The thing I am most excited about this month is Mayday Parade's A Lesson in Romantics anniversary tour finally hitting the UK. Finally getting to hear what I believe is one of the most iconic and classic pop-punk records of the last decade in full will be, without a doubt, a treat.

A Lesson in Romantics is perfect from start to finish - let's not beat around the bush here. It is the snapshot of a time and of a place. 2007 was the year of enthusiastic side fringes, too much hairspray, guyliner and waistcoats over neon bright Glamour Kills t-shirts, and not many things from this era have stood the test of time. A Lesson in Romantics has. 

The catchiest songs (Jamie All Over, Black Cat, When I Get Home, You're So Dead or Jersey) are picture perfect power-pop tunes. They have the ability to make you bust a dance move or two, deliciously emo with a 2007 twist that would be completely inappropriate a decade down the line (the chorus to When I Get Home, You're So Dead, anyone?). The harmony and mixture between Derek Sanders' and Jason Lancaster's vocals is out of this world, a thing of beauty. Last but not least, A Lesson in Romantics has my favourite thing in music (I think) : a banging key change. The build up to the key change in Jersey gets me hyped like no other song does, and I truly believe you have to give credit to a band who can produce music that makes you that enthusiastic and excited. I would run a marathon is Jersey was playing along the way. (I wouldn't, but you get the idea)

In my opinion, what made A Lesson in Romantics stand the test of time is not just the fact it is opened by one of the best collection of absolute bangers pop-punk has to offer. (I now dare you to find me another album with such a flawless opening. I'll wait) 

It has also secured Mayday Parade a place in the hall of fame of bands that could write an excellent tearjerker. You all know where this is going. We are very obviously talking about Miserable at Best. Everyone has listened to it at least once, and chances are, if you know of Mayday Parade, even if you are not a fan, it is because of this song. Miserable at Best is a five minute long piano ballad about a break up. The storyteller and their significant other have called it quits, and he cannot get over her, cannot get over the fact that she has moved on and he hasn't. Who hasn't sung along to its chorus, doing both parts at once, pretending you could sing in tune? Who hasn't listened to it when they were heartbroken, tragically looking out of the train window under the rain? I know I have. I was in a Megabus eating 28p cream crackers instead of a train, but, same thing, really.

Outside of the catchy singles and Miserable at Best, A Lesson in Romantics offers a stunning collection of songs at are a times nostalgic, reflective, or make you feel like you are on top of the world. (That's Ocean and Atlantic for me. I think all hell will break loose when they play it on the tour) This album has a very specific sound that was never emulated, that stayed in 2007 with flying pigs and neon dinosaurs, but somehow, that made Mayday Parade one of the most important bands of this scene. Since then, their sound had shown a certain versatility to it, and every single one of their releases has been solid to say the least. They have proven time and time again that no one could tug on our heartstrings the way they do, and they have also released a stupid amount of pop-punk jewels, so incredibly satisfying to sing along to. They have, though, never sounded like anyone else, and no one has tried to sound like them, allowing them to keep their unique spot under the sun.

Mayday Parade have also always been one of my favourite bands to watch live. Their 2012 Slam Dunk performance remains one of the best I have seen. I remember them playing Miserable at Best, Derek sat in front of a tiny keyboard underneath a plastic white gazebo. They were clashing with the likes of Architects and Taking Back Sunday and yet, the tent was still full, filled to the brim with people enjoying every second of the show. Just before the bridge, Derek's microphone fell over. While it was being fixed, he kept on playing the piano and the crowd replaced him on vocals, giving the moment something utterly magical. 

You know me by now. I will always be there for a moment of magic. 

Last Wednesday was an incredibly special day for me, as it is every time I get to see my favourite band live. I have often wondered about the meaning of "favourite band" as opposed to "that one band I really, really like", or "one of my favourite bands". What makes Jimmy Eat World my favourite band, the unrivalled band at the top of the list, what separates them from everyone else was something blurry, like mumbling an excuse out of a tricky question you don't want to answer. I wondered if I could genuinely call them my favourite band when I had never followed a full tours of theirs as I had done for other bands. These are way too many questions, in the grand scheme of things. What stopped me from just liking them more than the others and not feeling like I needed to provide the world with an essay on how they were my favourites? This is when I dislike questions, and my hyperactive brain.

I'll never have all the answers, but as far as demonstrations go, Wednesday helped.

It's always going to be tough, for me, to rate the band who's playing before Jimmy, unless I already know them. Every time I see Jimmy Eat World live, I turn into an impatient child and my usual desire to get to know different artists vanishes into thin air.

Amsterdam started with German band Razz, who had already supported the Americans at their Berlin and Cologne shows, in June and July. The quatuor offers us a promising blend of fuzzy rock guitars and poppy sound - think Bastille, just slightly less dark and a little more upbeat. The outfit is very talented and it is clear to see why Jimmy Eat World have chosen them as support on those three shows. Their songs make for a very entertaining half-hour, and they do their job with class and enthusiasm. I wish their music was a little more diverse - I rarely ever pick up on those details, but I felt like all seven songs they played had the exact same structure, and it became a little repetitive halfway through. If they added a little more variety in their set, they could easily go from "entertaining" to "excellent", I felt.

