A Royal Welcome to The 1975

The Royal Albert Hall

             Perhaps I spoke too soon. In the last post I published on The 1975 (read it here), I sang their praises, but was also adamant about not watching them live again, not least because of the rowdy, raucous crowd. However, I went back for more, unable to resist the one-off show at the Royal Albert Hall on April 6^th. Purchasing tickets was in itself a much more complicated process than I had previously experienced. As soon as the tickets went on sale at 9a.m. one December morning, I watched incredulously as they sold out left, right, and center. I scrambled, clicking aggressively at whatever options were left available. The 1975’s fans don’t mess around, myself included, and victory was mine!

             I would soon become aware that The 1975 had in fact sold out (no surprise there) the Royal Albert Hall with its capacity of over 5,000 people. The venue was a truly historical beauty, and with seat numbers assigned to us, I was hoping that the venue would be much more structured to contain the “fan girls” this time. However, they seem to follow wherever lead singer Matthew Healy is concerned.

             Marika Hackman donned the stage to warm up the audience, but she sang and strummed to distracted spectators and empty seats reserved for ticketholders only interested in arriving for the main attraction. Hackman’s wistful voice and unassuming stage presence were sweet and soulful, but I did find myself becoming slightly restless. With a tough crowd to please, neither Hackman nor any other act could have entertained The 1975’s fans, especially when we knew what we were in for, or so we thought.

             The 1975 and the Royal Albert Hall were a match made in heaven. Smoke rolled on stage in waves, and like a military unit, we all stood at attention. In unison, our eyes were directed towards the stage in adoration as Adam Hann, George Daniel, and Ross MacDonald marched on stage. The anticipation built until Healy burst on the scene, toting what appeared to be a wine bottle.

             The crowd went wild and The 1975’s band members were as charismatic as they have ever been. Hearing one of my favorite songs live for the first time, “Me,” which is apparently a rare occurrence, had me honestly fighting back tears. A chilling saxophone-driven and lyrically self-deprecating ballad, the moment was unadulterated magic.

             The 1975 churned out gold as they wove together songs such as “Menswear,” a synth-infused finger snapper and “M.O.N.E.Y.,” which borders on talk singing. Songs like “So Far (It’s Alright)” were pleasant surprises in the mix alongside “Hnscc” and “An Encounter,” both instrumental and electronic soundscapes that were devoid of Healy’s silky vocals. Having personally never heard many of these performed live before, I found their incorporation electrifying.   

             As his figure dropped out of view for the rest of us, Healy knelt down and sang his "favorite song,” “fallingforyou,” directly to one very lucky lady in the front row. As he crooned, “I don’t wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss you neck,” he saw to it that the whole audience was falling for him. Cries of “I love you” echoed via the Royal Albert Hall’s powerful acoustics and Healy responded that he loved us too in that cheeky way of his. All the while, the whole arena ignited with the swaying lights from iPhones, paying respects to the long tradition of flickering lighters. Healy was very noticeably moved by this and screamed defiantly for everyone who thought The 1975 couldn’t make it as a band to look at them now.

             Healy next implored us to sit down and be quiet while he singularly took to the piano for the sentimental, emotion stirring “Is There Somebody Who Can Watch You.” Twice during the performance, Healy took his head in his hands as he hunched over in tears, managing to muster the words, “I’m sorry – this song…” I felt that this was an intimate soul-baring moment and one not often shared, or easily forgotten. Healy’s dedication to his art form was exemplified in his vulnerability, singing about leaving home and ensuring that someone was there to look after his younger brother.

             Five giant rectangles presided over The 1975 in alternating sparks, colors, and patterns, a unique show element that has become synonymous with the band. As Healy paraded around the stage, the rectangles seemed to perfectly frame him, capturing him in his element. I belted out every tune, as if stretching my voice to be heard over the thousands, and danced in my sanctioned area with reckless abandon. The seats did come in handy after all, because although everyone took to standing, we all resided in our personal territory.

             The 1975 ended by delivering “Robbers,” “Sex,” and “Chocolate” for their encore. Healy videoed and photographed us as the crowd and the four band members put their arms around each other, silhouettes proudly standing tall with those same rectangles beaming in the background.

             Fade out.

             Follow The 1975's rather miraculous journey by revisiting my previous posts of their gigs at The Borderline (read it here) and Heaven (read it here). For more from The 1975, including tour dates, view their official website here. See what else is on at the Royal Albert Hall here. 

             [Author’s Note: I lost my voice for two days following the concert. Was it worth it? Absolutely.]

Drumroll, Please…Presenting Bastille and Josh Record

             Out of the blue one evening, I received a message from a friend asking me to attend a concert with her, and not being one to turn down such an offer, I hardly hesitated in replying. Bastille and Josh Record would be performing, and while I was vaguely familiar with their music, I was more than vaguely familiar with the venue. Some might say I am cuckoo for Camden’s KOKO, which I have frequented on an assortment of nights out, including the not too long gone Halloween Ball that they hosted on November 1st. KOKO was formerly known as Camden Palace Theatre until its renovation as a live-music venue that also holds (very packed) club nights. Evidence of the old theatre lives on in its chandeliers, sumptuous red trimmings, directors’ boxes, and plush seating arrangements.

