Pleading The 1975th
Turns out it was, in fact, more than a phase. Told you so, Mom! Let’s start from the beginning. I’m sleeping on the street in Atlanta. Yes, you read that correctly. And no I was not paid or forced to. It was by choice… well sort of? Depends on who you ask. There’s a case for necessity here. I’m pleading the 1975th if you will ;)
I mean, what else is a girl to do OTHER than sleep on a sidewalk for her favorite band in 40 degree weather? “How badly do you want the front row?” people asked. What a silly question I thought, how do I express to them that I, of course want it, but I also needed it - as much as I need breath in my lungs?? Obviously??! By some definitions, sure, I’m out of my mind. But, as far as me and my dear friend Caroline were concerned, it was entirely logical, and in fact, it was a small price to pay for the serotonin we would experience just nineteen ~extremely short and not at all grueling~ hours later! Sure, we have a history of relentlessly enabling each other’s delusions, but each “buy the ticket now, figure the rest out later” moment has led to the best weekends and all-nighters driving back to Tallahassee from Atlanta because we don’t want to pay for a hotel. Caroline is no stranger to The 1975 shows; I’ll let her explain more here: Meet Caroline. She’s been navigating the stan Twitter scene far longer than I have and showed me the ropes for my first camping show. Neither of us knows anything STEM-related, but we do have this one thing down to a science. That skill is résumé worthy, right?
I have tried explaining all of this before. Why it’s worth the wait, the money, the effort. How the feelings associated with a band or any music can be so real it truly feels like life or death if you aren’t at the show. It’s not often a writer is at a loss for words. But here I am.
So, where my words fail, Alex Turner’s succeed, “there's always that one band that comes along when you're 17 or 18 years old, that manages to hit you just the right way and changes your perception on everything.”
That’s exactly it. It gets into your soul, something unidentifiable that only leaves you with the choice to run with it, or as described in a Far Out Magazine article, “like some Amazonian coming-of-age ceremony, you cut your hair in imitation and tattoo everything you own with hand-scribbled lyrics.” Full Article Here, Alex Turner on The Strokes.
I wish there was a camera crew in the room when I proposed the idea of me and Caroline going to New York to see another show to my parents. Yes, same tour; yes, same month; yes, same setlist. Not even two weeks after the “Atlanta Stunt” we pulled… not my best use of judgment, but you’ve gotta give me points for bravery. I wouldn’t ever need to fret about the cost of concert tickets if that reaction had been recorded and sold.
Anyways, rewind back to Atlanta. It’s November of 2022, and I’m with Caroline. Our supplies to help us endure the next nineteen hours of damp sidewalk and wind consisted of three hotel towels as blankets, a box of Cheez-Its, and two painfully subpar novels. I just remember knowing that this would be something we told our kids about one day when we drive them to their first concert together. Over the next six hours into the morning, we slept. It’s important to note here that the definition of sleep within this context is more closely related to rolling around on concrete and fighting for your life, praying to God for even thirty minutes of uninterrupted sleep. Sounds lovely, right? But, in some twisted and backward way, it was. We met and befriended so many other fans like us who were camping. It’s all part of it. We talked for hours, sharing horror stories of other camping situations and fan-made queues, and hashing out every aspect of the band’s discography.
Fast forward through more monotonous hours spent in purgatory, and the venue staff was finally ready to let us inside the venue. I don’t even know if walking down the aisle on my wedding day will give me the same kind of feeling…. kidding. Kind of !??
I’ve loved them for years, or should I say in love with them for ages. Their music, fan base, and tours have seen me through so many stages in my life. I’ve danced to Milk in every bedroom I’ve ever lived in, cried to She Lays Down more nights than I can count, and screamed Robbers in my car on the daily for as long as I've been able to drive. No matter how much I was changing, the music and the way I felt about it wasn’t. And I don’t think it ever will. The thought of that ever happening terrifies me. It’s brilliant, it’s tragic, it’s all of the above. It tells you where you are in that moment and where you want to go. It’s honest.
