I had thought about it a lot - it was April and almost a third of 2017 was gone, and still I hadn't been to a heavy gig, this year. This issue is sorted now I've attended Parkway Drive's Unbreakable tour, and I don't think I could have picked a better band than the Australians to start my metalcore year in style.

The evening starts with American hardcore band Stick To Your Guns and, sadly, I ended up missing a chunk of it. It seems the Bataclan thought two security guards on the door were enough for over a thousand people. It's not, and it took us forty five minutes to get inside. By the time I find myself a nice spot on the left side of the room, the Americans have played, what, three songs already, and I am a little bit frustrated. I only end up seeing fifteen, twenty minutes of their set, and I wish it had been more. They're one incredible band, Stick To Your Guns. They have an energy and an honesty like no one else. They're a band I admire a lot, and hearing frontman Jesse Barnett denounce all the wrong Donald Trump is currently doing as well as marvelling over he fact his band is the first hardcore band to have ever played a show in Nairobi, Kenya, reinforces that admiration. Man. I wish I'd watched the whole thing. That band is pure gold.

Next up is Asking Alexandria, and forty eight hours later, roughly, I still don't know what to think. 

See, I had accidentally found myself on board with Denis Stoff-era Asking Alexandria. I had seen them a couple of times and had found them quite good, and the show they played at the Engine Rooms in Southampton in August, even though they were missing guitar player Ben Bruce, had been great. I was confused as to what would happen now former frontman Danny Worsnop was back - what would they play, how would they sound, what would their live show be like.
It's safe to say it was a strange experience. A vast majority of the crowd simply does not give the tiniest fuck about what is going on on stage, to a point that just before the band embarks on their last two songs (Not the American Average and extra iconic scene hit The Final Episode (Let's Change the Channel)), Wornsop informs us they're almost finished and they have had "a time" in Paris. Not a brilliant time, not a great time, not even a good time - just a time, they've been here, they've done it, but that's about it.
Objectively, Asking Alexandria sound good. Their performance is arguably much better than it was the last time they'd played the French capital (in October 2015 at the Cabaret Sauvage) and Worsnop sounds like a different man compared to the only time I've seen him perform in the band (Download Festival 2013). His voice is solid and strong, he knows it - maybe a little bit too much. When I listen to The Final Episode, I don't want to hear Céline Dion-like vibratos. I want gnarly screams and I want to feel like 2008 is being revived right before my eyes, complete with raccoon hair and stripy black and red jeans.
Paris totally got the Céline Dion treatment on Thursday.




Don't expect anything to hear off The Black either - Worsnop has made it super clear that Stoff was just there to keep his seat warm, and if, like me, you enjoyed the album, well, too bad, go listen to it on Spotify. Live, it's all about Reckless & Relentless, From Death to Destiny and Stand Up and Scream.
I can't honestly say Asking Alexandria's performance was bad, because it wasn't. As I said, they sounded good and solid, and they have definitely improved over the years. It was just a confusing set. I can't quite place what direction they might want to go towards in the future, and any sort of band dynamic is dead and buried - I just realised I hadn't heard guitarist Ben Bruce pipe up once in the space of forty-five minutes, and it felt a little bit like Danny Worsnop featuring his backing band.
The road to recovery, if there is ever one, will be long and bumpy for Asking Alexandria, and any fondness I'd developed for them during the short lived The Black era seems to have gone down the drain on Thursday.
I might still come back for Moving On, mind you. A power ballad with a banging key change. Who would expect anything else coming from me.




When Parkway Drive come on, I know Paris is not getting the full CO2, fire and spinning drum-kit treatment, but I am over excited nonetheless. (And we still get a drum solo towards the end, and Ben Gordon might just be one of the best metal drummers around as we speak.) The feeling I had when I saw them last year play La Cigale and then Brixton Academy has rarely ever been matched by any other band, and it hit me, on Thursday - they might just be the best band to have ever graced a stage. Yes, like in the history of ever.
Even if I tried my hardest to find something to pick on, or something to debate about, or even something to nuance, make a comparison with the previous times I'd seen them, I could not. Parkway Drive offered Paris an absolutely flawless metal show, and after about five seconds (the time it took to Wild Eyes to start and to the confetti cannons to explode over the already sweaty Bataclan), I stopped caring about the fact we weren't getting any pyro tonight. And Lord knows how much I love pyro.
Also, I think we need to talk about how great an opener Wild Eyes. How great a song Wild Eyes is.
Hell, maybe we just need to discuss how great a band Parkway Drive is.