Since I have created this blog, I have seen Jimmy Eat World five times, six if you include the Amsterdam show. It never gets easier to write about it, or to find the right words to describe the amount of love I have in my heart and the amount of joy their music brings me. It feels like those things are beyond words, and yet, I need to try and put them into sentences, I need to try and voice them. What a challenge, my friends. 

What makes Jimmy Eat World my favourite band is the happiness they bring me. I knew this show was going to fly by, as every one of their shows had in the past, and yet, from start to finish, I had the stupidest, biggest, goofiest grin on my face. Two songs in, my jaw started aching because I couldn't help but smile, and even when they played quieter, sadder songs (Hear You Me, 23), my face would not let that smile disappear.
I found myself happy crying during Big Casino. It has always been one of my favourite Jimmy songs - it is a perfect little pop-rock tune, with a soaring chorus that is easy to memorise and ridiculously satisfying to belt out, with just a hint of emotion on the bridge. I have always thought it was one of their best songs, the type of single that had a true shot at daytime radio and number one slots in the charts. It has been released ten years ago and it hasn't aged a day, it is universal, it is timeless. It is what I would call a true masterpiece and I would argue that it is one of the best songs released this past decade. I have always known this, accepted those as facts, and when I would hear Big Casino live, I would jump around, sing at the top of my lungs, take the time to marvel at the fact that the chorus is a thing of beauty. Apparently, on Wednesday, those facts and feelings grabbed me so violently I could not stop crying. I was not even sad - I was just plain happy, satisfied and content. When they carried on with Integrity Blues' Pass the Baby, introducing it as one of their newer songs, I found myself submerged with pride.

I am partial to a "so proud of my boys" moment every now and again, "every now and again" meaning at pretty much every gig I go to. The small bands I see grow make me proud, the bands whose members have been nice to me from the beginning make me proud, the bands whose releases make it to the charts or the bands who win awards make me proud. The pride I felt when Jimmy Eat World played Pass the Baby was not like this - I was just proud to have a favourite band who was not scared to reinvent themselves, even when they were on their ninth album and were established and influential in our scene (and beyond). Pass the Baby is dark, and miles away from bursting singles and tunes like Big Casino. It has a strong Clarity feeling, with an extended outro à la Goodbye Sky Harbor. It is less easy to get into than the singles and it is a reminder that this band can do absolutely anything. They can bottle up happiness in Sweetness, they can capture raw pain in Hear You Me, they can encapsulate feelings we all go through in 23, and they can create unique diamonds that showcase all the faces of their talent like Pass the Baby.

Seeing Jimmy Eat World perform makes you feel elated. They have never struck me as a band who was out there to play rockstar or to play pop-punk band 101. They walk out there, grab their guitars and do their thing. I am so close to the stage I can distinctly hear the sound of Jim Adkins' shoes stomping on the wooden floor. It somehow adds something realer to the show - that is one feeling I can't quite put into words. They have never been a band who ask you to open this shit up and they don't quite jump around, but they have more energy than many bands I have seen. About five songs in, the four-piece is dripping with sweat when the venue is well air-conditioned, and overall, they play in such an inviting way that they end up showing more energy and enthusiasm that the bands who spin-kick around. Every time Adkins talks to the crowd, he sounds a little astonished, a little beside himself that over a thousand people have showed up to sing his band's songs back at him when he couldn't be further away from Mesa, Arizona. This band has been touring the world for twenty years, has released nine albums, has been incredibly successful for the past two decades and yet, they are still surprised at the fact that there are people willing to spend an evening with them. 

I don't know how desperate I would sound if I told you I would be willing to spend every single one of my evenings watching Jimmy Eat World play a live show. I figured out that they were my favourite band and that I loved them more than anyone else because they manage to make me so happy I am shaken up, as if I wasn't sure I could ever be that happy, as if I wasn't sure there was something on this planet who could wake up such feelings in me. For two hours, everything stopped and the twenty-three (twenty-three!) songs they played and the four men that created them were all that mattered. 

Two weeks ago, the iconic festival Lollapalooza was hitting the city of love and baguettes, and lucky for me, all the artists I wanted to see were playing on the Sunday, no clashes - as far as festivals go, this is pretty unheard of.

The festival in itself was a nice and frankly refreshing experience for me. I am so used to going to metal/alternative festivals that I forget I have a music taste outside of the pages of Alternative Press and Metal Hammer. I have a love of pop music, and pretty much of anything that makes my heart beat a little faster, whatever the genre. I often have the thought of pushing myself outside of my alternative/emo comfort zone and go see different artists live, and it was great finally taking the plunge with Lollapalooza - even though, I can't lie, I don't think I would have made the effort if it wasn't for my boys in Donny B. You can't really take the emo out of me.

Obviously, when a festival has the likes of Red Hot Chili Peppers and Lana Del Rey headlining, the atmopshere and crowds are going to be different from affairs fronted by Enter Shikari or Biffy Clyro. The audience was more diverse and, at times, I could see all the festival clichés you might read about in fashion magazines or blogs. The weather forecast rain but I have seen more people donning floaty dresses and flower crowns than wellies and raincoats. I know many people were attending for the name more than the music. Still, I had a great time - if you forget about the toilet queue.

