I thought long and hard about this one because, with autumn starting soon, there are many albums I could have looked at and dissected, perfect soundtracks to shorter days and rust-coloured leaves falling off trees, to hot drinks and quieter days. I know it's the second half of September already, but to me, it is still the end of the summer, and I have decided to take a closer look into what I realised, today, is an album that feels nostalgic yet warm and familiar, just like the end of the summer: Knuckle Puck's 20/20.

I like that it somehow coincides with the album's first anniversary, as the Chicago pop-punks' third full-length was released on the 18th of September, 2020. Many things have been said by the scene about this record, a scene who tends to live in the past and believe better days have come and gone, who likes the first album, sometimes the second, and struggles to connect to the third and beyond because, just like in real life, change is a tricky concept in pop-punk. Not that Knuckle Puck have dramatically changed since the start of their career, since their first EPs and the critically acclaimed Copacetic, which helped them rise to fame in 2015. It's just that years have passed since those first songs, those angrier tracks, and, as humans evolve, they have different things on their minds. I'm not the same person I was in 2015, and, in that regard, I would never expect my favourite bands to be the same.

I like that it somehow coincides with the album's first anniversary, as the Chicago pop-punks' third full-length was released on the 18th of September, 2020. Many things have been said by the scene about this record, a scene who tends to live in the past and believe better days have come and gone, who likes the first album, sometimes the second, and struggles to connect to the third and beyond because, just like in real life, change is a tricky concept in pop-punk. Not that Knuckle Puck have dramatically changed since the start of their career, since their first EPs and the critically acclaimed Copacetic, which helped them rise to fame in 2015. It's just that years have passed since those first songs, those angrier tracks, and, as humans evolve, they have different things on their minds. I'm not the same person I was in 2015, and, in that regard, I would never expect my favourite bands to be the same.

On my side of the ocean, I have instantly clicked with 20/20 and ranked it pretty high in my list of albums from the worst year the world has seen. The only sort of complaint I had was that it was released at the end of the summer, at a time of year when the days shorten, and you have fewer occasions to be outside and soak up the sun if you live in Europe, when all I wanted was to blast it in my brother's car, windows down, driving on countryside roads with my heart-shaped sunglasses and my arm hanging outside, a little kid making waves with the wind, forever. It was almost a year in the making, but it was worth it. Through research, I discovered this idea was a feeling the band wanted to instil in their sound. Music to listen to with the windows down. I guess great minds think alike.

If you have paid even the tiniest bit of attention to mainstream music and Billboard charts this year, there is a name you are likely to have noticed: Olivia Rodrigo. Originally known for her portrayal of Nini Salazar-Roberts in the Disney+ show High School Musical, The Musical: The Series, the now-eighteen-year-old dramatically rose to fame after she released her first single, drivers license, a ballad about adolescent heartache. Since then, she has exploded all over the pop music landscape, performing at the BRIT Awards, going on Saturday Night Live, receiving three VMAs only last week, and breaking a wild amount of streaming records in no time, including the biggest first week for a song on both Spotify and Amazon Music. Her debut full-length, SOUR, came out in May and is rumoured to receive Grammy nominations in 2022.

The reason why Olivia Rodrigo's name and music seeped into an alternative scene that generally pays little to no attention to the mainstream lies in the third single she released, good 4 u. An eviscerating track about an ex-significant other who, despite claims of loving her, left and feels nothing at all following the split while she is suffering, good 4 u strikes as one of the most energetic songs on SOUR, complete with electric guitars and a true pop-punk feel to it.

Which is what certain people have had an issue with.

Ever since its release, early in May, good 4 u has been heavily compared to one of the biggest classics in the pop-punk universe, Paramore's Misery Business. Rodrigo has then been accused of plagiarism by many angry fans, and the conversation has only increased since the track's songwriter credits have been granted to Hayley Williams and Josh Farro, the minds behind Misery Business. They now receive a share of the royalties, which were rumoured to have amounted to over a million dollars. 

Before we go any further and dissect what's going on, I will admit one thing: I personally do not hear the resemblance between Misery Business and good 4 u. Maybe it's a shortcoming on my end, but when I first heard Olivia's song, I thought it was fun and catchy- watch me play this on loop for the rest of forever. My brain never thought about Paramore. Yes, both tracks showcase pop-punk energy and are both sung by women with impressive voices, but that's as far as the similarity ends for me. I do love the mash-up, though.

