On the eleventh of January 2010, English band You Me At Six released their sophomore album, Hold Me Down. Their first major label release, it reached number five on the UK Albums Chart and is certified gold in the country. To celebrate its tenth anniversary, the band embarked on a series of shows across the United Kingdom, where they would play it in its entirety, front to back, and it was an opportunity I simply could not miss.

At the time of release, I was already a You Me At Six fan and had seen them live for the first time, as main support on Paramore's Brand New Eyes tour. A month later, Hold Me Down hit the shelves, and I remember buying it in London, where my older brother took us for a weekend. I left an East London HMV branch with a pile of CDs the height of the Eiffel Tower, glad to finally have access to music that was not available in my rock-deprived country, and it included several copies of Hold Me Down- I had friends who wanted their own too. In June of that same year, You Me At Six played the Nouveau Casino, in Paris, as part of a headline European tour, a show and a day that would mark a permanent change in my life, but I didn't know yet, at the time. How could I? In the meantime were some of the hardest times in my life, only the start of them, it seemed, and Hold Me Down was one of the records I used to play every day in an attempt to stay afloat. It would spin in my little stereo every morning before university and, chances are, it would also play in the shiny blue iPod my friend's then-boyfriend had given me because he didn't have any use for it in the end. It would be my comfort every time I felt down, the music I would turn on loud, the cliché of the teenager slamming the bedroom door because mum and dad just don't understand, though the issues ran much deeper.

I have been a You Me At Six fan for twelve years of my life now, and I don't want to say I have had a love-hate relationship with them because it isn't true. I simply am a human being, and I relate to sort of their art in different, closer ways than others. An album like Hold Me Down will forever be a prominent part of the tapestry of my life, a visible piece of the puzzle. It's a time capsule of the sweetest kind. Listening to it takes me back to the music videos, and all the little things we used to watch on YouTube, the running jokes that only mean something to the old-timers, things about ice cream being too cold, what's butter, something about sheep in a field, the Liquid Confidence behind the scenes footage and the JLS dance moment. (I don't actually know if this bit was ever iconic to the fanbase as a whole, but, just like the kids say, it lives rent-free in my mind. Unfortunately, it doesn't seem to be on YouTube anymore.)

On the morning of the show, I sat down in St. Pancras Station, in London, in front of the Starbucks no one can ever find when I tell them, and I played Hold Me Down in preparation for the show, something to get me hyped up. Playing The Blame Game came around, and I felt tiny tears, almost invisible, insignificant to anyone but me, during the line "You hold me down by keeping me around," and I realised I had never really understood that line before. There is something magical about finding new meaning in art that has been an ever-present part of your existence, deep in your blood, for the past eleven and a half years of your life.

The show was held at Kingston's Pryzm and was, once again, organised by the still absolutely amazing Banquet Records. I don't think I could praise them anymore- they truly are the best thing since sliced bread (and that's a French person saying that.) A night that, a decade ago, would have started in the daytime, queuing against all sorts of ludicrous weather, was birthed in the Wetherspoons pub across the street this time around, in front of a glass of Kopparberg's Cherry Rum. Nineteen, twenty-year-old me would have loved the barrier. (She even kinda threw a tantrum on Tumblr about it once because she was upset, back in the day, but that's a shameful story for another lifetime.) Thirty-one-year-old me wanted to crowdsurf and reclaim the music she thought had been tainted by someone else's influence.
Never again.
Hold Me Down is mine. This is not a proprietary statement. It's the admittance that nevermind what other people did to me, nevermind the stains they left on my life, music that is pretty much part of my DNA cannot be touched nor removed. It is mine for as long as I choose.

For all those reasons, I knew I would get emotional during You Me At Six's set. It's not even the cliché of me crying for no valid reason, bawling my eyes out because why the hell not, I love this song, or this child on TV at Christmas time is just so stinking cute. It's a mixture of nostalgia, melancholy, pure joy, and appreciation of how far I've come since I was a nineteen-year-old girl with a bad fringe who thought she was so hard when Sean Smith's part came on during The Consequence. Funnily enough, that's the song during which I started crying. The Consequence. The first goddamn song on the album. Even for me, that's a new record. They were about two lines into it when I felt tears welling up in my eyes, and they were not to stop for most of the set. This album is a part of me, it's in my bones. As of last Friday, I have seen You Me At Six live twenty-three times, unless I am awful at math and remembering things, and I have heard Underdog in the flesh a similar amount of times. The nineteenth of November 2021 was the first time it made me cry.