On Thursday, I found a thing I liked more than a regular singalong. Shocking, am I right?
You know, some songs have a little bit, a word, a sentence that has become a classic, and when it's being played live, everyone shouts it at the top of their lungs.
A Day To Remember's "Disrespect your surroundings", Architects' "You had it all, you fucking pigs". That kind of thing.
And, of course, I couldn't dare to forget the beginning of Parkway Drive's Carrion. There's nothing more satisfying than hearing a thousand people echo one single word, one single sentence, and there's also nothing more satisfying than being a part of it.
And maybe, maybe the main thing about why I love seeing Parkway Drive live so much is that wherever you are in the crowd, whether you are in the moshpit or on the side, whether you crowdsurf or just sing along, whether you move or you stand still, is that you are part of something. Something slightly bigger than you. It's not really a sense of community, even though that feeling will kick in towards the end, as frontman Winston McCall reminds us of the Bataclan tragedy and tells us that our energy is the flower we need to strive towards a better world (roughly). It's a sense of belonging. It's the fact that you enter the room and Parkway Drive enter the stage, and all of us, the five people on stage and the thousand people or so in the room, we are one.

McCall will spend a big chunk of their set thanking us for our energy and saying we are perfect, but really, our energy was just trying to match the one displayed on stage. Heavy music sticks with me because it helps me channel my anger and frustration, sometimes, but also because it is beyond my understanding capacities. I have grown up alongside it and the whole "ugh, it's just noise" mentality never hit me as it was so common in my household. Yet, sometimes, I can't exactly quite comprehend how something so loud and so brutal can be so beautiful.
Because what I've seen on stage, on Thursday, it's art, and it's pure beauty, and it's positive energy from start to finish, from every lyric to that stupidly stunning guitar solo in Idols and Anchors - and that comes from someone who never really gave a damn about guitar solos. I feel the same way I had felt after Brixton and after La Cigale - that band is so damn special. There's something to admire about such a band, you know. They have mastered the art of producing songs that are stupidly heavy and at the same time, stupidly catchy (you should have seen my dance moves!), and they have mastered the art of performing them on stage perfectly, night after night. That is one thing I have trouble understanding, sometimes. Metalcore is tough to perform and it takes a lot of energy out of the band playing. And yet metalcore bands are often the ones doing the longest, trickiest, most exhausting tours. Credit where credit's due, yeah?





When it hit me that Parkway Drive might just be my favourite live band (that took approximately half a song, and was set in stone when I started dancing on my little step to Vice Grip and Karma), I decided that I want them to become the biggest metal band in the world. I still stand amazed at how many people in this world connect with something that is not on mainstream media and that is a niche, and I want it to become even more and more important. After selling out Brixton Academy twice, maybe they should head for Wembley, next time they're in the UK. I just think it's about time a really heavy metal band found its way to arena size venues.

The Ire era is probably reaching its end, and God, it makes me sad. I kinda feel like I just want this band to tour year in, year out, and to see them every single day of my life. What greater feeling can a band give you, yeah.



{ PS : I didn't want to have to write an extra something about security being terrible, but what's gotten into every single one of you security people? On Thursday, crowdsurfers were being kicked out for being "violent", as if security hadn't been informed of the fact that this was, indeed, a heavy metal gig with limbs flying around and a frontman that was going to ask people to crawl on top of one another in perfect harmony. Security then tried to tell people that if they crowdsurfed more than once, they would be kicked out - and obviously, telling them near the speakers and while the band was playing was the best, most practical solution they thought about. I also had a security guard throwing a guy on me for no valid reason. I was just there, boogying like you shouldn't boogie to a metalcore band, and a crowdsurfer fell on me, pushed about by a security guard. Some training is in order, folks }

Once every two years, like perfect clockwork, American pop punk heroes All Time Low find their way to the French capital, bringing with them their terrible jokes, the infamous bras on guitarist Jack Barakat's mic stand and their sweet, summery tunes.
Once every two years, like perfect clockwork, I find my way in a sold out, crowded room just for them. I think, just like You Me At Six, I will complain that I'm over them, but the truth is, I never will be. How could I.

The evening starts with American band Swmrs. They are bringing their grungey, punkey tunes to Paris and it works a treat. People were already screaming their lungs out for the tech guy, twenty minutes before they set foot on stage, mind you, but, you know, they're also in it for the actual music. 

It's hard to believe Swmrs are such a young band. It's a thought that usually pops up in my brain when I see a band whose sound is neat and professional, or who seems vaguely confident, but to be quite honest, Swmrs' professional side knocks them all out of the park. They have so much attitude and confidence it's actually unreal. They know how to interact with a crowd, and it looks so natural you'd think it's in their genes. From start to finish, frontman Cole Becker speaks to the audience in impeccable French, with topics ranging from how much they love France to how we can't let fascism win in the next election the way America did.

As much as I've enjoyed their set and as good as their music is (honestly, Miley and Palm Trees are jams), as much as I've appreciated their natural talent at interacting with the audience and making people participate, there was a little too much "jump, now clap, now sing along" to my liking, and I suppose, as a young band, they haven't found the balance between almost begging for the crowd's attention and grabbing it with your music. It's not a fatal flaw, mind you. They're still really good.
I just don't want to clap four times in the same song before embarking on a singalong and jumping duo.

Half an hour later, it's time for All Time Low.

