We went to see The 1975 At Their Very Best...
The chill of the late January cold did absolutely nothing as I trudged along the path, in my oversized black puffer jacket, towards what I was hoping would be the night of my life. I was humming their music wondering what unhinged behaviour would the lead singer pull today when I stopped at the path to gaze at something transcendent - hundreds of people in fishnet stockings, Docs, oversized flannels with piercings lining their body parts, smoking and chattering their night away, queueing up for the same concert I was attending - The 1975 ‘At Their Very Best’.
Bonnie Kemplay opened the show for the band, entertaining the crowd with nectar sweet lyrics and a breathy voice, almost reminiscent of early Billie Eilish days. The support was great, especially the drummer, Toby Ollis-Brownstone. It was an innocent display of music from a vocalist and her band that can only be expected to be one of the greats someday.
Seconds felt like hours until everything stopped. The arena became dark as the audience stilled with bated breath. The light of a street lamp flickered on, as the crowd erupted in screams. Band members poured on to the stage turning on the lights as we got exposed to the two-story house stage set up. My eyes scanned the members hoping to spot Matty Healy, the frontrunner of the alt-rock band, until someone poked at the lump of clothes on the sofa, attempting to wake it up.
That’s when I saw him for the first time and that’s when the entire arena went berserk. Matty casually shrugged on a coat, walked over to the piano, looking extremely hungover, and took a big swig of drink from a bottle of alcohol - a sight almost akin to a borderline alcoholic college student’s early morning. Opening notes of The 1975 (BFIAFL) was enough to get the crowd moving about. The smell of candyfloss wafted in my nostrils as I breathed into the freshly exhaled smoke of cheap vape while dancing to Looking for Somebody (To Love).
But it’s always the slow songs by the band that hit differently when played live. When Matty began singing Be My Mistake, a chord in my heart broke apart. When We Are Together and About You saw some couples in the crowd slowly dancing in the dark, lost together in a moment.
The stage provided a sense of home, as if all the attendants in the arena had been invited to a private party at the band’s house. The first half of the concert was seemingly tame compared to the infamous antics of Matty that everyone was waiting for, until I realised the absolute genius of him with his introduction to the interlude. Midway through Consumption started playing on record, the band members exited the stage while Healy spoke out about the emptiness of the “in between moments”.
In those few moments, the entire audience turned from mere supporters of the band to voyeurs, as we watched Matty embrace himself sensually before slowly unbuttoning his shirt as he mimicked masturbation. Matty took us on a journey into his most intrusive thoughts, as he chewed on a raw meat shank and continued drinking from his wine bottle. He then got on his knees and did push-ups in front of the television sets which broadcasted videos of known figures like Liz Truss, Logan Paul, Mark Zuckerberg, Andrew Tate and more before climbing into the set himself.
The band came back on soon after, dressed impeccably in black suits. After a good session of dancing to some of the band’s greatest hits, Matty exercised democratic rights and asked the crowd to choose between Paris, Medicine, Change of Heart, and Menswear. Although Menswear won, the band ended up playing Paris for the high public demand as well.
Surrounded by my people - the gays, the horny (whose existence Matty acknowledged during the interlude), and definitely a few who are depressed and have daddy issues - I was transported back to my Tumblr phase with the performance of Robbers, from the band's self-titled era back in 2013. As I screamed the lyrics back at the singers, I could almost taste the teenage angst on the tip of my tongue.
The arena was buzzing with energy and it kept growing higher and higher as the night went on. During The Sound, Matty ordered the arena to “fucking jump” and for those brief minutes it felt like the arena was pulsating like a heart - it had come alive.
Flashlights went up as the band concluded the night with an emotional number Give Yourself a Try, dedicating it to all the attendees. I swear it when I say that I saw a father accompanying his daughter at the concert, sniffling a cry.
However, it’s not the theatrics by Matty or the vague political commentary made in between songs that kept us all in a trance throughout the show. It was the way back up singer Polly Money’s voice brought out the depths of Matty’s voice, the way John Waugh, the saxophonist, enhanced the retro vibes of the records played. It was the how George Daniel, the drummer, Adam Hann, the guitarist and Ross MacDonald, the bassist, balanced the energy with stoicism in the stage as Matty continued his drama.
It was the people. It was the band. It was The 1975.
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