Hold Me Down also takes me back to the questionable art every one of us used to make back in the day, those lyric drawings in several fonts that were plastered all over Tumblr. There are so many fitting one-liners in Hold Me Down, and I know I made several of these drawings. Lyrically, this album will stand the test of my time because of those clever, sometimes sassy one-liners. "I've got real big plans and such bad thoughts" (The Consequence) // "I'm down, down, but definitely not out" (Underdog) // "You hold me down by keeping me around" (Playing The Blame Game) // "And everybody was kissing on fire, and we all got burnt" (Safer To Hate Her) // "You've got nothing to lose, except for me and you" (Liquid Confidence) // "Dearest enemy, you should have never trusted me, you bitch" (Contagious Chemistry) // "I'm a man of my words and my words will never change" (Trophy Eyes) // "Remember when you were my boat and I was your sea, together we'd float so delicately" (Fireworks) Just to quote a few. (The Contagious Chemistry one is admittedly not something we would use in lyrics in 2021, but it was my favourite song back in the day, so I had to include it.)
(Also, can we talk about the fact that Trophy Eyes, as in, the band, named themselves after that specific song?)

I found this on Pinterest, so, unfortunately, I don't know who made this.

During the build-up to the show, out of complete superstition, I did not say anything about it online, as if me being openly excited about something carried the risk of ruining it. On the day of, when I was safely on English land, I made up for lost time, and I think everyone who came across me was sick to the back teeth of hearing me talk about the one song I was most excited to hear: There's No Such Thing As Accidental Infidelity. It received its first-ever live performance on Friday night and, despite frontman Josh Franceschi warning the crowd of potential rustiness, it sounded just as perfect as I always imagined it to be. I paid a tribute to my decade-ago self in today's fashion and crowdsurfed to Aled Phillips' part while wearing a Kids In Glass Houses t-shirt. Some parts of yourself can never die.

After finishing up with the album's closing track, the wonderfully heartbreaking Fireworks, You Me At Six came back for an encore composed of SUCKAPUNCH, Lived A Lie, Take On The World, and Beautiful Way. Did I emotionally need it? No. I would have been content leaving the room after the last notes of Fireworks. Did I mind? Also, no. Despite it not being my favourite song, SUCKAPUNCH shines in a live setting, and its packed energy is mindblowing. Lived A Lie is one of the band's most fun singles. I got someone to carry me on their shoulders during Take On The World, and my love for the track only grows. Beautiful Way is one of You Me At Six's best recent numbers, one of the reasons why I still love them, why I would still go the extra mile for them. Maybe I wouldn't queue at stupid o'clock in the snow anymore, warming my hands up in an Asda bathroom in suburban Edinburgh while wondering if my plane home is going to leave the next morning. Maybe I wouldn't chase the elusive barrier anymore. But I will always want to celebrate the shiny parts of my life and, as far as puzzle pieces go, You Me At Six are pretty golden.

The next step in this lifelong celebration takes place in Paris, in March 2022, and you're all invited. It's followed by another show that will shatter my heartstrings in the loveliest manner, the tenth anniversary of the band's third record, Sinners Never Sleep, in June.

The last show we attended during our six-day trip to the United Kingdom was also the largest one, and it consisted of Bring Me The Horizon tearing up the O2 Arena on the last night of their Post Human Tour.

I have spoken about Bring Me The Horizon on several occasions in the past, and they were one of my very first dips into the pool of metalcore, over a decade ago. I remember them being one of the bands that were simply too heavy for me, at first. I played Chelsea Smile on YouTube, liked the guitar, but did not understand why there was any need for screaming. I waited it out a bit, more or less gracefully, and I saw someone share their song It Never Ends on Tumblr when it first came out. I clicked on it because I had a spare four minutes, and that was it. I understood. Ten years down the line, they have become unbelievably special to me as something I share with my older brother, who loves them and has travelled to see them with me several times. Watching them again after over two years was going to be special, I knew it.