             My friend is a huge Bastille fan, so she was adamant about nabbing a first row standing placement and that we did (thanks to her six-hour devotion waiting outside before doors opened)! I aimed to prepare my ears for the noise that would ensue with giant speakers looming to the left of us. The speakers proved to add to the experience, reverberating through the crowd and matching the vibrations of the instruments on stage.

             Opening act Record graced us with fluid lyrics and wistful guitar riffs, which quickly had me bopping my head along. Record crooned soulfully with a longing in his voice and I am sure many from the audience that night, including myself, will be picking up a copy of his Bones EP later this month, an addition worthy of its precursor, The War EP. Record relied on his talent pure and simple without needing to overcomplicate his performance. Record himself was understated and emotionally stripped up there on stage, conveying himself as an open and honest artist. That proved to be more than enough to tide everyone over before Bastille were to grace us with their much-anticipated presence.

Bastille’s opening act, Josh Record

             Bastille utilizes the talents of Daniel Smith on percussion and lead vocals, Kyle Simmons on percussion, William Farquarson on bass guitar, and Chris Wood on drums. I had brushed up on my Bastille discography so as to be fully committed to the show, and before long, I was singing along with the best of them! The band was nothing short of energetic and how Smith managed to maintain pitch-perfect vocals while gliding and jumping effortlessly around the stage remains a mystery to me. The feel-good vibe emanated throughout the fast-paced act and Bastille manically played as if their lives depended on it, like puppets maneuvered on strings at the discretion of expert hands.

Bastille’s bassist William Farquarson (left), drummer Chris Wood (center), and lead singer and percussionist, Daniel Smith (right)

             While playing songs from their album, Bad Blood, that everyone cheered for and sneaking in a few from their mixtapes, Other People’s Heartache and Other People’s Heartache, Pt. 2, Bastille also busted out new material, one song going by the name of “Campus.” Smith waved the drumsticks around precariously, pointing at us, pointing at the sky, before landing with a dramatic thud on the drums. Smith’s quirky, jerky dance moves and undulations were surprisingly fitting and he later claimed that he couldn’t dance so we would have to help him out, but I begged to differ. He’s adopted a style that works for him and the band, which complements their fusion of fun pop and dance music.

             With a quick change into his hoodie, Smith dragged his microphone down to literally “work the crowd” and snaked around the attendees. His voice merely floated above us, it being nearly impossible to pinpoint him from where we were standing. The concert itself elapsed in what seemed like snapshots, aided of course by bursts of strobe lights. Smith’s live vocals rivaled the recorded versions of himself, demonstrating how incredibly satisfying and easy it is to watch a truly good band play when they’re in their element. During various moments of the night, I turned around to face the crowd and what I witnessed was a mob of people jumping up and down, jabbing their fingers in the air back at Smith, the disco ball illuminating the higher levels of onlookers peering down at the stage. Everyone was grinning and Bastille were grinning right there with us.

             Bastille ran off stage only to return and end with the widely popular “Pompeii,” which escalated to number two in the UK charts, and with good reason too. The night was a triumph full of riotous drums and electric personalities that didn’t end there for my friend and me. Exiting back outside, we occupied the back doors of KOKO where Bastille’s lime green (how inconspicuous!) tour bus lay in wait, to see if we could meet any of the band members. We were joined by many other eager fans, and as the members of Bastille piled out, it was a matter of who could grab their attention first before they made a quick getaway. There is no doubt they will have been plenty tired already and keen to retire for the night. 

Usually Bastille’s percussionist, Kyle Simmons tries his hand at the electric guitar 

             Record surfaced and broke the barriers separating the fans from the famous, appearing almost more star-struck by them than they were of him. He was genuinely willing to instill his undivided attention in everyone he spoke with. As he was whisked away, the question on everyone’s minds was when Smith would appear, the last member of Bastille who was yet to emerge and most likely the person everyone was waiting for, judging by the still substantial crowd. When Smith was eventually spotted, a guitar, an iPod, flyers, CD case inserts, and cameras were thrust in his direction. He took all of this in his stride and his soft-spoken manner didn’t match that of his larger-than-life stage persona, which was a sweet surprise. Smith made a point to connect with each individual, personally thanking everyone for coming to the show, as if he was the grateful one.

With Josh Record (left) and Bastille’s Daniel Smith (right)

             Pre-order Bastille’s double-CD album, All This Bad Blood, now before its release on November 25th and view their official website here. For Josh Record news, see here. His Bones EP is expected for November 24th. I cannot recommend KOKO enough, so browse the venue’s website here to see what’s lined up for the coming months.