They are only two months away from giving their new album, Last Young Renegade, away to the world, and they are still promoting 2015's Future Hearts - it's the most songs out of it I've heard live in the same set, and I believe most times I've seen them since its release I have just heard Something's Gotta Give and Kids in the Dark. Both songs will get played, of course. 

During Something's Gotta Give, I find myself perched on someone's shoulders and Jack Barakat waves at me from the stage. 2010 me would have died on the spot. (2017 me smiled like a goon)

The truth is, All Time Low, just like You Me At Six, are one of the first bands I have actually obsessed over. I got a copy of Nothing Personal when I went to London, once, and I would listen to it every morning while getting ready for university. They were the leaders of a generation of bands I knew nothing but quickly learnt everything about, a group of bands that mostly toured America during the summer and they embodied the Warped Tour dream better than anyone else. I also had posters of them in my bedroom and we used to write the lyrics to their songs on the white bits of our Converse. We quoted every word to Straight to DVD like we were honorary members of that goddamn band. They were such a major part of our lives. 

And they always will be.

I'm a grown adult and the cool elite probably thinks I should have moved on to different kinds of music. All Time Low are just there for the teeny boppers and the posters, right? They're just one photoshoot away from whatever replaces Smash Hits in this day and age and the mainstream. Apart from the parents accompanying their offspring, I am probably one of the oldest people in the building. 

And I couldn't fucking care less.

Whether I am on the side of the room, losing my voice to Backseat Serenade or A Love Like War, in the middle, blinking back the tears during Missing You, or desperately trying to open up a moshpit to Dear Maria, Count Me In (but maybe not when I am physically removed from the crowd by an unhappy fan with no gig etiquette whatsoever during Lost in Stereo), I am beaming. I don't know every word to every song, especially not the stuff that is on Future Hearts. I probably wished they played more older tunes, because I'm dying to have a boogie to Coffeeshop Soundtrack or Six Feet Under the Stars again, and I can promise you I wish they'd bring back Remembering Sunday so I could butcher it once more. But I'm having such a great time. And it's all that matters, right?

All Time Low know how to give you a good time. Some of their jokes and tropes get a bit gimmicky with time and I don't know how long they can still get away with penis jokes, but hey, for an hour every know and then, I like to believe they can and it's 2010 all over again and they're the funniest people I have ever heard in my life. They know how to get you involved and they know how to grab your attention and absolutely never let it go. They haven't become the band they are by accident or by chance. They have a thing no one else has.

Me and All Time Low have had a rocky relationship. I almost gave up on them in the past, and then I came back for the nostalgia and realised I could never truly let them go. Every time I see them live, it's the celebration of this gig family I have around, it's the celebration of times when we used to wear Glamour Kills from head to toe and when "I just wanna fuck this burrito" was the funniest string of words ever known to man, it's the celebration of the times when a band has taught me that if something made me happy, even just a little, I should grab it and never let it go.

And considering the big smile on my face from start to finish and the joy I had listening to some of my favourite pop punk anthems, I really, really don't want to let All Time Low go.

When bands announce tours, my first reflex is to check out where they are playing in London. I don't even like London that much, but there's something about it, you know. It's the capital, for starters. The biggest city. That's also where my local shows have been for a little over a year. It's where I know the venues best. It's, in a way, another place where I feel like I belong. My love/hate relationship with London usually turns into love again as soon as I walk inside one of its venues. Especially Koko. I love Koko.

I was incredibly proud to see Mallory Knox headline Koko two nights in a row. There's a lot of personal stuff in there, a sort of attachment and pride only twenty nine shows in five different countries can bring. Mostly, there's a brilliant band who I have been lucky and privileged enough to see grow and evolve, and it's always a pleasure seeing them get bigger and play larger venues.

Like Koko.

Two nights in a row.
It's been a week, and thinking about it still makes me a little bit emotional.

Both evenings started with Scottish band Fatherson. I've seen them twice, before - once in Brighton, once in London.
Both times, I had been in two very different frames of mind, but both times, I have found in their music the same feeling I could get if I ever sat down tucked in a warm blanket in front of a fireplace, clutching a hot cup of tea. They're probably the soundtrack I would pick for that activity, come to think of it. They are comforting, they feel like a cuddle.
Koko feels a little bit different - both times I had seen them had happened in smaller rooms, so there is something less intimate about these sets. It still feels lovely and warm, of course, it does - I think the bottom line is that whatever the environment, Fatherson just radiate warmth. They're also brilliant sing along material, when you know the words, like I'm starting to do.
They are, mostly, one of the finest, best bands this country and this scene has to offer. They are everything, all at once. They are warm and delicate. Their music is explosive and sensitive. Ross Leighton's voice is unique, and it gives me chills. Damn. That band is really, really special.

