Live in Hollywood: The Runarounds and the Art of the Moment

By: Gabriel Mena

Wow. That show at The Fonda Theater on Jan. 23 by The Runarounds felt electric—almost unreal. Ethereal in a way that’s hard to put into words. It felt like being transported straight into the JPCU (Jonas Pate cinematic universe) for a couple of hours, like the line between fiction and reality completely dissolved.

That feeling started long before the doors opened.

Lines began piling up around 3:30 p.m., and by the time I got there—two hours before doors—there was already a crowd forming friendships in real time. Everyone felt like they belonged to the same moment before it even happened. At one point, the band exited through the parking lot and waved to the line. The reaction was instant chaos—in the best way. Screams, movement, disbelief. The energy in the air already felt like a gritty LA indie band show. A young crowd with pep in their step and something to prove in this city.

Once inside The Fonda Theatre, the room felt alive—palpable, buzzing, impatient.

Easy Honey opened the night with an incredibly energetic set for an opening act, some fans described it as the best opening act they’ve seen. What truly elevated it was when they brought out Phil Pistone—from Ax and the Hatchetmen—to play trumpet alongside them. It sounded fucking incredible. I had never heard anything like it. Jazz crashing into indie, layered with that needy, gritty band energy. It didn’t just warm up the crowd—it ignited it.

Then came the moment we were all waiting for.

The Runarounds hit the stage right around 9 p.m., and from the very first notes of “Ghosts,” the night exploded. Perfect opening song. No easing into it—just straight into motion. The floor was packed and alive: dancing, jumping, signs in the air, people fully locked in and playing along with every moment the band offered. The crowd wasn’t watching the show—they were the show.

They carried that momentum forward through a seamless run of songs—“Cellophane,” “Sophia,” “Beautiful Stranger,” and a cover of “The Climb” featuring Lilah Pate—each one met with full-voice singalongs from the crowd, until the room finally softened into “Arrhythmia.” The band had just released the studio version, and for the live performance they handed out small pink hearts for people to place over their phone flashlights. As the lights came up, the venue transformed. The crowd glowed softly as the song unfolded—slow, tender, centered on longing and that heart-skipping feeling that comes with wanting someone. It was delicate, intimate, and overwhelmingly beautiful, a collective pause in the middle of all the movement.

And suddenly, it hit me: this all felt like I was now in this cinematic universe. What really drove that home was looking up to the balcony and realizing how surreal the room had become. Jonathan Davis of the Outer Banks cast was there, along with director Jonas Pate—Lilah Pate’s father and the creative force behind both shows. Seeing them there made it feel like this universe wasn’t just imagined anymore—it was right in front of us, unfolding live.

Then something surreal happened: Lilah Pate, who plays Sophia on the show, came out to sing “Hypocrites” with the band. To fans that have seen the TV show it felt fully canonical. The universe completed itself at that moment.

The emotion of the night was overwhelming, but not in a sad way. It was that coming-of-age kind of emotional. The kind that makes you believe in life again. 

And then there was “I Killed My Youth.” Think “Mr. Brightside”, think “Kilby Girl ", that’s how iconic this song’s intro is. Murdoch starts it off on the drums, completely unhinged in the best way, and then those violent strings come in setting the stage on fire. One of the best song intros I’ve ever heard live.

What made the show so powerful was how fluid the band was. Axel’s stage presence was undeniable, commanding attention wherever he moved. Jeremy’s guitar riffs cut sharply through the room, Jesse showcased his fan favorite vocal solos, and William proved himself as a true frontman—balancing lead guitar duties with vocals while expertly guiding the crowd through the night. And then there was Zendé Murdock—absolutely ferocious on the drums, driving the set forward with intensity and precision that anchored the chaos.

One of the most unforgettable moments came during “Senior Year.” A girl fainted in the crowd—and I was right there. I saw it happen. Instantly, people started signaling to the band to stop the show. And they did. The crowd opened into a wide circle around her, giving her space, water and air. It was beautiful in a way that only live music crowds can be when they move as one. Once she was safely helped out, the band restarted the song from the top.

By then, it felt like an encore—and emotionally, it hit even harder.

I’m in my senior year right now. Graduating in May. Hearing that song throughout this year has been inspiring, grounding, and emotional—but seeing it live at the very start of my final semester felt different. It felt like nostalgia for something that hasn’t ended yet. Like living inside a memory while it’s still happening.

That’s rare.

The Runarounds didn’t just play a show at the Fonda. They created a moment—complete, euphoric, communal. For a few hours, everything made sense. And walking out into the LA night, it felt like we had all just lived through a good time we’ll be chasing for the rest of our lives.