So...Did Olivia Rodrigo steal from Paramore?

I am no music specialist, nor can I play Wonderwall to save my life, but from research, my understanding is that both songs share the same chord progression. For the non-musically inclined like myself, a chord progression is a series of chords in a specific order, based on a scale. As pointed out by many people across the planet, you cannot copyright a chord progression. Since notes and chords are not infinite, it's more than likely that artists will use similar chord progressions in their careers. In this video I watched, it was explained how the progression used in the choruses of both good 4 u and Misery Business represents approximately 2% of all songs from Billboard's Year-End Hot 100 from 1990 to 2016, meaning that they are not the only songs you will have heard on the airwaves that share the same chord progression and maybe vague melody. The list includes artists such as Gavin DeGraw, Fergie, Rihanna, Taylor Swift, Green Day, or Nickelback. The specific examples pointed out by the video were Green Day's Boulevard Of Broken Dreams and Taylor Swift's We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together. Seeing as Boulevard Of Broken Dreams is sung by a man to a slower tempo, we don't associate it with any of the other songs on the list. The same goes for Taylor Swift's pop number. The main reason why good 4 u and Misery Business are linked is that they belong to the same genre and share a similar vibe, aesthetic, and electric guitars.

Did Olivia Rodrigo draw inspiration from Paramore? She could have, especially if we take into account the fact that both her team and Paramore's were in contact prior to the album release. But technically, good 4 u can hardly be called an example of plagiarism.

This time last week, there was something so incredibly full of serotonin about saying Slam Dunk Festival was upon us and, a few days after the last notes resonated in Hatfield Park, there is something almost bittersweet about it being over. I know I waited for the return of my favorite festival for almost a year and a half, and now I am back in my tiny countryside village, I miss it already. If it wasn't for the collection of colourful bruises all over my arms and legs, I would be ready to go back. (Maybe give my body a chance to rest first.)

As explained last week, I decided to fight my hardest to attend Slam Dunk Festival in the United Kingdom, travel restrictions and all, because at this time of year, there is nowhere else I would rather be. I have said many times that I have been at the event for the past ten years, and it simply would not feel right to not be there. It truly is my second home. I have always thought that, were I to move abroad, far from European borders, I would still try and find a way to come back for the May bank holiday, just so I could see my favourite bands tear it up in the most special festival the UK has to offer.

With no further ado, let's look back on the artists I watched over the weekend and the shenanigans I found myself getting involved in.

I had briefly heard of For You The Moon on social media, as the four-piece is signed to Slam Dunk Records, and the preview of one of their singles posted by the label sounded right up my alley, catchy and emotional all at once. On a grey Saturday morning, while I am treating myself to breakfast chips, they are the perfect band to start my comeback into the festival world. Their natural charm and easy communication with an already large crowd draw me in, and their tunes make me quietly boogie on the side. Down the front, close to the barrier, there seem to be a few fans who know their lyrics, and, after a set as energetic as this one, there is no doubt they will have left Leeds and Hatfield with a lot more. Now, the last thing on my mind is: is the name a Basement reference?

Blood Youth has always been the kind of name I would hear everywhere, see on every festival line up or touring with every band and, despite me seeing them a few times before them, I only really discovered them when they toured alongside Bury Tomorrow in December 2019. I objectively do not know how well-known they were before this tour, but there was a fearlessness about them, complete confidence in what they were presenting as a band, and it was downright impressive. They had something special, they were something special, and it seemed as though they knew it. They were always on my list of bands to watch at Slam Dunk, but they became essential after their frontman Kaya Tarsus announced the festival would be his last shows as part of the band, and I wanted to participate in the goodbye. Due to my apparent inability to read train times, I only managed to catch the last few songs of their Hatfield set, but it was enough for me to be blown away and emotional all at once. Considering the sight of a packed tent at eleven in the morning, I would say Blood Youth has nothing to be afraid of in the future. All these people, singing loud, cheering, being present- it's obvious they aren't going anywhere.