Second up is Lonely The Brave. I had seen Lonely The Brave once before these two days, and I think I just hadn't understood it. It happens, sometimes. I had stood at the back (of Koko, once again), wondering what the hell was going on.
I don't know what changed, since then. Are they an acquired taste? Was I not in the right space of mind?
I just know that on Wednesday and Thursday night, I have heard in David Jakes one of the most beautiful voices I have ever heard, and it feels like a waste of the past three years not acknowledging that, not knowing that. I have heard some beautifully, delicately crafted rock songs, some beautiful pieces of musicianship, songs that are born to become arena or stadium anthems (hello, Backroads - even I knew the words and I can't quite explain why). I have seen a band with a unique stage presence, one that I misunderstood all those years ago because I didn't know the reasons why. I think I've been slightly blown away, and it took me by surprise, but I wish every band who ever walks on a stage could give me the feeling Lonely The Brave did when I saw them last week. Taking me by storm.
Second chances aren't that bad an idea, after all.





And then it's time for Mallory Knox, "my boys" as I call them a little bit too much.
They open with Giving It Up, the explosive, energetic, fiery opening track to their latest record, Wired, and the entirety of Koko immediately starts moving around, jumping, moshing and throwing limbs about. (We only did one night in the crowd, we retreated to one of the side stage balconies for the second evening)
This energy showed by the London crowd will not stop for a minute, and, for an hour and a half, the audience is singing along to every word, bouncing up and down, colliding into each other and getting involved. It feels like a big party, down there, and on the first time, I try my best to bust out my best dance moves - it gets a little complicated as the night progresses and my shoes are literally stuck to the wooden floors, and I am afraid I'll lose them if I try to move.


On stage, all I can see is a band having the time of their life. One thing I've always loved about watching Mallory Knox live is that they only ever radiate happiness. There are many a band I've seen that looked like they would rather have their eyeballs taken out of their sockets with a rusty spoon than be on a stage - the Cambridge boys aren't one of them. For an hour and a half, roughly, their big smiles and enthusiasm are infectious. Not much compares to watching a band having the time of their life.
That's how you end up having the time of your life, too.





Mallory Knox are touring in support of their newest album, Wired, released earlier this year. The new songs are well received by the crowd and words are echoed by over a thousand people every night, showing you that despite what you could have thought, the boys have a faithful following, solid and strong enough to know most words to songs that have been out in this world for barely a month.
I rarely think about it, you know.
They are one of the most discreet bands in the UK scene. They are going strong, going bigger from album to album, but they aren't on every magazine cover or promoted by every media outlet. Granted, they've been in magazines at times and I've heard Better Off Without You on BBC Radio One, but, you know... they don't exactly have the media presence of a band like twenty one pilots, if you know what I mean. They are still fairly small and independent.
And they're still doing extremely well.


I've been following Mallory Knox closely since the day my friend Cat took me to see them at Takedown, in 2012, because she thought they sounded like You Me At Six and I would like it. It's been five years now, twenty nine shows, five countries and enough material to tell you how I have seen this band evolve.
They've always had something. They have always had a stage presence and they have always had a little special thing that made me look twice and listen closely. I couldn't quite place it. Now, this something special has fully grown and developed into confidence. I can tell it in the way they play, in the way they interact with the crowd. They're not a bunch of kids in a rock band anymore, they are grown men who believe the music they do is good and who are proud of what they can produce and achieve. They are confident without being cocky, they have attitude but aren't show offs.





Every time I have seen them over the past five years, every song has been a pleasure to hear live.
I could complain that they seem to have ditched Oceans forever or that they have replaced one of my favourite songs, Heart & Desire, with newbie Falling in Love, but I really don't mind. Every time a song starts, whichever one it is, I just get hit at breakneck speed by how much of a jam it is, how much I love it and, at times, how much I relate to it.
It happens with the older ones, with Lighthouse and with Beggars (still my favourite after all this time).
It happens with songs extracted from Asymmetry, like Shout at the Moon or Getaway.
It even happens with the new songs - they are in my brain and in my life already. It happens when I hear the first notes of Lucky Me or California, and it happens when I realise that the song I've wanted to hear live the most, all night, is Better Off Without You.



Ever since they had announced their two night residency at Koko, I knew seeing Mallory Knox there would be incredibly special. I can try and put words on it. I can tell you it's a pinnacle in five years of following those fine musicians and fine men around. I can tell you it's a victory for UK rock music, because these two nights were all about three incredible UK rock bands putting on one hell of a show. I can tell you many things, and yet none of it would be close enough to the truth.
This is it, guys. Words have failed me.

You know how, about You Me At Six, I said that France had proved that you didn't need to be a lot to make yourself heard?
We had another one of those.

It's a bright, sunny Tuesday and during the evening, Illinois sad boys Real Friends are gracing the Backstage by the Mill with their presence, bringing fellow Americans Microwave in tow.