As I said before, the main reason why I found myself in the Hippodrome of Longchamp was my boys in Don Broco. They have found themselves featuring on three different French festival line ups in the space of a month (an exceptional feat when it comes to bands I like), and I couldn't really miss one in my almost-hometown. The sun is still shining when they take the Parisian stage and, as always, they do it with flair, a whole lot of style and boisterous tunes ready-made to wake everyone up. They have a fair amount of fans in the crowd and the number will only grow during the set. On that Sunday morning, while they had the tough task of opening a stage closed by the likes of Lana Del Rey, they grabbed people's attention and refused to let it go. Their summery, stupidly catchy tunes have that power, too - just thinking about it sends Superlove spinning in my brain.
Don Broco showed Lollapalooza what they were all about and delivered an impressive performance - as always, really.

Next up on the second main stage was Charli XCX. I had seen her live before and all three times, I had been impressed by her seemingly neverending energy. The first time I have seen her, she was supporting Ellie Goulding in a rather small Parisian venue, and four years down the line, she has had multiple hits playing on the radio and television and has become able to sell out fairly big venues all by herself. Her set is just that : a collection of hits. Even if you were not a hardcore follower, you would still know most of the songs she was playing as they all are extremely popular. It's been almost a week and I'm still trying to understand why I've burst into tears when she sang Doing It, but, you know. Overall, I've had a blast.

(She's just released a new song entitled Boys and the music video has Frank Carter in it, so I suggest you watch it all now)

The next artist I wanted to see started three hours after the end of Charli XCX's performance, so I sat down with a friend and watched whatever was on offer on the two main stages - a complicated concept. I didn't know Walk Off The Earth and even though I am always a sucker for a good cover, I found it hard to get into what they were doing. By the time they burst into a rendition of Adele's iconic Hello, I had had enough.
I only heard bits of Editors, but it sounded catchy and enticing enough for me to want to give them a post-festival listen.


Everyone knows my music taste usually revolves around the alternative rock universe. I love my pop music and have seen a bunch of DJs live, here and there, but I mostly let it all happen by chance. This is probably the reason why, in my twenty-seven years of life, I had never seen a rap performance live. I have no problem with rap per se - it's just such a different universe from mine that I don't know where to start. Where's my "Rap for beginners" playlist?
I decided to watch French rap outfit IAM. For those who don't know who they are, they have been around and famous for three entire decades and have released eight albums, two live albums and five greatest hits albums. Upon talking about them with my brother, he told me that they could easily sell out stadiums. That's how famous we're talking about. I knew a couple of tunes, so I decided to see them, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. At first, facing a band in which four people had a microphone and no actual musical instrument could be seen was a strange concept, but once I got over my confusion, I could appreciate the performance for its worth. It was good, the level of communication between crowd and band was unreal and I'm pretty sure they won at singalong of the day. 10/10, would bother again, would maybe pay for it next time.





I headed back to the main stage for legend Liam Gallagher. I have always loved the music he did with Oasis, to a point where I can't even remember how or when I started listening to Oasis - it feels like it was always there, always a part of me. I couldn't see myself missing Liam playing, and it was a wonderful set, so honest and beautiful. I think one of my favourite things about him is how he is such a no-nonsense kind of person, the kind of man who has no problem telling what he thinks straight to your face, and then, he just picks up an instrument and plays some wonderful and sensitive songs that tug on your heartstrings. This contrast is everything. He will say that because he came all his way, he's going to treat us to Wonderwall, as if he's doing us a huge favour by simply giving us the time of day, and then he goes and breaks my heart with one of the most beautiful songs ever written. If I ever needed some proof that Liam Gallagher is a legend, I had it.





I think I have been in love with Lana Del Rey's music and universe since I first heard Video Games, and seeing her live was a dream of mine. It was a thing I never, ever thought would happen, and a week before Lollapalooza, I was listening to her songs, thinking that she would be in front of me and I would still refuse to accept it was happening, for real. I wasn't far off the truth - it's been almost two weeks since the festival and I'm still debating whether I dreamt that absolutely gorgeous hour and fifteen minutes of delicate, intricate, unique pop music. Lana Del Rey's performance was absolutely magical, every song felt like a moment suspended in time, something unreal and dreamy, like everything around you stopped, if only for three minutes. She is not the kind of performer who takes up a lot of space, per se - she does not dance, she is not loud, she is not eccentric, she is pretty quiet, almost shy. Somehow, her presence turns out to be huge, she shines so much in all her delicate way. She is beautiful and glamorous, talented and a true icon. Every song stole my heart, but the real winner was, of course, Video Games. The studio version still gives me goosebumps, six years down the line, and the live version brought me to tears. Seeing Lana Del Rey live was a dream, and the reality lived up to my expectations.






My evening was closed off with alternative-rock legends Red Hot Chili Peppers. I am not going to lie, I was so overwhelmed by the prospect of seeing Lana Del Rey and so excited to see Don Broco again that I had kind of forgotten they were playing. The greatest thing about this toned down excitement, how casually I walked near their side of the main stage is that I had so few expectations and was completely willing to be swept off my feet - which I completely was.

