rainbow heart hands perfectly encapsulated the moment, and basically everything A Great Big World is about. I’m not going to lie, it was pretty beautiful.

I always found hilarious that their biggest hit was “Say Something,” one of the most soul-crunching songs on the charts. Most of their songs are cheery and almost juvenile, about love and you’ll be ok and acceptance and more love. But “Say something, I’m giving up on you” is the one everyone knows. Go figure. Nevertheless, everyone but Ian left the stage, and the huge uproar immediately silenced as Ian started singing. Without fail, this song always brings me back to one of my old best friends, and the performance was nothing short of captivating. I could tell everyone else felt it too. Although I love their naively optimistic power anthems, there’s a maturity to their sadder songs, and it makes sense that they get the most recognition for them.

Needless to say, before the encore, I bought a poster. Whoops. A signed poster with a rainbow background for $5, how could I resist? When I went back to the stage area, I lingered near the back, where all the real action happens. The people in the front come to physically see the band, which is perfectly fine, but the people in back come to have fun. There’s more space, it’s less sweaty, and personally, I can vicariously live through the people who know how to actually have a good time.

There were surprisingly three songs for the encore: “I Really Want It,” “You’ll Be Ok,” and “Rock Star,” which everyone was pretty excited about, including myself. When I was closer to the stage, the crowd looked like a bunch of young adults and teenagers, but at the back I really saw the diversity. Before, I stood a few rows behind a young lesbian couple who blocked my view every time they kissed, and now I was watching a muscle-y man with his arms protectively wrapped around a woman mouth every single word to “I Really Want It” into her ear. Between only two songs, I noticed (but tried not to watch) an older couple grinding and kissing to “You’ll Be Ok” and three little kids dancing with their mom to “Rock Star,” holding hands and kicking their feet around. And just so no one’s concerned, the older couple did stop making out when the children came along.

By far, A Great Big World is of the most genuine bands I’ve seen perform. Both times I’ve seen them, I’ve had the pleasure of witnessing people of different ages, sexualities, and social groups come together to enjoy the same music. There’s an unquestionable aura of acceptance that’s not blatantly political or a self-righteously progressive; it’s just expected. Saying they give off a positive vibe isn’t doing them justice, because for a moment, I believed “we’re all just looking for love to change the world” was a perfectly viable explanation for the meaning of life. I wasn’t repulsed by small displays of affection like I usually am, and I even found the older couple kind of endearing. I walked into the concert dejected and ready to leave, and I walked out excited to tell anyone and everyone about it. I’ve had two trial runs, and I’ve deduced that an A Great Big World concert is an unbeatable cure for a bad day, and it is the perfect medicine if you have a bad case of the cynic. I should start telling doctors.