I hope in reading this article you feel the magic, the joy, and the overwhelming sense of belonging that comes when you see your favorite artist live.
I’ve been to a lot of concerts in my 21 years. I personally credit my parents who raised me to crave the feeling in the pit of your stomach when the lights drop, the crowd screams and the first chord of your favorite song starts to play. There is no feeling more human, more vibrant more connected. I’ve had many moments like these, but never one like this.
All I can tell you is that The 1975 is the band we should all be listening to. They are easily the band of our generation, turning madness into magic, giving words to inexplicable feelings and turning the chaos of 5,000 adoring fans into family-like chemistry, singing every word.
My friend Gracie and I got to WaMu theater in Seattle at 3:30 PM the day of the show––– four hours before the doors were said to be open. In my opinion, showing up to a concert more than two hours before is totally ridiculous, but if you know the love I’m talking about, it’s worth it. When we walked up to the outside of the theater, I was tempted to cover my eyes at the thought of a hundred people camped out in a line sending us death stares for showing up this late. To my surprise, there were maybe 60 people, all spread out on blankets in collapsible chairs, sharing foods, snapping pictures, and just hanging out.
Soon enough, it all became real and like clockwork, lines began to form and people walked through the doors to the stage. Gracie and I (along with our new friends Cameron and Gabby) took our spot facing the center of the stage and we (not-so-subtly) geeked out that our band would be right there in front of our eyes.
The lights dropped the first time, and on came, No Rome. It was his first time in Seattle, but the London-based Filipino artist had no trouble making the stage feel like home. The blue-haired artist shared personal stories behind his hit songs “Seventeen” and “Saint Laurent”, and after 20 minutes, No Rome left us all in the crowd, in sync, and in love. After a moment to breathe, indie pop band Pale Waves caught our attention with their cool aesthetic and unique sound. Lead guitarist and singer Heather Baron-Grace of the band had the whole room wailing, “I want to be her!” after she strutted off the stage.
As the crowd was getting closer together, and the smoke formed a cloud above our heads, the music behind all the chatter became quiet. Gracie turned to me and said, “do you hear that?” I listened for the tune beyond the talk and recognized the creepy piano instrumental from the band’s terrifyingly true song, “The Man Who Married a Robot/Love Theme.” The song crept up on us just as the smoke filled the entire room until it was loud enough to be the only thing in our ears.
Then the lights dropped, all went dark and the screen at the back of the stage flashed the lyrics of their infamous “Intro,”: “go down/soft sound/midnight/car lights/playing with the air/breathing in your hair/go down/soft sound/step into your skin?/I’d rather jump in your bones/taking up your mouth so you breathe through your nose.” We were one. Every fan chanted every word at the top of their lungs as if they’ve waited their whole life to recite them in person. Then the four friends took the stage, Matty waving and blowing kisses to as many outstretched hands as he could.
They started loud and they started strong with, “Give Yourself a Try,” so strong, in fact, that Matty’s microphone snapped off the chord. For the remainder of the song Matty “conducted” the crowd encouraging us to sing louder and louder until the end. “Seattle, you’re beautiful, look at all of you!” he said in his Manchester accent. “We are The 1975 and we are happy to be here.”
So on the night went, and song after song the crowd got louder, jumped higher and (somehow) sang more off-key. “Somebody Else” came on and the stage flashed a pink rectangle, the signature logo the band chose, simple, eloquent and all too symbolic. Soon the iconic intro to “Robbers” started playing and the whole crowd lit up as Matty announces, “people all over the world like you all have told me that this is their song…” Hands up high, tears rolling down eyes, and releasing every ounce of energy in the air, the crowd sang to Matty and he sang right back. The song ended in a full-fledged outcry, “you look so cool,” repeated again and again until the tempo slowed down and the song becomes “Fallingforyou.”
The mood in the room suddenly changed, and in unison, we all sang the short and sweet song in perfect harmony. “Don’t you see me I/I think I’m fallin’, I’m fallin’ for you…” It’s rare to see a connection as profound as the one in that room. The crowd put their phones down and we were, for three minutes, one. Love all around, everyone swaying back and forth, singing to friends old and new. It is because of moments like these that live music will never go out of style; it is a shared moment that is simple, totally and completely perfect.
The energy rose again and the crowd woke from its love-struck daze, jumping off one another for the infamous “Love It If We Made It.” Following the hit, “I Like America and America Likes Me,” with the lyrics projected behind him so the crown can follow along, Matty screams the chorus, “Being young in the city/ believe in saying something/would you please listen/would you please listen?” That song made it clear that Matty’s heart was open on stage, in the hands of every fan, plastered on the walls of WaMu and dancing through the streets of Seattle.
The stage goes black, but only briefly, and he reappears with an acoustic guitar, and strums the chords to “I Always Want To Die Sometimes.” We had been waiting for this song all day as fans planned a special surprise for the band. In line hours before, a box of fake white roses was being passed around. “Take one and hold it up during ‘I Always Wanna Die,” was the message tossed from stranger to stranger. Thousands of white roses in the air take Matty’s breath away. “Oh wow,” he says, and the last line roses are being thrown lovingly toward the lead singer as he blows kisses in return.
It wouldn’t be The 1975 if they didn’t leave the crowd riding a high. Ending the night in a powerful rage, the crowd nonstop bounced to “Sex” and “The Sound.” The lights turn on and people all over catch their breath and restart their hearts in their chests. “It was beautiful,” is all I have said, and all I can say. The 1975 means something different to every one of their fans. They manage to embrace their fans in the most unique way, freezing time with a single song and keeping a moment alive in the hearts of every person who left that venue that night.
If you have the chance to see them, go. You don’t have to wait in line for hours before, you don’t have to be front row, and you don’t even have to see the stage, but to be in the presence of an artist who loves their band, the music they make and their fans as much as The 1975 do, is life changing.