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.]

The 1975: All Hail the Rectangle (A Tribute in Black and White)

The 1975’s frontman, Matthew Healy, performing at the O2 Shepherd’s Bush Empire with drummer George Daniel 

             I regret to inform you that I might have attended my last gig for The 1975 for a while. I probably shouldn’t even coin the term “gig” anymore, because The 1975 have well and truly transitioned to playing sold-out concerts. I have tracked my journey with them religiously on this blog. Albeit, I had not started this blog when I attended my first gig of theirs at Camden Barfly, but my second gig experience can be found here and my third here. That makes this post a celebration of my fourth at the O2 Shepherd’s Bush Empire on September 20th. 

             Do not take my resignation from seeing The 1975 perform live as a newly developed aversion to their sound; quite the contrary! I am just not a big fan of pushy, obnoxious crowds and lightweight drunk teenagers that seem to frequent the shows. When you have experienced a band on such an intimate basis in a room full of attentive listeners, like I have with The 1975, some of the magic and innocence is stripped away as a result when you see them on a grander scale. Nothing will ever compare to the early days of The 1975 and the interaction with and close proximity to band members Matthew Healy, Adam Hann, George Daniel, and Ross MacDonald, but I couldn’t think of a band more worthy of the success.

The 1975’s bassist, Ross MacDonald

             The 1975 released their flawless (and I do mean flawless) debut album, The 1975, on September 2nd and they are quickly becoming a household name. I can hardly visit a tube station that doesn’t have posters plastered of their album artwork or turn on the television without seeing someone grilling Healy for the origin of the band’s name for the umpteenth time. The public has been immensely receptive of The 1975’s sound and understandably so. In embracing a mishmash of genres, The 1975 caters to everyone’s musical tastes. I often spend my mornings in my flat bopping around with my breakfast and belting out lyrics to their songs. This only continues on throughout the day as I make the commute to and from university and when I fall asleep at night.

The 1975’s guitarist, Adam Hann

             The O2 Shepherd’s Bush Empire had already generated a large line of eager patrons when I arrived and we were either ushered into the designated stalls or seated areas. I personally chose to subject myself to the stalls and fourth row from the front is not a bad placement at all. If only I were a couple of inches taller, then it would have been ideal. The 1975 were accompanied by special guests, MMX and Night Engine, and I will openly admit that I am typically not a fan of opening acts. That is why MMX pleasantly surprised me.

             Originally known as the band Francesqa, MMX broke up and reformed under their new name. The band consists of members Ashley Wilkie, Warren Senior, Ben Hordos, and Tom Millar, and what a gifted bunch they are. From the outset, Wilkie’s croons were enough to have me transfixed as he caressed the microphone with fervor and intensity. Thudding beats and streamlined vocals from the broody and sleek-haired Wilkie form the basis for MMX’s sound. Not only did the quartet rejuvenate my faith in opening acts, but their two EPs, Child and Heir, have been on incessant repeat on my iPod ever since the show.

MMX’s lead singer, Ashley Wilkie, exuding unique stage presence during the opening act

             Wilkie interchanged from suggestive slurs to provocative pleas in his lyrics and his mannerisms oozed hedonism in the best possible use of the word. As an audience member, I felt as if I was overstepping into his private world with the hypnotic jutting of his head and the way he forlornly placed his arm over the microphone to obscure his face. Wilkie was a guilty pleasure to watch, and to be quite frank, I don’t think he realized the full extent of his rugged charm on the audience. In MMX’s song, “Tremor,” Wilkie laments, “I’m so sorry that I made you suffer,” but in my eyes, all MMX had to apologize for was the suffering I was about to endure after their set ended. 

             Nothing could have prepared me for Night Engine, although in hindsight, anyone following MMX would have paled in comparison. Formed in 2012, the band is fairly new on the scene and I actually couldn’t even track down the last names of members Phil, Dom, Ed, and Lee. Frontman Phil had what could only be described as a jarring stage presence, which was highly distracting from Night Engine’s overall delivery. While Phil’s vocals have been likened to David Bowie, and admittedly there is a disco-dance vibe resemblance, that is where the similarities should end. 

             I am not one to bash upcoming talent, but when a band sounds much better on an MP3 file than live, surely something is not adding up. Everything about the band seemed disjointed, from the folksy garb of suspenders and pressed shirts to the very odd facial expressions and screeches. I couldn’t make out the lyrics most of the time and there seemed to be a general consensus from the crowd’s restlessness that we were ready for The 1975 to show Night Engine how it’s really done.

             One perk of The 1975’s growing fame is that it provides room for a lot of growth in projecting the band’s image and refining their stage style. A large glowing rectangle, The 1975’s chosen geometric mascot, was indicative of this new showmanship. Centered in the middle of the stage, it was omnipresent during the entire show and sparked the perfect balance between simplicity and flashiness. Star of the show, Healy, sauntered on stage cradling a wine bottle and wearing a leather jacket like he was doing it a favor.

             The crowd went wild, and before long, I could hear the drone of the audience’s singing voices much more clearly than I could even hear Healy’s! It was so satisfying to hear The 1975 play songs taken from their newly released album and to shout, “Why you talk so loud?” right back at Healy during the song “Talk!” The band actually performed some songs that I had never heard them play at shows previously, such as the tender “fallingforyou,” from their IVEP. We had to brace ourselves (learned from previous experience) during catchy anthem and chart topper, “Chocolate,” which had everyone jumping up and down in waves that rippled the crowd.

             While that is all good-natured fun, some people get unnecessarily aggressive and start ruining the experience by their need to let off steam in the form of shoving and slamming into others. Several members of the crowd tried desperate attempts to catch Healy’s attention by shouting out to him. While I know he is a rock star, he’s still a person, and shouldn’t have to be subjected to these distracting acts of disrespect that take away from the show itself. I prefer not to dwell on those negative aspects however, because The 1975 are a more than phenomenal live act. In my opinion, their album only begins to scratch the surface of their talent and that is evidence of a truly gifted group of musicians.

             Healy seemed genuinely choked up to play the O2 Shepherd’s Bush Empire and, as always, was still the living example of playing for the sake of the music that most artists often lose sight of. I sang my little “Heart Out” while The 1975 stole mine even more than ever before. Their synth, their sex appeal, their songs all culminate to produce a band that is here to stay.

             The audience was still ravenous after The 1975 completed their set and the band burst on stage like they had been expecting our chants to call them back. The song “Sex” drove the encore and it couldn’t have been a more perfect ending to an already triumphant show. As the band members exited, all that was left was the looming rectangle, still standing as idol, savior. The 1975 have reclaimed the rectangle for their own, making it a thing of worship for devoted followers to bow down to and hail divine. They have certainly made a convert out of me and I reckon it will only be a matter of time before they indoctrinate you too.

             View The 1975’s website here, discover MMX here, and Night Engine here.  

Reminiscing: With Healy at Barfly in December 2012 (left) and The Borderline in February 2013 (right)