Caught off guard by how early doors were and how long the queues of the standing area tend to be at the O2 Arena, we missed Nova Twins and only made it in ten minutes before You Me At Six were due to play. However, it was surprisingly easy to get to the front of the crowd.

Ah, You Me At Six.
I know I have spoken about them before, and most conversations led by me revolve around my deep and endless love for their earlier material, particularly their sophomore album Hold Me Down, which remains one of my all-time favourite records. Though I am not the girl who used to don their merch constantly and listen to their music every day on the way to university anymore, I still keep a close eye on what they do and keep up with their every release. Their music is like an old friend to me, the kind you don't always see or talk to every day, but when you do, it's like no time at all has passed.
Back in January, the Brits released their seventh full-length effort, SUCKAPUNCH. I have to admit some of it did not click with me as much as some of their older stuff, but when they are on stage in front of me, it doesn't matter. Who cares how many times I have listened to these songs, and who cares if they tug at my heartstrings or give me special feelings? I don't. Because the performance delivered by You Me At Six outshines everything else. See, when I first started listening to them, when I first saw them, when I saw them play large shows, I could tell how special they were, but damn- that O2 Arena set was beyond words. Music-wise and, undoubtedly, fandom-wise, they are light years away from Bring Me The Horizon, but they command the room with the kind of ease that forces admiration. It could be down to years of practice, years of cutting their teeth on the road and building their reputation as one of the finest rock bands in the UK. But it could also be due to natural talent and charisma, and I like to think it's a little bit of both.
The setlist is largely composed of tracks extracted from SUCKAPUNCH, and they all sound incredible in a live setting. Some older songs, such as Underdog, the band's timeless classic, or Take On The World, get an outing and an enthusiastic reception from the growing audience. 2014's Lived A Lie gets me crowdsurfing, even though I claimed I wouldn't and did not even dress appropriately for the adventure- proof that "I want to see as many crowdsurfers as possible" is my kryptonite through and through. They also play Bite My Tongue, which originally features Bring Me The Horizon's frontman Oli Sykes, who makes an appearance on stage for the first time on the tour. And, believe it or not, it's the moment that got me crying like an idiot.

At the end of a set concluded by the excellent Beautiful Way, frontman Josh Franceschi announces ten-year-anniversary shows for the band's third album, Sinners Never Sleep, which are then revealed to take place in June 2022, just before Slam Dunk Festival. If we're being honest, I am unbelievably excited, as the record holds a more than special place in my heart, but I am also terrified of hearing When We Were Younger live again, so I might need a little emotional support come June.

Recently, on a magazine's application page, I read the question: "Who is the most exciting band in the world right now, and why?" I thought of many options, many artists who social media is raving about, but the one true answer stood in front of me for an hour and a half on the 26th of September, 2021, and their name is Bring Me The Horizon. Who else could it be? What the Sheffield-natives do, no one else does it, but everyone draws inspiration from it in some way. They are the textbook definition of trendsetters, of trailblazers. The face of metalcore would not have been the way it has been if it wasn't for their music, charisma, anthemic lyrics, and style, and the face of rock music in the 2020s is going to be heavily influenced by their artistry. Mark my words.
I often speak about how unique it is to watch a band you once saw in smaller rooms play huge arenas, complete with pyro, screens, and a bigger budget, but I never really had that experience when Bring Me The Horizon is concerned, even though I have followed them for over a decade. The only time I saw them play an intimate venue was in May 2019, a few days before All Points East Festival, as a belated part of the Brit Awards shows. The one thing I can see, though, is a change of atmosphere. The first time I saw them play was at the first-ever Warped Tour UK, in Alexandra Palace, a strange day in my life to say the least, and the most vivid memory I have from their afternoon set was Oli Sykes asking people to open up a wall of death during Shadow Moses, which was getting its first-ever live outing, and do the Gangnam Style dance in it.