The summer is usually quite the quiet one for gigs, and seeing as I was kinda stuck in my home country, I didn't even get the whole jump on a Megabus and find yourself in a sunny/muddy field or overheated venue moment. I stayed home, hit the free gigs (and Guns n Roses' one night in a packed stadium) and listened to the new things that were released, as always. It's a bit more personal, but trying to keep on top of music releases while staying away from social media is a tough one. I haven't perfectly mastered it yet. August, maybe. (I'm not really good at avoiding the socials)

Albums & EPs

I am honestly so, so excited about talking about this beauty that I will leave the "albums first, EPs then" order in the bin. One of my favourite musicians, Mariel Loveland, released an EP under her new project name, Best Ex. It's called Ice-Cream Anti-Social and spoiler alert, it's stunning.

Best Ex is Candy Hearts' poppy little sister. You can tell both have grown up listening to the same stuff and share the same influences, but Best Ex has chosen the eighties influenced keyboards over the fuzzy guitars. The end result is the same in the way that my heart is stolen, big time. Other than that, Ice Cream Anti-Social is very obviously music made by the supremely talented Mariel. Her delicate vocals get along with the keyboards like a house on fire and her lyrics are still the beautiful, honest kind.

In Lonely Life and Someday, Best Ex sing of trying to figure things out, of not knowing what the future is made of, of doing the best we can despite the hard times and dark nights, the frustration and the broken hearts. In Lonely Life and Someday, Mariel has penned anthems for a generation of twenty-somethings who are struggling, every day, to find their way, to figure things out, to do their best. 

The reason why I had fallen in love with Candy Hearts was the way Mariel speaks of love, the way her songs are stories of her life but can easily become the story of yours. In Ice Cream Anti-Social, she's done it again and produced three wonderful moments. February 4th is a lovely acoustic ballad about a long distance relationship, See You Again is the wish of the perfect end to the perfect summer fling and Jellyfish depicts a love that has ended badly, with someone feeling diminished and hurt. ("This is the last time that I will give you my heart again. This is the last time that I will let you walk all over it 'cause I had a life, I had a spine, when I was alone, everything was fine" - let me tell you, this is all too real) The mix between the ukulele, Mariel's vocals and the heartbreaking lyrics could easily make it this EP's crown jewel - but then again, this EP, as a whole, is a shiny jewel, stunning and delicate. 

As always, Mariel's writing is never sugarcoated - on the contrary, it's always honest and real. All six songs in Ice Cream Anti-Social feel and sound like snapshots into her life, right out of her brain and heart and turned into pure art. The beauty of art like Best Ex's music is that it tells a very precise story and yet, it becomes a piece in your own personal puzzle, even though it isn't about you. Ice Cream Anti-Social is wonderful from start to finish, and I already cannot get enough of it. 

July offered us more music made with awesome ladies. After Best Ex, say hello to Milk Teeth's newest EP, Be Nice. This EP is one of this year's surprises for me - I'm not surprised Milk Teeth have done a wonderful job with it, I just was not expecting new music so soon and so suddenly. Be Nice is a wonderful follow up from the band's groundbreaking debut album, Vile Child, and has all the elements that make Milk Teeth the outstanding band they are. There is the very nineties, college rock sound (even though Fight Skirt has punk undertones here and there), Becky Blomfield's heavenly vocals and the unique bass sound, acting as a lifeline throughout the songs. Be Nice is only four songs long ("only" because I'm being greedy and adore Milk Teeth enough to want more) and it is full of anger and passion, it is a little time bomb ready to explode. Once again, the band hits the nail right on the head with the slower numbers - Hibernate is nothing short of a masterpiece. It starts off slow and reflective, I could have almost called it a ballad, but then, there it is - the time bomb explodes and the harrowing cries ("Don't let me fuck it up") turn the beautiful song with the heartbreakingly relatable lyrics into pure, unalterated pain. 

With Be Nice, Milk Teeth show they truly are a gem in this scene, able to be angry and honest and to master a whole spectrum of sound, from satisfyingly catchy to quiet and delicate, and they so it with such grace and talent that it's almost impossible not to get on board. 

Technically, this EP has been released on the 30th of June, but what the hell - it will count as a July release, sorry. With Sainte, Taylor Jardine goes from We Are The In Crowd's cheerful pop-punk to catchy pop that's bursting at the seams with colour and energy. Eyes Are Open does a wonderful job of opening smile, and wave - it is explosive and carries a "now, this is what's up" sentiment about. This song (and EP) are positive and full of live, and they strangely make you want to grab life by the horns. The more upbeat songs in smile, and wave (Technicolor, With or Without Me, Feels So Wrong) are little pop-rock bombs and hits in the making. They perfectly showcase Jardine's unique, slightly broken voice and the ease she shows in going from deep to higher notes. They are also the perfect representation of the general feeling in smile, and wave - there is something very empowering about this EP. A lot of the lyrics are about people who have deceived you and, as a consequence, not wanting to be burdened by their lives, wanting to get out of it and make it on your own. These words scream independence and power, if you ask me. This EP, as a whole, is the musical version of the voice in your head that says you have had enough and you deserve better.
smile, and wave is a brilliant, boisterous start to Sainte's career and I am very excited to see what the future holds. It's a very positive piece of work, a colourful collection of perfect summer tunes with meaning and feeling.