I had heard and talked about Microwave but didn't really know what to expect of them. For starters, a group of people chanting "Micro-ondes" before the band came on coupled with our sheer inability to call them anything other than the French translation of their name might just be the most French thing this scene has ever done, maybe even more than the times when it was fashionable to bring baguettes to bands.
Second, if we concentrate on the music, well... They kinda blew me away first song on, and I suppose that's what you want from a support band, isn't it? You want them to catch your attention just enough for you to have a good time during that fateful half hour. Well... They did, yeah. They grabbed my attention from the first minute onwards and never let it go for the following... what? Forty minutes, maybe? Their sound is catchy and dancey (or maybe I'll just dance to anything, don't quote me on that) and the lyrics are full of nostalgia and references to Dunkin Donuts, all rounded together by Nathan Hardy's powerful and beautiful voice and I fell in love. I suppose the moral is, maybe always trust the band that's named after a kitchen appliance. They're probably worth your time.





You barely have time to breathe that it's time for Real Friends - if, usually, bands tend to turn up late on stage, Real Friends are of the bright and early kind.
The Americans are touring Europe to promote their newest record, 2016's The Home Inside My Head, and it shows as they open with two new tracks, Empty Picture Frames (the band's most recent single) and Colder Quicker. There's not a lot of us in the Backstage and, truth be told, I have never seen the venue that empty, but everyone is happily bouncing up and down, dancing and echoing all the words.


Real Friends clearly are a band tailor made for singalongs, and they will get a few decent ones during that Parisian show. If oldie Anchor Down didn't get the love and reception I thought it would (or maybe I could hear myself too much), most of the other songs will have their words sang by the French crowd, turning the band's bittersweet tunes into the anthems they deserve to be.


I have a deep, personal attachment to Real Friends. I started listening to them a couple of years ago as I was nursing a broken heart and their words were the only ones that matched how I was feeling. I can't help but being taken back to those times and feel a tug on my heartstrings when I listen to songs like Summer, I've Given Up on You or I Don't Love You Anymore, but hearing them live has the exact opposite effect - I have a big smile on my face and am overwhelmed by the pride of having made it through hell and back. All these songs get played by the band on Tuesday, and, as a surprise encore, we lose our voices and get them to add the heartbreaking Cover You Up to the setlist. (It doesn't stay heartbreaking for a long time as I'm too busy singing along with my mates and laughing because frontman Dan Lambton has the lyrics out on his phone).
This setlist wasn't just made for singalongs - it was a friendly reminder that I'm strong and I made it to the other side just fine, and I'm not a broken girl anymore, but a girl whose favourite songs haven't been ruined by heartbreak, by curling up on a Travelodge floor in tears or by waking up in a panic as I'd fallen asleep listening to them. They're just my favourite songs, full stop, and like every other favourite song of mine, they were meant to sing along to with my friends.



Tuesday was one of those gigs that probably won't go down in history for its turnout, and I doubt it will be cherished by Real Friends as one of their best gigs ever. They probably had a better time in France supporting All Time Low, two years ago. But for us, at least for me, I suppose it will remain somewhere as one of those gigs that were a suspended moment in time, when we got to interact with a band on stage more than you do at your average gig, when we got to be up close and personal with a band that is getting more popular each tour they're doing.

I kinda want to say that I had a blast dancing and singing along and getting really emo with my friends, but that's an easy open door for a terrible "real friends" pun and I'm not going down that road.

Two hours before the gig, I was in my living room, pale as a sheet, coughing my lungs out, stuffing my face with ibuprofene, almost passing out. My brother, looking concerned, asked me if I was sure that I wanted to go. Reasonably, I should have stayed in bed.

Apparently I'm not one for being reasonable. (Now that's what I call edgy)

When we get into La Cigale, first thing we notice is the seats on the sides, that weren't here the last time I visited. Venues get refurbs and no one tells me now? Are you really my friends? Second thing is how empty the building is. Apart from the one day with the unfortunate schedule change at Yellowcard, a couple of years ago, I've never seen La Cigale so empty and it doesn't bode well for the rest of the evening. Third thing is that local act The Earl Grey is already on stage at ten past seven when doors were supposed to be at seven.

The mass of photographers working in the (massive) pit tells me that it's still early in the Frenchies' performance, so I can sit back, relax and enjoy the rest of the ride. As I have probably said before and as anyone who's been involved in this scene long enough will tell you, The Earl Grey have a history of supporting pretty much every band that has played our town. They are a staple band, they are part of our history, they are part of who we are. What I seem to appreciate, recently, is how good they have become, how solid their stage presence is. Their dynamic, energetic pop rock goes down a treat and everyone on the floor bounces up and down when invited by frontman Alex Ragon, happily cheering and celebrating their local scene. 

As Ragon thanks the band's girlfriends, friends and the local photographers, I shed a little tear hearing my friends' names being rightfully glorified and I realise one thing. Just like Chunk! No, Captain Chunk!, extortionate pints and the sheer absence of air conditioning, The Earl Grey are home.

