‘We’re living in a lost generation’. The wise words of hip-hop duo Rizzle Kicks seem to ring unavoidably true today… Have we genuinely found ourselves in an epidemic of loneliness? Where connection is mostly found through the screens of our phones? Are we suffering from a profound loss of human connection? Are we a generation “lost”?
If so, what is the solution? What can be our salvation; if we truly are living in an age of disconnection, apathy, clickbait and conspiracies, it seems vital we are offered some kind of refuge. A space that breaks down divisions of society, where connection is intimate and real, and one thing is collectively felt in the air – pure human emotion.
What could possibly offer us this, you may ask? The live-music gig.
Raised by an artist myself, I have always been surrounded by music. I experienced my first soundcheck in my mother’s womb, attended my first gig before I turned 4, school nights comprised of doing my homework to the blasting sounds of my dad’s records, and the seats of the tour bus or backstage worn-down leather sofas were where I rested my head. There was never a day of silence in my life! And oh how I took it for granted.
Lockdown took a lot of things from us. Live music for one. I wish I could say I ran at the first chance to attend a gig again after lockdown, but it hasn’t been until the past couple years that I’ve realised and experienced once more the pure ecstasy of being a part of the concert crowd. To say the live music venue is a transcendental space is an understatement. Once you step through the doors of that pub, bar, or stadium, the outside world at once feels irrelevant and is concentrated into this intimate, buzzing space.
Punk music has always been a favourite genre of both mine and my dad’s. What can I say, I am my father’s daughter! It’s what I was brought up with, it’s what speaks to my soul. One thing I have always loved about this music is how it speaks to the world we’re living in with brutal scrutiny. There’s no turning away from the ugliness of the world with punk. And it is through this rawness we can find remedy.
Punk is anarchy. It gives us permission to brazenly say f*ck you! In particular towards the ugly parts of society; judgments and hierarchies, wars and diplomatic hypocrisies, greedy billionaires and politicians. But beyond this and through this felt anger and frustration, I propose we are discovering something sorely lacking in our 21st century: authenticity and accountability.
Within the crowd of the live gig, this is amped up and experienced in all its grittiness.
Earlier this month, I attended My First Time’s sold out gig at the George Tavern. MFT are a new up and coming post-punk band who I first unintentionally came across at the fringes of a festival in Sheffield. Their performance captivated me, and I haven’t been able to stop listening to them since. The George Tavern is an institute in music history and culture, hosting some incredible artists in their journey to popular acclaim, such as The Last Dinner Party and Nick Cave. And here I was, experiencing this landmark in MFT’s evolution with the band themselves.
“Deep down, we are a bitter generation. And for good reason…Everything that was seen as important, such as human interaction and togetherness, has seemingly been replaced by people just being f*cking horrible to one another.”
Isaac Stroud-Allen, lead singer of My First Time in an interview with NME
The atmosphere was electric from the moment I stepped through the pub’s doors. A smiley face drawn onto my hand as stamp for admission welcomed me into the night and set me forth into the crowd that had begun to gather before the low-level stage.
Just before MFT were to start their set, I managed to chat with some younger fans who had positioned themselves at the very front, not wanting to miss a single minute. Recognising a buzzing eagerness in their anticipation of the band’s performance, I asked them what drew them to not only this gig but to attending live concerts in general. The consensus they came to was primarily the “energy” that can be felt with live music that simply can’t be replicated elsewhere. Supporting smaller artists is also always a bonus!
When asked how they felt after leaving gigs, particularly ones like this where the band are so outspoken on the current state of the world, ‘post-concert blues’ were mentioned, but it was the comment of one young male in the group that really struck a chord with me: ‘Seeing a band like My First Time, I feel very empowered afterwards. Because it’s very political, and very rebellious. It’s amazing.’
This feeling of empowerment was a vibrant current threading the atmosphere between the crowd and the band onstage as the gig continued. The pitfalls of social media comparison, consumerist influencer society, mocking right-wing rhetoric and lad culture, were masterfully translated through the narrative of head-banging music. Strangers turned to me lit up by the blue hues of the stage lights, faces glistening with sweat and stretched ear to ear with grins of absolute glee and revelry. The floor beneath me reverberated with the bass of the sound system and the unified bounces of the crowd around me.
And as I sat on the District line home still feeling those vibrations in the soles of my feet, I can honestly tell you I felt no less than absolutely and utterly ‘empowered’.
My First Time
Social media – https://www.instagram.com/my1sttime/?hl=en.
Spotify – https://open.spotify.com/artist/2YCAJa2kGotOZAe5lWC4D0