In Leeds, I called Roam my "test set." Pre-pandemic, I was always used of being in the middle of the crowd, a seasoned moshpit gal, if you will, and I had no idea how things would be after a year and a half long break. How would I deal with such large amounts of people? Like a charm, apparently. Would my body be fit enough to do what I used to do? Even better, imagine that! While I was having the time of my life, jumping around with other people, and while I was crying to Playing Fiction, overwhelmed by how genuinely happy I felt, on stage, it seemed like Roam had never gone anywhere, never undergone such a long break. Watching them tear it up on the main stage with the same joyful and contagious energy they have always shown felt like coming back home. Roam is one of those bands I primarily discovered live, one roasting Tuesday evening in Birmingham, on a summer tour with As It Is, seven years ago. It's their stage presence that stole my heart, and it's the unshakeable knowledge I will always have the time of my life at their shows that keeps me coming back. There is never any doubt whenever Roam announces a tour I can attend- where else in the world would I be? And on an early afternoon set at the weekend, at lunchtime, there was nowhere else you could have found me than in the crowd, and then on top of it when Head Rush found its way into a setlist already packed with hits. It's not really a Roam set if I don't decide that the bridge in Head Rush is my time to shine. 

Rumours about the secret guest had been flying for days on end, prior to Slam Dunk. Would it be metalcore titans Bring Me The Horizon? Would it be the excellent Frank Carter & The Rattlesnakes, fresh off yet another Reading & Leeds set? Would it be Neck Deep, one of the biggest rumours, sparked by drummer Dani Washington asking fans on Twitter whether they would attend the event? As guessed by many people and as hinted at by the festival's social media team starting a related post with the word "Obviously," it turned out to be pop-rock legends McFly. I think, even before they hit the stage in Leeds, we all knew. There was the odd person still wishing Neck Deep would pop up on that tiny stage, but we all knew the next half-hour or so would consist of all of us singing along to Star Girl, Five Colours In Her Hair, or All About You, and I think we all knew it would mean the world to us. It's absolutely crazy to me how well they fit in, how all of us, even the people in their hardcore band t-shirts, knew every word to every song and gave it their all, as if McFly playing Slam Dunk made all the sense in the world. I personally had not seen them live since the original McBusted tour, if that even counts, which means a minimum of seven years, and Saturday was a reminder of how utterly brilliant they are. I believe it takes a special kind of band to be able to write songs everyone will know the words to and love, as they have done their whole career, and I now believe it takes a special kind of a something to fit in at an alternative festival when your discography once featured Taio Cruz and you're squeezed between heavier bands. Watching McFly with one of my friends, singing along, crowdsurfing to Five Colours In Her Hair, dancing around, undoubtedly scratching parts of my vocal cords- it all means more to me than I ever will be able to tell, and I don't think I will ever forget it.

In Leeds, I decided to watch the ending of As It Is' set after seeing McFly, and as soon as I reached the bottom of that hill, I heard frontman Patty Walters talking about a song they had played every time they had graced a Slam Dunk stage, and how he wanted to see as many crowdsurfers as possible. Believe me, it didn't take me long to run into that moshpit and fly over the audience to Never Happy Ever After's Dialtones. In Hatfield, I had only just walked out of the first aid tent and I was eating a pizza throughout most of their set, but I had a grand old time singing along between mouthfuls regardless. Whatever the setting and the weather, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that As It Is belongs on the biggest of stages. I hadn't taken the time to sit back and watch them in quite a long time, I don't think I had even seen them since the departure of founding member and second vocalist Ben Langford-Biss, and their charisma is still unmatched. There is something about them that draws you in, and they have a definite power and hold over their audience, even when they play recent and brand new tracks. Both days, their performance was flawless, and it felt like rediscovering them. In Hatfield, Patty dedicated The Stigma to anyone who was ever made to feel like they weren't good enough, and it didn't take more than that for me to start bawling my eyes out for the next three minutes or so. See, the first time I saw As It Is happened because I jumped on a coach and tried to find comfort in a pop-punk band when a boy broke my heart. I don't know what happened on Sunday, but I know As It Is will always be a comforting presence to me, and that's more than enough.
(Disclaimer: Yes, I ended up in the first aid tent again. I got much too hot after Roam's set and I wasn't dressed appropriately for the weather, and I simply needed a time out and some air. Once again, the medics were amazing.)