It’s sort of like time travel, in a way. When I hear Matty sing the opening line, “and this is how it starts”, I’m back in 2015 just as quickly as I am here in 2024 writing this. When my mom hears me humming Duran Duran songs, she’s back in the 80s with her teased hair and purple eyeshadow. Music can transcend any timeline, break down every barrier, and open up parts of our lives we have since forgotten. There’s just nothing else like it in my life, besides my faith. With just hearing the melody of a certain song, I can pinpoint a moment and say “this is where things changed for me”. Music just has this capability; it allows us to become part of a never-ending cycle, or conversation rather, that’s full of discovering, obsessing, and growing.
At this Atlanta show, I felt the same way I did four years prior, standing in a parking lot in Columbus, Ohio, watching them perform for the first time. At twenty years old, I stood teary-eyed, as enthralled with the band as I was at seventeen. Truthfully, I didn’t even know what some of the lyrics meant, but what I did know is that they made me feel. And for a young girl troubled by the weight of the world and longing for something more, that was everything. After all, there’s no definite meaning to art; it’s about your personal interpretation and how it makes you feel. It’s so funny. I read annotations on Genius, Reddit threads, and indie magazine articles, and nobody can ever agree on what exactly whichever song at hand is trying to say. It’s so many things at once, and there’s just nothing else with that kind of power. Not on this side of Heaven at least.
I’m currently reading a book titled “Fangirls” by Hannah Ewens which I'll link below. Although just a couple chapters in, I already feel so seen. It humanizes the “fangirl” experience and challenges the negative connotation associated with “being obsessed”, which I think is so important. What’s the point of life if we aren’t exploring art and seeing parts of ourselves in it? It should be celebrated when someone else’s words can emulate the very feeling you thought you were alone in.
Not only that, but going to a show and being surrounded by hundreds or thousands of people who you at least have a love for the music with is so powerful, just knowing that you are even the slightest bit connected to that many “strangers” helps me sleep at night. “To be a fan is to scream alone together.” (Ewens, 2019) Call me crazy, but all of it is crystal clear to me. The reasons why we go to shows, wear outfits, make signs, paint our faces, and skip work and classes are all for that feeling. A feeling that can be characterized by ringing ears and straining vocal cords. Bonus points if your mascara is also running down your face as well; don’t worry, you look chic.
And now for the “put the phones down” argument. Stereotypically as ever, I’m a Gen Z girl sticking up for herself and her attachment to the digital world. I hear it all day long, I read it, I watch it… “why do kids these days record everything?! Put the phone down and enjoy the music!!” I can see where they’re coming from; they totally have a point, but I still disagree. I mean, yeah. I’ve been behind someone who had a selfie stick and a recording set up that would give the paparazzi a run for their money, and it’s definitely annoying. However, I think there’s more than what meets the eye in these situations.
As the author of Fangirls, Hannah Ewens, says, “And the hope is - isn’t it always? - that someone else might care that we care.” Posting these moments is a way of connecting. When the boys are on tour in Europe, I watch girls in the UK livestream the show. Not only that, but on a really bad day, being able to return to those moments where you felt so alive, so involved, saves me time and time again. Our concert videos and venue selfies say “I was there. I saw it. I was a part of this; I want to remember this.”
What’s so wrong about that? Music is a way of self-expression, self-exploration, and self-description. The music I listen to is an extension of who I am, and I love sharing that with others. So when I ask to see your Spotify Wrapped, please humor me… I’m analyzing!!
So when you ask me why on Earth I slept on the street in Atlanta, why I fall to the floor every time I get a post notification for “trumanblack”, and why I have internet friends in the UK, it’s because of The 1975. And it’s because I think being a fan is a beautiful thing. I hope that counts for something.
I’ve wanted to write about this, about them, for so long. I never did because I wanted to do them justice, give them a proper introduction, and whatnot. I was never planning to post this. I just had a lot to say about the topic while reading and wanted to get it off my chest, but I’ve realized that not dancing when you hear the music could perhaps be your biggest regret of all. So, here’s my “dance.” Ladies and Gentlemen, The 1975.
★ ★ Purchase Fangirls Here ★★
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