Before I listened to Always Lose for the first time, I only knew three things about The Gospel Youth. A, they supposedly are from Brighton (even though their Facebook page says "South Coast"), B, everyone loves them to the moon and back and C, they kind of belong to the UK pop-punk scene, but not really. By the end of the album opener, I Will Deliver You to the Fireflies, I know another thing : love at first sight is real, and I have just experienced it.
The piano reminds me of one Andrew McMahon, the general nostalgic feeling of the lyrics has something of Deaf Havana, and I don't know about you, but I call this a match made in heaven. All throughout the record, there is a classic pop-punk vibe in the English's sound, and at the same time, The Gospel Youth are not a band who are trying to revive something that belongs to another decade. There is a lot of nostalgia and sadness in the lyrics, yet the end result is strangely comforting. Always Lose, in all its beauty, sensitivity and purity, feels like it could be the perfect soundtrack for any moment you could think of - a rainy day, a road trip in the summer, a sweaty gig in a basement, it all works. This album is, overall, perfect, with outstanding drums, soaring vocals and satisfyingly nostalgic lyrics, and it is a breath of fresh air. In the space of half an hour, Always Lose and The Gospel Youth have given me music to fall in love with, to fall for with all my tiny little heart. I might just go ahead and call Always Lose one of the best albums I've heard this year, a stunning piece of art considering it's only a début album. I suppose that's what love at first sight does to you.



This month, you should also listen to Silverstein's newest record, Dead Reflections, Oceans Ate Alaska's new album Hikari. If you fancy magic, Manchester Orchestra's A Black Mile to the Surface exists, and if pop is more your thing, Lana Del Rey is here with Lust for Life.

The playlist

• This month's playlist will, of course, include a bunch of Linkin Park songs, as a forever thank you to Chester for everything he has created as a musician and done as a human.
• The All-American Rejects coming back with two new tracks, Sweat (a personal favourite) and Close Your Eyes.
• The Xcerts signing their come back with the ¨uber-catchy Feels Like Falling in Love. I think I have run out of words to tell the world to give them a listen. This band feels like home in all its glory to me.
• In Hearts Wake have chosen Nomad as their new single, and the position taken for the music video is that moshpits aren't just a boy's game. This is another thank you, because us girls need bands like In Hearts Wake to stand up with us against those boys who think they're the kings of the pit. We're here, we matter and we can hold our own, please and thank you.
• New tunes from Don Broco, Neck Deep, Arcane Roots, August Burns Red, Knuckle Puck, Stick To Your Guns, Couterparts, PVRIS, Enter Shikari, and new singles from Courage My Love and Waterparks.
• Seaway announced they were coming back with their sophomore record, Vacation, out on September 15th. There's a new single, the excellent Apartment, featuring a lot of feelings and dogs.
• One of my favourite bands, Four Year Strong, have announced a new record, Some of You Will Like This, Some of You Won't, composed of new songs, rarities and unplugged golden oldies. The (I'm sure) beauty is out on September 8th. The lovely The Wonder Years have also announced a new EP, Burst & Decay, which will include reworked versions of some of their songs.
• Another friendly reminder that you should pay attention to Muskets' fuzzy guitars and catchy tunes. Chewing-Gum is a great tune.
• Stray From The Path have a new album out in September, too, and to keep us all waiting (and moshing), they have released a single entitled Goodnight Alt Right. By far their most controversial single to date, Goodnight Alt Right stands up against nazism (as we all should, really) in the most aggressive way possible.
• New Australian pop-punk in the form of Stand Atlantic. The outfit is soon going on tour alongside New Found Glory.
• A little bit of lovely acoustics with Trash Boat's Brave Face for Idobi and The Maine's Bad Behaviour.

It's a story that starts the same way, all over again. There's a thoughtful text from a friend, hoping you'll be okay, and a heart that breaks when you open a window to the real world and see the words. "Chester Bennington killed himself". The first article I saw was on TMZ and I got the blunt headline. 

It's been a little over a week and my socials are full of tributes, of thank yous, of heartbroken messages. I have left it until now because I couldn't find the right words, and I'm afraid there will never be any right words. 

Linkin Park turned up unannounced in my life when I was thirteen. I had heard Numb on the radio, but the moment that changed everything was finding an old magazine my brother had brought back home. It had an interview of Linkin Park, and, in it, Chester was saying that Linkin Park was about accepting the chaos in your head. Thirteen was a horrific age for me, as I'm sure it is for many teenagers. I had just lost my grandmother, whom I was very close to. I was struggling to fit in at school, kidding myself into believing that the people whose jokes I laughed at and the boy I liked who dated all my friends were friends of mine, out in this world to look out for me. It wasn't easy for me to see my mum devastated over her mother's death. I was taking dance lessons and hated it, hated it with a passion, hated how everyone excluded me when I had done nothing wrong. I felt lonely and abandoned. 

For the first time, I had found words that resonated with me. There was chaos up there. I didn't know what else to do so I turned to Linkin Park's music for comfort.