As I had explained in my preview post, Frank Turner And The Sleeping Souls were one of the acts I was most excited about, and some of it lay in one of my favourite songs on the whole entirety of planet Earth, no exaggeration, Get Better. Recognising its first notes as soon as Frank and his musicians walked on stage was a treat. I am usually a firm believer in saving the best for last, but to me, after everything the world has gone through these past eighteen months, watching someone open a set with an unabashedly optimistic song was nothing short of a power move. It truly felt like, during the next forty, fifty minutes or so, all of us, we could get better, because we weren't dead yet. There is always a sense of belonging somewhere when you see Frank Turner live, wherever in the world you may be. I saw him play Pukkelpop at 1am on the rainiest Saturday night, I probably had a language barrier with everyone in the crowd, but I still felt like I belonged somewhere, and nothing could dislodge me as long as Frank was on stage. Slam Dunk gave me the exact same feeling: I was by myself in a crowd, but I was exactly where I should be, surrounded by people who understood my love for the man behind the guitar and the folk songs. Watching Frank Turner live is always a treat of the highest order, in every aspect. It makes you laugh, it tugs at your heartstrings, it makes you smile and, if you're me, it reminds you that "I want to see people crowdsurf" will always be your kryptonite.

After fighting against the elements and the lack of Internet connection at the merch table to buy myself a Lizzy Farrall pin, I ended up at the Key Club Stage watching her and finally hearing songs off of Bruise live. I could sum this up in three words: WHAT A TREAT. Her debut album was one of the biggest surprises of 2020 for me, the kind of record I wasn't expecting to love as much as I do, and hearing those songs performed live was the cherry on the loveliest cake, purple frosting and all. As I recently explained here, I am drawn into Lizzy's world because her music and her artistry feel like being invited into someone else's unique corner of the universe, and a live performance only adds more layers, intricacies, and details to it all. It's almost as if, on a stage, everything that makes her art so special comes alive in brighter colours and bolder sounds. Lizzy Farrall is an incredible performer and singer, charismatic, energetic, and humble all at once, and now I am along for the ride, I am excited to see where she is going to go. With live experiences like Slam Dunk on Sunday, the sky is the limit.

I guess there was a lot of excitement and expectations surrounding Trash Boat's first live performances following the release of their third record, 2021's Don't You Feel Amazing. The full-length is so different from everything they have done before, in every aspect, from the sound to the lyrical content and the way they present themselves as a band. How would it translate to a stage? How would it blend with their earlier sound, which lay somewhere on the heavier side of the pop-punk spectrum? And, as they were playing a set on stages headlined by metalcore monsters While She Sleeps and Bury Tomorrow as well as following British hardcore legends Your Demise, how were they going to be treated by those fans? If anyone worried- there was no need. Trash Boat navigated that stage and environment as if they were born doing it, and, maybe they weren't, but they were definitely born for it, this much I'm sure. The older songs, namely fan favourites Tring Quarry and Strangers, mixed flawlessly with the newer sounds, and I will go as far as saying that after the success of the past weekend, Trash Boat might be one of the most exciting bands in the world right now. Yes, I still kinda wish Dan Campbell had been present to do his feature on Strangers, but we got As Everything Unfolds' Charlie Rolfe on Bad Entertainment, so I can't complain at all. 

Last week, I admitted that I had entirely under-appreciated We Are The In Crowd the first time around, and I was grateful for a second chance. That second chance came in the form of a mid-afternoon set under the scorching sun in Hatfield, and I will honestly say the main reason why I stood so close to the stage was to get in the shade. Weather aside, I had the most brilliant time discovering how many of these songs I knew off by heart, and there was something deeply cathartic about singing or screaming along to Never Be What You Want or The Best Thing (That Never Happened). I don't know who my brain dedicated those tracks to, I don't know who the prick was, but my insides definitely had some bones to pick. Watching them perform flawless renditions of their immense pop-punk tracks got me wondering, you know- why were they the kind of band it was cool to dislike back in the day? Why were some of us blind to how wildly talented they are? Why did I get caught and carried away, and why did I not appreciate them? We Are The In Crowd are back, better than ever, they are giving themselves a second chance at this whole being in a band thing, and the universe grants me a second chance to learn how to love them. What else could I possibly want?

