Go Now and Live - a goodbye.

13:46

Last Wednesday morning, after months of speculation on a lot of hardcore fans' part, We Are The Ocean announced the terrible, yet somehow inevitable : their break-up. We all wished for a miracle to happen, but we have seen most of our favourite bands break up, and we know the tell tale signs. When a band stops touring, gets grown up jobs, doesn't release new music and starts being nostalgic, it's time to collect your pennies for the farewell tour.


Of course, I wish it had never happened. Of course, I wanted the miracle to happen, I wanted them to be saved. (I mean, I even drunk-tweeted the band's account I didn't want them to break up...)
Of course, I'm angry and upset with the music press who never gave them a chance after Dan left - I remember, last year, the interviewer asking them about him during Sunday Brunch. By this point, Dan had been gone for three years and a half, and they were still being asked about the influence his departure had on the band's sound. It's the kind of bullshit no band should have to go through, and, to the best of my knowledge, it's the kind of bullshit no other band in their case has gone through.


I could write something sad and soppy, something lame, a real tearjerker. Instead, I'm going to compile the best things that have happened during my five year, two month and, to this point, twenty-two day stint alongside the London boys. It all started the day I was listening to Nothing Good Has Happened Yet in the Ibis Budget next door to the O2 Academy in Birmingham. They were to support The Blackout the day after and I didn't want to be the only idiot at the front who wouldn't know who they were. Who would have thought. 
(Expect lots of horrible photos from a time I had a terrible camera and didn't know the first thing about taking a half-decent picture)

  • The first ever show 
My first ever time seeing We Are The Ocean live was on the 4th of November, 2011. They were supporting The Blackout (alongside Canterbury and Page 44) on the second and biggest leg of the Hope tour. I ended up not being the only idiot at the front who didn't know who they were. I was the idiot at the front who was hit by a brick at full speed by how strong their performance was. Dan went on the barrier, up close and personal with the crowd. Liam's voice was louder than anyone else's that night. I was in for the long haul already.


  • The first headliner
The first time I saw We Are The Ocean headline a show was two months later. See, back then, a lot of travelling to see bands happened, but I usually waited until they were a little established in my life. Jumping on a train to Reading to see a band after two months of being a fan was unheard of. I didn't do that. I mean, unless I was sure I liked them THAT much, I stayed at home because I would regret it in the future. We Are The Ocean were the first exception to that rule, and they threw that rule in the bin - that gig was worth every single penny spent. 

The flash on my camera gave up on life mid-gig. That's the kind of thing that used to happen to me A LOT back in the day. Hence why this thing is super blurry. I think I was the only person in this town to be cold to a point I was wearing two jumpers and fluffy gloves.


  • Paris with Silverstein
I didn't want to do a list of all the gigs that happened (especially because there's twenty one of them and that's a long list), but the next one matters a lot, too. In April 2012, We Are The Ocean found their way to Paris, supporting Silverstein at la Boule Noire, a fairly small venue. There was a lot of rain and macarons and tears on my part when Runaway happened. There was also that man who, I think, worked at the venue, who mentioned Johnny Hallyday and we started talking about his ten thousand farewell tours. Why do I remember that, go wonder. I suppose I was just not used to having regular conversations with people in bands. 

  • Swindon
Yeah, you've read that right - something that happened in Swindon is in the list of the coolest things that happened. It was the band's first ever headliner without Dan and I cried for half of it. The stage was impossibly high and I couldn't help but seeing the setlist, and even though I knew what was to come, I ended up in sobs halfway through. (It's meant to be a list of "my favourite memories" and here I am, listing the moments when I've SOBBED. I'm the worst)
I suppose, for a long time during that gig, I wished, like a child, that I would wake up and Dan wouldn't have gone or something. I had experienced band members leaving with bad blood, resulting on drama between the remaining members and the fans, and I didn't want that to happen. So I threw myself in their music headfirst and refused to give up on them, refused to listen to the rumours. I was beyond the long haul, by this point. It's a hard feeling to put into words. 