Linkin Park changed the game for me. I had a girl at my school lend me their Live in Texas and I adored it. I remember listening to it in the car with my brother, surprised that his scrawny little sister was following the same musical path as him. I spent my free time listening to the radio, patiently waiting for Numb, and then, Numb/Encore to come on so I could tape it and listen to it later. I borrowed Meteora at the local library and listened to it on repeat, asked for it at Christmas. Linkin Park were my band, there for me at the click of a button on a cheap CD player, there in ways no one else was, there in ways the school kids who told me "please don't tell me you like that kind of music?" weren't and never would be.

It took me seven years to see Linkin Park live. I queued from half 9 in the morning, underestimated the amount of people who would be there before me and still, was knocked off my feet. It was, and still is unreal to get to see my band and the man who changed my life in the flesh. I remember sitting down in the queue, listening to others' conversations, hearing a guy talk about his meet and greet. I probably had an embarrassing pair of heart eyes eavesdropping on someone's conversation, there and then. I was lucky to see them again four years later at Download Festival, when they played Hybrid Theory in full. Man, that was something. All my pictures from that day are awful, bar the ones taken with the friends I was with. You should see the look on my face. I was at the top of my hill, looking un-metal as ever in my flowery raincoat and my flower crown, staring at the stage in absolute awe. By that point, Linkin Park weren't my favourite band anymore, but they still had the power to steal my heart, easy as one, two, three.

Hearing about Chester's passing destroyed my heart. I had always found it hard to understand how people reacted when their favourite celebrities died. I had spent my childhood seeing my brother refusing to watch a Formula 1 rerun that would show Ayrton Senna, because he was too upset. Our copy of Senna collected dust on the shelf, unwatched, because he knew that if he watched it, he would be sad beyond belief. I have seen him cry when Lemmy died. But I didn't really understand until Tom Searle, and now, Chester Bennington. Losing an idol, a role model, someone whose words and works of art have had an influence on your life is like losing a little part of yourself. It's like turning the lights off and closing the door on a room. The only option you have is sit in the dark and reminisce. Coping with your role models' mortality is another thing that is tough to stomach. They have influenced your life so much that it is hard, sometimes, to remember that they are human just like you, and that in the blink of an eye, they can be gone. 

The truth is, I'm genuinely heartbroken and it feels like I have lost someone close to me. I read the words and I still cannot believe them. Love and tributes are pouring left, right and centre and a small part of me cannot quite comprehend that the man who changed my life for the better is gone forever. 

I still nursed the little teenage hope of, one day, meeting Chester. Imagining myself actually saying words was a bit optimistic, but given the chance, I would have taken it. I knew a couple of people who had been lucky enough to cross paths with him and listened to their stories with the awe of a little girl. I would have just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for helping me understand that my pain was okay and normal. Thank you for creating music that helped with my anger, my sadness, all these raw, sharp feelings I didn't know what to do with when I was so young. Thank you for those life lessons. Thank you for giving me a little bit of hope, a little bit of light, for putting a smile on my face the two days I was lucky enough to see you perform. 

I hope you found, in the other side, the home you gave me. 

My musical journey is full of revolutions. The Spice Girls were the first band I ever loved. The Offspring were the realisation something existed outside of pop music. Linkin Park were the first band to voice what was going on in my brain. Jimmy Eat World became everything in the space of seven minutes and twenty-four seconds. The list is long. I would even say that every band and artist I have ever loved has been a revolution in itself. Some were louder than others. Paramore was one of the loudest ones. 

It is a tale as old as man, and, tonight, frontwoman Hayley Williams will mention the love we all have for music. On stage, she will say that maybe, we have found our way here because one of our friends liked one of their songs. Back in 2008, when I was an entirely different person, one of my friends liked not one, but all of their songs, and mentioned them in passing, as an anecdote in an English class. One morning, before taking the bus to university, I typed their name on YouTube and listened to Crushcrushcrush not once, not twice, but about ten times in a row. It felt like a brand new world had opened its gates for me.

As they say, the rest is history.

The Grand Rex show is part of Tour One, the first ever tour in support of the band's fifth full-length record, After Laughter. Once again, the line up has changed, and original drummer Zac Farro is back in the gang. When he gets a moment to perform one of his own songs (HalfNoise's Scooby's in the Back), he thanks "his band, Paramore" for the opportunity. Those are just three words, but they are more than enough to take me back to the day the world found out Josh and Zac had left the band, almost seven years ago. I was so ridiculously upset I spent hours crying and wallowing on my kitchen floor. The day I found out Zac was back, in January, was a cause for celebration. I couldn't exactly go wild, so I just got my old Paramore t-shirt out of my closet and wore it with pride and a giant smile on my face.

I wasn't expecting Paramore to be back so quickly after that, but then, they were. It was a giant rollercoaster of news. In the space of three weeks, they released Hard Times and announced a tour, After Laughter, a show in Paris two days after my birthday. That was a lot of emotion and, somehow, I was ready for it all. I had been waiting for it all, and I didn't even know I had. I had been waiting for my love for Paramore to be reignited after taking a little break. 

If you saw me at that gig, last week, you wouldn't think I had taken a little break with Paramore. From my leather seat behind the sound desk, I was jumping up and down like a bunny, singing along to every word, dancing like the Grand Rex was my dance floor. I even had goosebumps as the trio broke into 2007's That's What You Get. Of course, I cried. Who do you think I am? I always cry anyways, it's barely worth noting anymore.