A decade and then some ago, I attended Slam Dunk for the first time, which also meant seeing Mayday Parade perform live for the first time. I remember it almost as if it was yesterday. I was a baby fan, I had an awful fringe and the remains of an equally awful bleach job going on, I was on barrier on the side, and Josh Franceschi (You Me At Six) performed Three Cheers For Five Years with them. Ten years down the line, I have healthier hair and a better sense of style, and I still got barrier on the side at their Hatfield set, just for old times' sake. I stayed in the crowd in Leeds, jumping in moshpits as soon as they were opening up next to me and crowdsurfing to Jamie All Over. Back when they released Integrity Blues, I remember reading a Jimmy Eat World interview asking them about being a reliable band, one of the most reliable bands in the scene, actually, and if that meant losing sexiness along the way, it was fine, because reliable is a fact, whereas sexy is an opinion. And that interview came back to me while I was watching Mayday Parade for, I believe, the twenty-something time in my life. They, too, in their own soft, comforting, and deeply wholesome way, are one of the most reliable bands in the scene. Whatever they do, wherever they go, whatever they write about, you know they will always make you feel things, and you will find that deep sense of comfort whenever they are around. They are there, consistent, good, and incredible live performers to top it all off. And the thing with reliability is, you tend to take it for granted. I have learnt not to anymore, but, just in case you do. Mayday Parade are here, unfailingly here. But maybe in a world where everything is going down the drain on a daily basis, having something so stable is the greatest gift of all. I don't know when they will be touring Europe next, when they will be releasing new music next. I don't know the timeline or what the future is made of. But I know Mayday Parade will be here, somewhere, their music bringing me softness and comfort, joy and positivity, an outlet for my emotions, even if I have no clue why I cried that much to Piece Of Your Heart in Hatfield. And sometimes, knowing something will never fail you, because, in the past ten years, Mayday Parade have absolutely never failed my heart, is everything. 

When I ran into my lovely friend Alice on Saturday morning, she asked me who I was most excited to see, and I don't think I hesitated much before I replied State Champs. I have been vocal about my love for the New York lot over the past few years as well as the positive impact their music has had on me, specifically their latest full-length, Living Proof. Considering the size of the crowd and the instant energy in the moshpits, both days, with everyone pushing, shoving, surfing, and singing along, it feels safe to say I wasn't the only one who was beyond excited to see State Champs play. The audience action is relentless for an hour, both nights, and I end up with my arms and legs covered in bruises, with beer all over me (you could have thought it was raining when I crowdsurfed to Secrets), I had hair ripped out of my scalp in Leeds as well as someone wiping alcohol off of my forehead in Hatfield- those were hectic shows. Which was exactly what we all needed, after all this time- to be awarded an hour in our lives during which we could let loose and pretend like nothing happened and we weren't all broken beyond repair. The band gets to play their newest single, the excellent Just Sound, for the first time, as well as brand new track Outta My Head, which gets such an enthusiastic reception in Hatfield you could have thought it was a fan-favourite already. I guess that, despite the completeness of my own love for State Champs, I had never seen it was the same for everyone else. Being in the middle of the action those two afternoons, it never feels like someone got lost or someone was just waiting for whoever was next. It always felt like we were all here for the same reason, a part of something bigger than us, and it was everything I could have possibly wanted.

As a long-time Bury Tomorrow fan, I had questions preceding these Slam Dunk sets, and, just like many of their other fans' interrogations, they revolved around where the band would go after the departure of founding member and vocalist Jason Cameron, a few months prior. When I turn up at the Jagermeister stage in Hatfield, the tent is packed and the singalongs are deafening, and, I think all of us, we left knowing there was never any need to worry about the future, even after such an Earth-shattering change in the line-up. To me, Bury Tomorrow has always represented some sort of "hell or high water" energy- whatever happens, they will be here, and they will fight, and they will not budge, and they will stand strong. Maybe it stems from what the first time I followed one of their tours meant to me, or maybe it stems from who they are as a band, a group of fighters who never let anything bring them down and, at the same time, are incredibly vocal and vulnerable about their tough times. About halfway through the set, frontman Dani Winter-Bates reflects on the changes undergone by the outfit and how scared they were about their future, and dedicates Lionheart to the fans. It had been a while since I had heard this song performed live, despite eagerly waiting for it, and next thing I know, I ran through that moshpit and jumped on top of that crowd like my life depended on it. And then, if you want the truth, the cold hard truth, and nothing but the truth, I had to sit down during Black Flame to cry it all out, because I found myself so goddamn overwhelmed by how much I love, admire, and respect the group of men in front of me. I don't know what's going to happen in the future. I don't know if the musicians lending their voices and guitar skills to the band, whose names I couldn't find, will remain a permanent part of Bury Tomorrow. But I know that the future is going to be loud as fuck, heavy as hell, emotional, vulnerable, and the strongest it's ever been. I have never had any doubts about Bury Tomorrow. They just don't give up.