Second up are Reading based The Amazons. When I saw them in November, supporting Jimmy Eat World in the absolutely stunning Troxy, in London, they were still completely unknown. It's only been five months and now, they are starting to make waves. Their self-titled début album is among the most awaited releases of 2017, they are being played on daytime radio (at least across the Channel) and next summer, they will be playing the likes of Glastonbury, Latitude and Reading & Leeds. Not too shabby.

Their task tonight is to carry on the good work The Earl Grey have done and get the crowd ready for their headliners. Tough task? Not really, if I'm honest. Who could resist a boogie to such catchy tunes? Their indie-rock sound is infectious and gets inside of your brain easily - just thinking about them is enough to send the riff to Black Magic spiralling in my mind ad vitam aeternam. In La Cigale, heads are bobbing and feet are tapping on the trampoline-like wooden floor, people are dancing and jumping up and down and, considering the line of people buying merch and queuing to meet the English, it's safe to say the evening was an absolute success for The Amazons. 

Frontman Matt Thomson excitedly tells us he used to be in the crowd for You Me At Six shows, crowdsurfing and moshing back in the day, and that for the band, it's an honour playing with them in Europe.

I'd say it was an honour and a delight for us having them play.

Once I am done choking on my own breath to twenty one pilots' mega hit Stressed Out, You Me At Six take the stage of La Cigale to the title track of their most recent album, Night People. The room may not be packed and the balcony may be closed, but the crowd that has decided to spend their Friday night rocking it out with one of Britain's biggest bands is a loud one.  Old songs, new songs, everything is echoed with enthusiasm and France proves that you do not need to be a lot to make yourself heard. 

From the get go, it's easy to tell the evening is a special one, and the explanation why is given to us by frontman Josh Franceschi just before the last song : "We thought tonight was going to be shit, but this is probably the best show of the tour". 
We thought tonight was going to be shit.

I can't blame them for thinking so, I didn't have high expectations myself.

Not because of the band, Christ no.

Just because we all knew the venue was far from being sold out.

The past few times I have seen You Me At Six live, I was far away from the stage and couldn't see properly but this time, I have one of the best views in the house, I have a full view of the stage (and the band has a full view of my terrible dance moves, sorry pals) and I can see how much the five guys my age I used to adore seven years ago have grown. 

When you were a You Me At Six fan back in 2009-2010, they were all about poppy love songs and inside jokes that were iconic for the fanbase ("what's butter?", anyone?). It was a very youthful thing, a bubble of fun and happiness. They were the poster boys of the late noughties UK rock scene and we all had that red HMV poster up in our bedrooms.

It's been seven years, now, and water has gone under the bridge. My love for You Me At Six has quietened down. It's still there, and one should never be fooled when I pretend I don't care - I love these five more than many things in this world. But it's quieter, the jokes are memories and the poster is rolled up, a souvenir of times past. I don't really obsess over bands anymore, not like that. Instead, I watch them grow and I claim, a tear in my eye, that I am proud of my boys.

Last Friday night, I saw the five guys I used to adore seven, eight years ago, the ones whose faces were everywhere in my pink and orange bedroom, the ones whose interviews I could quote by heart and whose lyrics I wrote all over my notebooks. They have grown up, just like me. They have become a brilliant rock band and I am infinitely proud of them and what they have accomplished.

They are ambitious, You Me At Six, now. Just listening once to 2017's Night People shows it. They want to become a big rock band. 

And they have everything in their power to do it. Their musicianship has become truly brilliant, their sound is neat and of high quality. Franceschi's voice is now as great live as it is on record. They are a band tailor made for the stage, who make it look easy. The awkwardness of their first tours is long gone. The English are confident and ambitious, they have attitude and they have style. They know what they are doing and they are doing it well. I've never heard them sound that good before, that neat, that solid.

Josh Franceschi now knows how to speak on stage, he's grown much more confident as a frontman and a speaker. His speech about how much he loves France and its people, how attached he is to our country (he is part French, as he reminds us) and the Bataclan attacks is welcome by a loud round of applause and tears from the girl in the grey t-shirt and burgundy skirt on the left side of the room.

Their setlists are now longer, and they can go the distance, as easy as one, two, three. They cover all albums except 2008's Take Off Your Colours, which is no surprise, if you know a little bit about them. Hearing anything off it live has become a rarity, and I should probably bury my dream of hearing The Liar and the Lighter live, now. 

Everything else is being played, though. One-off The Swarm, released in 2012 for a ride in Thorpe Park, is a song I often forget about when I think of You Me At Six setlists, and everytime they start playing it, it hits me and my brain goes "Oh, now that's a tune!". Oldies Underdog and Stay With Me are echoed by an enthusiastic crowd, alongside 2011's Bite My Tongue, No One Does It Better, Loverboy or Reckless. Cold Night, the Ballad with a capital B from 2013's Cavalier Youth, sees a wonderful singalong in the audience and is the number one proof that Friday didn't need a packed venue to be loud. 