  • The release of Maybe Today, Maybe Tomorrow and Young Heart.
Maybe Today, Maybe Tomorrow was released on the 17th of September 2012, and I was meant to fly to Germany a couple of days after. I (not very legally) downloaded the album, put it on my Blackberry (this is so 2012 it hurts), bought the CD in Berlin and spent that entire day listening to it. To this day, it remains one of my favourite albums of all-time. The lyrics are everything I wanted and needed to hear at that one specific point in my life (ie height of depression and helplessness, moments when I didn't know what I was going to do with myself and I felt stuck in one place while every single person I knew was moving forward), and it helped greatly with how I felt. (Yeah, I know, I said I didn't want to make this soppy and emotional).
There's a song on the album called Young Heart, and it's about relationships with parents, and the lyrics are everything I went through, back then. I've listened to it more times than I care to count and it still means the world and beyond to me. I don't think there is any other song that has mattered to me in any moment more than Young Heart has. (Hence the floods of tears every time I hear it live)




  • Wembley
I don't think I could ever be able to express how stupidly proud I was when they ended up playing Wembley with You Me At Six. I mean... Wembley. Sold out Wembley arena. Twelve thousand people. Singing along while a group of boys stared at us because they didn't understand why we knew the supports. The belief they would sell it out themselves one day. 

  • The Damage tour.
Fast forward to almost a year later. The Maybe Today, Maybe Tomorrow era is going strong, they're playing every single day festival in the book (I'm pretty sure 2013 is the year where they played Hit the Deck, Takedown AND Slam Dunk, which is a very 2013 thing to do, by the way, but also gave them no chance to get rid of me, ever). If seeing them support You Me At Six was a thing I was ridiculously proud of, imagine how I felt when they played with my all-time favourite band - Jimmy Eat World. I witnessed the moment in Newcastle of all places, from the barrier, did my obligatory cry to Young Heart and heard my all-time favourite musician give them a shout out before they played my all-time favourite song. As a fan of both bands, this day was like Christmas and my birthday rolled into one. 


I have no idea where any of the live pictures are, so, you know, have my face again.

  • Paris - again, finally.
I know they probably couldn't help it, but one thing was insanely infuriating, as a We Are The Ocean fan - the fact they would never, ever find their way to Paris. We'd got the Silverstein tour, and that was it. There was a time when two or three full German tours had been announced (with a show in Amsterdam thrown in it for good measure and probably to justify calling it a "European tour") and there was never, ever a French show. I think it got to a point where they'd played twenty shows in Germany in the space of a year and three in France in their entire career. Just before the release of Ark, I finally got what I had waited for (and complained about) for years - a headliner at home. It's safe to say it was about time. It was also a brilliant moment. (I accidentally got singled out from the stage and Liam was surprised I was there, because obviously I wasn't going to turn up at these idiots' gig in my hometown after years of complaining). There was a Led Zeppelin cover that became iconic. 


  • Islington.

I was full of hope when Islington happened. The venue was packed and the singalongs were loud, louder than I'd witnessed at many a We Are The Ocean show. I was full of hope. I thought it meant it would get better. I haven't seen them since, and the next time we're all together in a venue, it's the end. 





There are so many memories that I can't put into words and pictures. This band gave me a little bit of hope when I had none, they gave me comfort, they made me laugh and they made me smile. They gave me friends, because somewhere, out there, from Manchester to the United States of America, there are people who love them just as much as I do. They gave me a reason to get my butt on a Megabus and go to the other side of the Channel. For the past five years or so, they made me happy. There are so many moment where they probably wished they could get rid of me and I'm grateful for the love and kindness they showed me - that also can't be put into words. I suppose this is just a big thank you for never being annoyed because I was everywhere. (Literally everywhere)
I wish there was a way the end would not be the end. I don't want my gig count to stop at twenty-something. I wanted it to skyrocket and I still wanted it to happen when I was old and grey and should absolutely not be trying to mosh to The Waiting Room. I wanted to be left breathless, speachless and with a massive smile on my face forever. I know, the music's not going anywhere. But, still. 

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