Can I be really, painfully honest with you all? So far, it doesn't seem like I have clicked nor connected with While She Sleeps' most recent material, the still great Sleeps Society, as much as I do with their previous albums, but despite personal feelings, there is no way in hell I would have missed them headline a stage at Slam Dunk. Just like other bands I saw over the weekend, While She Sleeps are a band I mostly fell in love with through live performances. The first time I saw them was at Paris' Damage Festival, and despite me being sick, their set is one of my most vivid memories of the day because of how brilliant it was. Since then, I have stuck around, travelled for them, and made them a priority on festival outings. Slam Dunk was no different, and, whenever I press play on Sleeps Society again and finally learn to appreciate it, it will be down to my favourite festival. If there is one thing Sleeps do better than most bands in the heavy scene, it's writing an anthem. Because that's what their music truly is, at its core. A collection of anthems bigger than the Solar System, written for a generation of people who are a little disgruntled by the world around them and are trying to find a sense of understanding and belonging somewhere. New or older, everything they play in Leeds is immediately echoed by a crowd of adoring fans, who know every song like the back of their hand, and, in their heart of hearts, truly believe that "This is Sleeps society," "I'm not anti-social, I'm anti-bullshit," "You're being brainwashed," or "Silence speaks volumes." There has always been an undeniable truth to While She Sleeps' message, and it resonates in their audience. No one's pretending, no one's lying, no one's playing games. While She Sleeps live is an experience in raw honesty, soundtracked by some of the biggest and most anthemic songs in the genre, carried by a group of men with endless amounts of talent and energy. 

Every time I listen to Holding Absence's self-titled debut record, I feel taken back to what remains one of the most life-affirming live shows of my existence: their headliner at London's Scala in December 2019. I turned up at that show feeling down on myself and still reeling from what I would call an emotional meltdown, for lack of a better phrase, and left feeling loved more than I thought was possible and almost believing I was everything and could do whatever I set my mind to. Watching Holding Absence, that night, felt like an emotional reset, and, almost two years down the line, the feeling is here to stay. I believe I missed the opening track in their Hatfield performance, the excellent Celebration Song, but it didn't hinder the experience in the slightest. There is such truly positive and kind energy emanating from the Welsh lot that you cannot help but feel like your problems don't matter, like you can leave them at the door and get a well-deserved break from everything that holds you down. Sometimes, I think about the band I once saw open for We Are The Ocean's farewell tour, four years ago, the band no one knew yet but we saw were special. Almost half a decade down the line, I can see my prediction was right: Holding Absence are beyond special. Their songs, which are all beautifully written and larger than life, their humility, their genuine kindness, and their flawless live performance are going to take these boys into the stratosphere, and, pardon my French, but I cannot fucking wait for it to happen.

Watching Boston Manor live always brings back a series of memories. The first time I saw them, playing an acoustic set in support of Speak Low If You Speak Love in London. The man running on crutches in the circle pit at Slam Dunk 2019 and the way my ankle hit the barrier when I flew over the crowd. The adrenaline of crowdsurfing at their Electric Ballroom show in 2018. The lady with the plate of nachos unknowingly standing in the middle of the moshpit at the Good Charlotte show. The memories are many, a whole family of them, and the new member, hailing straight from Slam Dunk Festival, is me and my friend Tosca, dancing in the back of the crowd while Everything Is Temporary was being played on stage. Unsure about the band's third record, GLUE, I wondered how the songs would come to life at shows, and I am now on my way to being converted, which is everything I could have possibly wanted from this live experience. Boston Manor is a band that gives it all, as you can see when frontman Henry Cox doesn't hesitate to jump in the crowd and get up close and personal with everyone several times. They are a band who went from a late morning main stage slot to headlining a stage and they perform like it still isn't big enough for them, like they want to grow even bigger and play even bigger sets and bigger stages, like they still have something to prove. And the main thing that's been proven to me, on a shockingly warm September night in Hatfield, is that I can see them be on these bigger stages soon, and that if they can convert me to an album I was unsure about, they can probably convince the whole world to hop in for the ride. 

The time is upon us, and it feels bloody fantastic to say it: Slam Dunk Festival is this weekend! 

I have attended Slam Dunk every year since 2011, since the time I still used the Eurostar to visit England and used to be mesmerised by London. The only reason I missed the festival was that a certain pandemic the world is tired of stopped it from happening, and I was eagerly waiting for the British government to update their policies on international travel just so I could make it. (I'm pleased to report I am typing this from a Travelodge room, meaning I have made it inside the United Kingdom in one piece.)