The main reason You Me At Six are touring, though, is to promote their newest record, Night People, released in January. It's only been three months, mind you. You'd feel like it's been ten years. I didn't know what to expect from the crowd on those tracks and I now know the fans have made it their own and know every word. The stunning Spell It Out is a lovely moment, Swear gets people moving and timidly moshing and Give breaks hearts all over the place. (It's totally becoming one of my favourite You Me At Six songs)

The evening that wasn't meant to be a success has become a triumph and I am in tears of joy as the band leaves the stage, Franceschi carrying a French flag ornated with the Night People logo and a big smile on his face. 

Don't ever let me fool you. 

I love You Me At Six more than the world.

Two things, though : 

a) There are way too many gigs that are being put up and then abandoned by their promoters, these days (the Wonder Years disaster at La Maroquinerie was one, With Confidence at the Espace B was another). How do we make this stop? 

b) Early on during the gig, a girl crowdsurfed and ended up on someone's shoulders towards the front, and if it hadn't been for Josh Franceschi getting a security guy to actually do his job, she could have severely injured herself. The second time someone crowdsurfed, they were pushed back into the crowd, which is extremely dangerous. Overall, security didn't have a full grasp of what they were actually meant to do and it's not the first time this happened in this venue - a memory of Architects' frontman Sam Carter calling out security because they were too rough and almost violent towards crowdsurfers springs to mind. It's about time someone cleans up their act, maybe? It's not the bands' job to instruct security on how to treat gig goers. 

See how I was scared about 2017 because most of my favourite bands had released new albums in 2016 and I didn't know who would be here for me this year? Be still, my little heart. There's plenty of new music for me to dig my teeth in.

ALBUMS & EPs

After finishing the Asymmetry era on a high, we all knew Mallory Knox had the ability to make a big, ambitious rock record to match their big plans. Well, they’ve just gone and done it, and at the same time, they topped every expectation I could have possibly had. Wired might just be the Cambridge boys' best record, and I have no doubt that it’ll become my favourite anytime soon. It’s got everything I love about Mallory Knox’s music. It’s got ginormous choruses I cannot wait to lose my voice to in festival fields and packed venues. It’s got the perfect harmony of Mikey Chapman’s and Sam Douglas’ voices. It’s got a pure, unfaltering energy, from start to finish. It’s also got so much more than that. It’s got riffs all over the place, and let me tell you, Giving It Up into California into Wired is one hell of a way to start a record. Wired is urgent and fast paced, it’s all killer and absolutely no filler - and it’s not just your average big sounding rock record either. It’s got groovier vibes (For You, Come Back Around) that remind me of Oasis at times. The lyrics are more sensitive, more personal, even. Better Off Without You (Citalopram), dealing with bassist Sam Douglas’ anxiety, has to be one of Mallory Knox’s best songs while being one of the most truthful and honest. Wired is the record I wanted Mallory Knox to make without even knowing it.

Today, they’ve been announced as Thursday headliners for 2000 Trees, and recently, they have been added to two major tours (Simple Plan’s fifteenth anniversary tour for No Pads, No Helmets… Just Balls and Enter Shikari’s European stint for the ten year anniversary of Take to the Skies), and I can just feel that Wired is the record that’s going to take these boys to the next level.

Before this, I had just heard of Can’t Swim - mostly because they will be touring Europe alongside Real Friends in April, and only in good terms. The release of their first full length, Fail You Again, in March, seemed like a good reason to finally give a listen to their music. From the get go, I find Fail You Again catchy and energetic, and Christ, I absolutely adore Chris LoPorto’s voice. At times soft and at others gritty, it is unique and stunning. Fail You Again feels like the calm and the storm all at once, with songs that are explosive (All the Moves We Make Are in the Dark, We Won’t Sleep) and others softer and more delicate (Quitting), but it’s Stranger that wins it all and embodies that feeling all at once, starting off slowly only to hit you hard in the chorus. The lyrics deal with the loss of someone (Friend, Molly’s Desk), of oneself and are a journey to find yourself, it seems. Fail You Again is a wonderful début album, and on this one, I’m glad I trusted everyone around me.

Another début album has been given to the world in 2017, courtesy of London based Counterfeit. The band has been making waves recently, and it’s safe to say their first full length, Together We Are Stronger, had been long awaited. It’s one record that does not disappoint. From start to finish, there is no dull time, and every song is energetic, catchy, very in your face and yet, it’s more than that. The best explanation for that is the stunning Lost Everything, grand and soaring all throughout… and rendered unique by the mix of strings and vocalist Jamie Campbell-Bower’s screams. Together We Are Stronger is a record full of urgency, the songs are short and fast paced and it feels like a bomb exploding in your face with every track, every beat of the drums, every riff, every word. It’s an album that manages to surprise you one last time by closing with its slowest, most delicate song, the beautiful Letters to the Lost. Let me tell you, Together We Are Stronger is one great album and most importantly, one I want to hear performed live.

