A Day to Remember & Yellowcard bring the “Maximum Fun Tour”
Pinnacle Bank Arena, Lincoln with The Wonder Years & Dinosaur Pile-Up. Setlists, shocks, and Halloween glory.
I wouldn’t normally do a show on Halloween but my kids told me to go knowing a full Yellowcard set has been 20 years in the making for me. Everytime they have come around something has been going on, and I haven’t been able to make it.
True to his word, Ben clocked out of Wells Fargo at 2 p.m. and we aimed the car south, Sioux Falls to Lincoln, past three hours of familiar midwest harvest stubble. Four months off the beat for medical reasons had left a hum in my bones; tonight’s the reset.
By twilight we slid into West Haymarket and the hulking curve of Pinnacle Bank Arena — the Vault — where the Maximum Fun Tour parked its carnival. Disclosure: Live Nation granted a photo pass and review ticket; no prior review or approval. Doors at 5:00 p.m., show 6:15 p.m., and the posted clear bag policy made security a breeze for the costumed masses.
Photo-pit roulette, Halloween edition. When Ben picked up his laminate, house rules clipped us from three songs to two on some acts. He shrugged the way show veterans do. I still find it funny that some rooms allow DSLRs but ban phones — even as my 2TB iPhone 18 Pro Max can outshoot half the pit and costs more than most rigs. No matter; on a night with twenty Waldos, several witches, a Scooby-Doo pack, a Buc-ee’s onesie (hello, Texas), and a merwoman with two Barnacle Boys. There was plenty to take in from the crowd and the Stage.
Show facts & context
Bill: Co-headliners A Day to Remember & Yellowcard; special guest The Wonder Years.
Seating capacity approx ~16,000.
Tickets/Listing: Live Nation event page (official).
The Wonder Years — TWY
The Wonder Years took the stage first — two guitarists (one swinging back and forth to keys), bass, drums, and Dan Campbell stalking the lip like a man with a mission. Early on the bowl looked sparse; by song three my row neighbors arrived and the arena had filled another fifteen percent I’d estimate. Campbell greeted “Nebraska,” nodding to the Omaha-to-Lincoln commute my seatmates had made to see ADTR — and then stayed for the whole feast.
House crew kept the changeovers frictionless — quiet excellence, instruments swapping like pit-lane tires — even as the tour’s smoke screen occasionally ran heavy. The band explained that Dinosaur Pile-Up had run into visa snags, so TWY stretched their set and squeezed in rarities like “Local Man Ruins Everything.” Civic theology followed: “We’ve got one left, and three things to say — protect trans youth, abolish ICE, free Palestine. If anyone asks who said it: The mother-Fucking Wonder Years.” They detonated “Came Out Swinging,” including the line I love — “I spent the winter writing songs about getting better.” The aisle choreography stayed Midwestern-polite; even cow costumes queued the wave so folks could pass.
Between sets: a blast of Blink-182 brought a smile to my face. Then the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man waddled out to the Ghostbusters theme, trailed by a Ghostbuster cam op and Slimer, while another Ghostbuster launched T-shirts into the bowl with a cannon. Halloween, achieved.
Yellowcard
Yellowcard raised the production stakes. One player at a time slipped into the frame, a guitar solo stitching the overture before the full ensemble snapped into focus: elevated drum kit, two guitars (with Ryan Key leading), bass, and the not-so-secret weapon — a violinist who split time between flights across the stage and precision lines that made the choruses feel airborne. They opened with “Only One,” then flipped the nitro with “Lights and Sounds” after a cheeky our time is now down here intro, and hit “Breathing.” New-era material from Better Days landed big, then the room hushed for “Believe,” their 9/11 elegy. Voices around us broke into small, private harmonies; others stood quiet, remembering. Pyro marked the countdown and for a second the past pressed its thumb into the present.