I could say it's pretty crazy to me that the band who did this is, ten years later, leading the pack of rock music in the United Kingdom, whatever anyone has to say about it, but there was unabashed confidence in asking that from an audience, and they wouldn't be where they are today without such self-belief.
I would like to say that, now, Bring Me The Horizon has the resources to fulfil their ambitions, but it would not do justice to their vision. Because you do not get where they are without a clear vision of what you want to be.
All throughout the years, there has been complete fearlessness in everything they have done. After the critically acclaimed Sempiternal, which many regard as the best metal record of its decade, they shifted their sound in That's The Spirit, going slightly softer, and even more dramatically with amo, which saw them explore poppier sounds and collaborate with people such as Grimes. In 2020, when POST HUMAN: SURVIVAL HORROR came out, it sounded like a love letter to the heavier music of their humble beginnings and almost a way of telling people that "actually, we can still do music that's heavy as fuck, and probably better than you think we can." And this fearlessness, this confidence, is, undoubtedly, what propels them to offer the live shows they do.

They do not have elaborate stage sets à la Iron Maiden, pyrotechnics, or complicated tricks. (Not that there's anything wrong with those. You all know me enough to know I love a bit of pyro.) They only have screens as props, behind them as well as a case of them around the stage, going up and down as the narrative demands. These screens are not here for an easy cop-out. They are here to tell a story, paint a picture, plant an atmosphere. Every song gets its own scenario, some we have seen before (Medicine comes to mind), some brand new, for the songs that haven't been played live yet. At various points during the show, dancers join them on stage, making the show feel like an all-encompassing experience. This demands every part of your brain. Yes, you are required to listen to the music, but also use your eyes and take in everything that's in front of you. This isn't just a live performance. This is the real definition of a show.
The setlist is a clever mixture of their biggest hits (Shadow Moses, Throne, Drown) and of songs released in the past two years, of course from POST HUMAN: SURVIVAL HORROR, but various singles as well, such as the poppy Ludens, the heavier Parasite Eve, Obey, which sees Yungblud's appearance on stage for an energetic feature, and their most recent track, DiE4u. This is a welcome reminder that they are one hell of a hardworking band, first, and that they will never go where anyone expects them. They are always surprising the audience. It's almost as if they are beyond traditional albums and EPs. They just release music in whatever form they want.

I don't know when I stopped to think it was all special beyond words, but it was definitely down to spotting audience reactions. From the right side of the standing area, I was constantly being pushed back in by security when crossing over the safety line, as moshpits were getting much too large. The lower end of the seating was right next to me, and there was a family right above me, parents and a kid who looked about twelve. The father was having a grand old time, and the child, in their Sempiternal era shirt, looked transfixed by what was happening on stage during Kingslayer. (I can't blame him. Kingslayer has exploded its way into my absolute favourite Bring Me The Horizon tracks, and watching it live was face-melting.) Maybe it was because I can always, always count on Can You Feel My Heart to rip my heart out and, considering the teary-eyed man next to me, it seems I am not the only one.
And that's when I saw it. The universality lying in Bring Me The Horizon's music.
They started as this deathcore band in Sheffield, and there is still heavy music to love and mosh to for the diehard fans. There is enough of a wow factor to transfix little kids who have probably never seen or heard anything like Kingslayer before. There's enough emotion and relatable words to tug at everyone's heartstrings, not only mine. I don't think I count anyway, I cry to everything. Yes, they are anthem-makers extraordinaire, but they can truly do it all. They can do breakdowns, a live show that feel like a pop star's, complete with dancers and matching outfits, clean and pretty much flawless performances. They can do everything and make it seem so easy and effortless that it's almost infuriating.

Maybe it's a reminder that we could all start jumping through life with the unabashed self-belief of a band who once asked a bunch of emo teenagers with fringes to do the Gangnam Style dance in the middle of a moshpit at five in the afternoon, and who, from there, have lifted themselves to the top of the pile, never mind the genre.

Remember the screens, the dancers, the outfits, the sounds, the music. Remember everything.
You'll be seeing them everywhere in the future.