We're not here to talk about my tears - even though, as always, I am more than willing to make fun of how tragically emo I am and always will be. We are here to talk about Paramore, a band who has had many a rebirth, many a change, and who, tonight, is shining brighter than ever, maybe brighter than I have ever seen them shine. The second they walk on stage and burst into Told You So and its eighties vibe, you can tell you are witnessing something special. You are seeing a band who is, no pun intended, born for this and nothing else.

I have always found it hard to talk about Paramore because of how deep the connection I feel with their music is. They once were the entire world and beyond, to me. They were everything. Judging their performance from an exterior, unbiased point of view doesn't feel right and never will because it has always been love, love with its highs and its lows, with its complications and its doubts, with its bliss and its perfect instants, with its breaks, nothing but pure, unaltered love. There is no way I can be partial.

There is no need to say anything negative, though. There is no room for it. Paramore were absolutely stellar on that stage, and from the setlist to the lights, everything was purely beautiful. Even something like the colours of the lights was perfect. I am going there, but every time they were starting a song and I could detect a colour theme in the lights, my brain thought of course, this is such a pink/blue/mint green song. Of course. Why didn't I think of that before.

Let's talk about the setlist, maybe. Unsurprisingly, many songs out of After Laughter are performed. It is its first tour, they need a grand outing - and they will get it. A personal favourite of mine is Rose-Colored Boy and its cheerleader chants. Just thinking of the words "Low key, no pressure, just hang with me and my weather" is enough to plant the catchy song in my head, impossible to be dislodged. Caught in the Middle, despite all the feelings and how painfully relatable its lyrics are, was just lovely. Forgiveness took a whole new dimension - it was as if a studio version was too small for it, and it needed a stage to become the song it was meant to be. 

Classics were here, too. We were treated to what I unfairly called a Twilight Corner as Decode happens just before I Caught Myself, a song I have always adored but haven't heard played live since 2009. I cried to That's What You Get (don't ask why) and reminisced to the sound of 2009's Brick By Boring Brick. Fond, but slightly embarrassing memories of me and my friends dancing and singing in a store as the music video was playing on their screens came to mind.

You couldn't think of a Paramore setlist without hits such as Ain't It Fun, Still Into You or the decade old Misery Business, a classic amongst classics. I'm more used to listening to this song with a drink in hand, under the bright lights of a sticky club, now, but I will always love it dearly. As has become traditional, the band get members of the audience on stage to perform it - Camille is on vocals and Paola on guitar, and both do a great job. I think I would throw up with nerves if I ever got up there. 

The lights are turned back on. The sound guy presses play on the "END OF SHOW" playlist he has on Spotify (there are privileges when you sit behind the sound desk - feeling like you are behind the scenes, desperately wanting to steal the technician's chocolate cake and berries salad). Whitney Houston's I Wanna Dance With Somebody fills the room. My eyes are shining and my heart is bursting with joy. I have watched Paramore play a wonderful show, I have had a kickass time. Nothing else really matters. 

2017 : the gift that keeps on giving, the June edition.

ALBUMS

Despite its exterior, Hey Violet's From the Outside is not your typical bubblegum pop. Don't look at the artwork and expect it to sound like the soundtrack to your average, mid-2000s teenage rom-com. From the Outside is a take on the mind and concerns of a young woman trying to figure out the world around her, trying to figure out relationships, love, sex, what she wants out of it all, and maybe what she doesn't want either. All these topics are dealt with in a very open, honest way, and tracks like Guys My Age (a slick, definitely modern pop tune on how unsatisfying dating guys your own age can be) could almost sound as if they were part of a conversation in between friends, with no filter whatsoever. From the Outside is a modern pop album with 80s influences (Brand New Moves, Where Have You Been (All My Night)), cleverly used EDM sounds (All We Ever Wanted) and tunes (Break My Heart, Hoodie, Unholy) that somehow can't help but reminding me of The Veronicas. The record's standout tracks are definitely Like Lovers Do, the theatrical and bittersweet story of a relationship that's doomed from the start and the lyrical equivalent of knowing you're going to crash, but accelerating anyway, and Fuqboi, an extremely catchy anthem for a generation of women who are trying to understand men who keep treating them like dirt. In a world where traditional pop culture feeds us some outdated ideals on relationships without taking into account the fact that the world is changing at break neck speed, Hey Violet's From the Outside offers a refreshing (sadly not always pleasing) take on relationships and love, and closing with a track like the über-catchy This Is Me Breaking Up With You and its shouted "Too many movies, I've had enough" sums this up quite well. Women want more than fairytales and settling down, and these are our anthems.