One of the albums I was most excited to hear this year was Sorority Noise's You're Not As ____ As You Think, and I have not been disappointed. Songs about death, guilt, mental health and a friend's suicide. On paper, it sounds very bleak, doesn't it? And yet it's a record that is infinitely comforting, and full of light. It's the way I have always felt about Sorority Noise. Every time I've seen them live, it's how I felt - like something had exploded all around me and for a short amount of time, I wasn't alone, and someone got it. This is how You're Not As ____ As You Think feels, too. It's beautiful and sensitive, positive and honest, and I am extremely grateful we have a band like them to deal with mental health issues in such an honest way. Depression isn't pretty, anxiety isn't just being awkward. Mental health issues are ugly and uncomfortable, and a song like Disappeared depicts it in such a truthful way it hurts and yet, it makes you feel less alone. You're Not As _____ As You Think is an open window into frontman Cameron Boucher's mind, and it's one we desperately needed if we intend on breaking that stigma and make mental health issues valid.


On the 24th of March, I woke up to Northlane pulling a Beyoncé and dropping their fourth full length, Mesmer, as a surprise. And what a brilliant surprise it is indeed. It's catchy all the way through and yet it is technical. It is very atmospheric and yet heavy at times. Vocalist Marcus Bridge has one of the most wonderful voices I've ever heard and his cleans are heaven to my ears. It seems Northlane have found the perfect balance between all the elements I love in metal, blended them together and made the one hell of an album with it all. The lyrics, whether they are about the way we relate to our planet (Solar) or the loss of a loved one are clever and beautiful, and the more personal songs (Heartmachine, Fade, Veridian) are written in a way that can speak to everyone, they're made relatable without being a cliché. It's no secret that Northlane's history has heavily been influenced by Architects, and it's no surprise they would write the late Tom Searle a tribute, and it comes in the form of closer Paragon, an absolutely stunning piece of music that absolutely broke my heart. Overall, there's a positive energy in that record, a sense of wanting to change things but in a very peaceful way. There's something so organic and pure about Northlane that I am loving more and more every day.


Coast To Coast's The Length of a Smile is the best surprise I've had in 2017, in the way that I don't know what I was expecting, but everything has been blown out of the water. This is an incredible EP, full of nostalgia, and Coast To Coast are a band with a wonderful sound. You can hear the pop punk roots, sometimes, but to me, in sound, they're closer to a band like Deaf Havana and no, it's also not Deaf Havana meets pop punk either. It's something that I can't quite describe, that has taken me by surprise and that I have a lot of love and time for.

I used to really, really like Ed Sheeran. I heard You Need Me, I Don’t Need You on the radio, once, before + was released, and I fell for it, hard and headfirst. I saw him live following this, I even met him. And then Don’t happened and I jumped off the bandwagon. Sheeran just released is long awaited third album, Divide, and it’s not the album that is going to make me jump back on the bandwagon. The singles are alright, and there are some good tunes here and there, but it doesn’t really do anything for me anymore. I’ve got to a point where I would probably singalong and not change the channel/station if he came on the radio/TV, but that’s about it. I can’t say Divide is a bad album, it’s alright, not album of the year but not bottom of the industrial sized bin either, but… some lyrics are downright embarrassing, though. In Shape of You, Ed and the girl he has his eye on (whom he probably met in the eighties seeing as a jukebox was involved) go to an all you can eat buffet and, well, they’re “thrifty” so she fills her handbag with food. And they say romance is dead.


So, I've listened to Creeper's Eternity, In Your Arms. And I can't say it's a bad album, because it clearly is not. It's dramatic and vivid, it's cleverly written and it's technically impeccable. You could totally make a musical out of it, complete with dance numbers, and knowing my love for musicals and dance numbers that is a compliment of the highest form coming from me. But apart from the objective, I think I just don't get it? I have no idea what just happened to me. Maybe I'll get it sometime.

MY NEW FAVOURITE ACTS

We'll start with something that is, indeed, all new. Sainte is born from the ashes of We Are The In Crowd, and it's basically WATIC's vocalist Tay Jardine's new musical project. It's absolutely everything I adore in pop music, it’s catchy and and it makes you want to dance in your living room. The music videos are brightly coloured and pop arty and they fill my heart with joy and cater to my love of colour block and brightly coloured make up. Sainte have only released two songs as we speak, Technicolor and, more recently, With or Without Me, and I cannot wait for more music.

The best thing about attending a lot of shows on the same tour can be support bands - outside of seeing your band of choice several times, that is. Going to five shows out of With Confidence's Better Weather tour brought Canadian outfit Safe To Say in my life. They quickly moved on from "the band I'd love to see in Brighton because they'd fit in so perfectly there" to "the band I cannot get enough of" - only me to go see a band for their sugary sweet tunes and to leave a fan of the emo, alt-rock, darker support. I cannot recommend Safe To Say enough if you're a fan of having your heart ripped out of your chest because feelings.

THE PLAYLIST

This month’s playlist includes :