If your not familiar with their 9/11 tribute here are some hard hitting lines:
“Think about the heroes saving life in the dark”
“Climbing higher, through the fire”
“Never knowing you weren’t going to be coming down alive”
“Thank you for giving up your life that day”
“Those who perished on this site one year ago”
“To bring order out of chaos / To help us make sense of our despair”
“The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here / But it can never forget what they did here”
“Be strong, believe”
They surged back with “Way Away” and “Light Up the Sky.” They stopped to call for medics — good on them — and then, laughing, wished the parents a happy Halloween for ditching their kids. Key riffed about being back after a decade, about alternate timelines, about a recent chart pop and a studio brush with Travis Barker. New favorite “Bedroom Posters” turned into a chorus-pit handshake. Near the end, the title track “Better Days” hit, followed by the confetti confessional “Ocean Avenue.” As the lights came up I clocked a rave fan slicing cool air into the pit like a mercy.
One selfish Halloween wish lingered: two older cuts we didn’t get — Finish Line and Firewater. Finish Line would’ve been the perfect curtain-drop, all sprint-and-release catharsis to send the cornfield goths floating into the West Haymarket night.
A Day To Remember — ADTR
The stage transformed again for A Day to Remember, as a cinematic intro rolled across the massive wall — something like a cousin to Excision’s Lost Lands spectacle, only pop-hardcore. Costumes stayed on-brand: a minion working guitar, a Ghostbuster on bass, Freddy Mercury on another elevated drum set, and the rest in streetwear.
Confetti early, crowd-surfing sooner, weather toggled by LEDs — rain mode to pyro and back like someone had a remote for the sky.
ADTR’s signature coin-flip — breakdown and sing-along — proved the smart choice to close a mixed-era bill. I’d have been just as happy ending on Yellowcard’s hard-won nostalgia, but there’s a logic to finishing with the heavier throttle. It kept the masks smiling.
Ben’s Photo Pass Notes — Dream Come Reality
122 concerts in the books since 2005 (not counting theater). The first was Seether/Crossfade; adult money doubled the pace in the back half of those twenty years. I’ve done meet-and-greets, chased the rail, and collected enough picks, sticks, and setlists to wallpaper a room. For two decades I watched photographers work the other side of the rail and thought: dream job.
I started writing concert reviews May 12, 2025 (Papa Roach/Rise Against). Six months later — Halloween, 2025 — I got my first Photo Pass for A Day to Remember & Yellowcard at Pinnacle Bank. Lynn Higginbotham, the arena’s marketing director, welcomed me, updated the contracts (TWY stayed at 3 songs; Yellowcard’s intro counted as one, so 2 songs; ADTR dropped to 2), printed the pit call-times, and made one rule crystal clear: no phones in the pit, even to check the time. There were six other photographers — above average, I was told.
When the lights dropped for The Wonder Years, instincts took over: angles, light, where to stand. After our three songs, we stashed gear and were allowed to watch the rest — perfect palate-cleanser for nerves.
Yellowcard’s Halloween intro (Stay Puft + Ghostbusters crew firing shirts) was a blast to shoot; then “Only One” and “Lights and Sounds,” and I had to fight the urge to sing along.
A Day to Remember were the toughest: they opened with “Downfall,” played to the camera, and our window vanished in a blink. Twenty steps out of the pit, the confetti cannons thundered — safety first and no complaints.
We drove home three-plus hours in reflective quiet. If you’d told sixteen-year-old me I’d end up in the pit doing the “dream job,” I’d have laughed. But here we are. I could get used to this.
Ben and I have been hitting shows together for a decade — this time though was fun seeing him switching lenses mid-chorus, trading notes, trusting the other to catch what we miss. After four months away from shows due to medical issues, it felt like what music always promises and sometimes delivers: not a cure, but a companion. The bands did the rest — talking to the room, not at it. In the end, Halloween 2025 wasn’t just a show; it was a day to remember and a pledge to keep showing up.