If you're looking for this summer's feel-good album, don't look any further than Broadside's second full-length, Paradise. The title-track and opener is a true summer anthem, and the perfect embodiment of "start as you mean to go on" - you got it, Paradise is filled to the brim with thirty-six minutes of pure feel-good summer anthems. All through the album, the key is positivity. Hidden Colors (one of the best singles of 2017) is all about empowering women, Paradise encourages you to chase your dreams and Disconnect wants you to live your life the way you want to instead of comparing yourself to someone whose life you're seeing filtered to fit Internet popularity standards. Paradise is unmistakeably a pop-punk record - just listen to Miss Imperius (a catchy tune about being controlled by someone who pinpoints your weaknesses, and yes, this is a Harry Potter reference in the title) or marvel at the drumming in Who Cares?, and you'll notice it. What needs noticing, though, is that Broadside are a pop-punk band who are never afraid of putting genuine pop elements in their sound. Every chorus is bigger than the last, and frontman Oliver Baxxter has one of the most versatile voices in the game, easily going from screams (in Laps Around a Picture Frame) to perfect RnB vibes. Puzzle Pieces, the album's first single, perfectly showcases the album's vibes and the fact that Broadside are a socially conscious and aware band who aren't afraid to stray from the typical pop-punk themes to discuss the hard truths and strive for a more tolerant and equal world. Paradise is a feel good album through and through, filled with lovely intentions, a social conscience and wonderfully satisfying pop choruses, perfect for my terrible dance moves.


When I was seventeen, I had a crippingly embarrassing indie phase. My music taste revolved around French indie-rock bands, The Beatles, The Kooks, early Arctic Monkeys material and whatever Peter Doherty would do, and the rest I deemed "mainsteam" and, therefore, not worth my time. Ten years down the line, I still listen to some of those artists and bands, but my indie phase is dead and buried, and for me to find interest and excitement in an indie-rock band is getting rarer by the day. That was, of course, until Royal Blood came along. I was dragged to see them at Download 2014, then saw them again at Reading 2014, and then proceeded to listen to their debut album on repeat. My tiny mind was blown, and, for once, an indie-rock band had grabbed my attention enough for me to want to see them live, and for me to be eager to listen to their sophomore record. How Did We Get So Dark doesn't hit you like a brick at full speed the way the self-titled album does, but every song satisfyingly gets under your skin, seeps in. There is a clear continuity with the band's previous music, How Did We Get So Dark is a logical next step, one with more nuances and less urgency - which is a wonderful thing when it brings songs such as Where Are You Now and its complicated structure, or Hole in Your Heart, a personal favourite. There is still the Royal Blood touch everywhere, and a song like I Only Lie When I Love You is the pure, unmistakeable essence of what this band is all about. With How Did We Get So Dark, Royal Blood have managed, once again, to produce a stunning, perfect indie-rock record without relying on typical, classic indie music tropes. There is no obvious lead song like there usually is in indie-rock albums, every song could be the next single and get daytime radio plays. It's all killer, no filler - which might just be the reason why it got to number one in the charts, why they played the set of a lifetime at Glastonbury last weekend, and why they're only going to get bigger, and bigger. 

On the 2nd of June, All Time Low have come back with their eighth (already!) studio full-length, Last Young Renegade. When the band premiered the first single, Dirty Laundry, frontman Alex Gaskarth said they were out to "explore new things", and it doesn't take a long time to the listener to realise that Last Young Renegade isn't a traditional, pop-punk orientated All Time Low album. The sound all through the record has more pop than punk, and tracks like Good Times feature almost electronic vibes. Having worked with pop duo Tegan & Sara (on Ground Control, one of my favourite songs out of the record) also sends a message towards whatever it is you were expecting from the Baltimore four-piece : times are changing. Still, Last Young Renegade is undeniably an All Time Low record, their touch and their unique songwriting is instantly recognisable. Far from me the idea of comparing it to any of their previous work, but some parts and some songs (namely the opener, Last Young Renegade, and Good Times) reminded me of the Nothing Personal era. I feel the 2010 record is the one closest in sound and vibe to Last Young Renegade as it was their most sonically diverse... until Last Young Renegade came in and stole the crown, that is. Lyrically, Last Young Renegade is about changing, saying goodbye to the past, while still retaining the band's trademark positivity and optimism. By change, maybe All Time Low didn't mean a complete U-turn, maybe it was just all about saying goodbye to your demons and to what haunts you. Last Young Renegade is this month's pleasant surprise and one of All Time Low's best records. The change of sound they were aiming at is gracefully done and this new direction shows maturity on their part as much as it showcases their undeniable talent. It's a refined, slick album that experiments left, right and centre (notably with Gaskarth's voice, which has never sounded better), and I like that better than if they had tried to rehash a tired pop-punk formula. I feel like Last Young Renegade has a better chance of making a mark than some of All Time Low's previous records. It is a strange thing to say about a band who has released an album less than a month ago, but All Time Low have sparked excitement in me again, and I want to know where this album is going to take them next, which direction they are going to head for.

THE PLAYLIST

This month's playlist includes : 

MY NEW FAVOURITE ARTIST

As I said in March's post, the greatest thing about going to multiple shows of the same tour is that you have a shot at making the support bands your new favourite bands. Before following the Set It Off/With Confidence co-headliner tour, I knew of the Americans in Too Close To Touch, had listened to them, even. Seeing them live turned out to be a game changer and I have found in them another post-hardcore band with brilliant vocals - aren't I a sucker for that. The less great thing about following a tour is that you find yourself missing everything about it when you come back home, and I am now sadly sat at home, eagerly waiting for Too Close To Touch's return to the old continent. In the meantime, you should all treat your ears.