Western civilization and pop critics alike live for bands like The 1975 — bands that create cultural dissonance with surface-level theatrics and bounties of aesthetically pleasing Instagram posts. Some peg the band as pretentious and over-the-top, a “corporate indie rock” and “gateway emo” band that is too flashy and image-focused to be taken seriously. Yes, The 1975 is pretentious. The band is also, in fact, over-the-top. But no band can survive and thrive like The 1975 has on banality or internet presence alone. So herein lies the question: Of all the 21st century “indie” bands with textbook bad-boy haircuts and sexually charged synth lines, what makes The 1975 worthy of moving from the 1,500-capacity Marathon Music Works in 2014 to the nearly 10,000-capacity Nashville Municipal Auditorium on Monday?
Three words: New sound. Fangirls.
The 1975 began as edgy rock tryhards dead set on convincing everyone they were indeed edgy. Early songs like “Sex” and “The City” show the then-leather-jacket-clad band’s tube-screaming, guitar-heavy origins. But it was plush-pop singles “Girls” and “Chocolate” from the band’s self-titled debut that really reached the masses. The fans, most of whom were of the boy-band-fan demographic, obviously favored the album’s lighter moments, gravitating toward shimmery rhythm guitars and catchy melodies. The band put up a fight, trying to maintain their dark romantic sound and vision. But the British quartet followed the pink neon light and, like Patrick Bateman on a coke-fueled murder binge, turned to the ’80s and Phil Collins for new inspiration.
And thank God they did.
With their sophomore release, this year’s I Like It When You Sleep, for You Are So Beautiful yet So Unaware of It (insert breath here), the band opens the floodgates and delivers 17 ambient post-rock make-out tracks. If Urban Outfitters has taught us anything, it’s that polished nostalgia sells, and by assimilating into the thriving ’80s pop revival market, the band overhauled its sound and optimized its profit. Proving they could sonically evolve to fit their demographics’ tastes, the band gave us introspective ballads (“Somebody Else,” “Change of Heart”) tossed with self-aware and radio-ready dance hits (“Love Me,” “UGH!”), striking a perfect balance that dodged sophomore-slump status and paid off with a No. 1 debut on the Billboard 200.
But what’s truly responsible for The 1975’s success is a massive (and growing) cult following of fangirls. God bless the fangirls. Giving the band their money and hearts, they’ve lifted up The 1975 from the start, paying them the attention and affection such a band needs to reach its full cultural and commercial potential. Society may deem a young girl’s obsession over a band as some form of irrational madness, but this opinion means nothing to the band, or the girls. Without this pure young love, the world’s biggest bands wouldn’t become the world’s biggest bands. (See: The Beatles.) If done in moderation, fandom isn’t unhealthy, it’s just fun.
And it’s not like frontman Matt Healy has made it easy on them. The Julian Casablancas of the Instagram age, Healy is uncensored, unapologetic and undeniably good-looking. Girls ages 13 to who-really-even-knows-if-there’s-a-cutoff have pledged loyalty to him and his attractive band minions. Why? There’s no universal explanation. Maybe it’s the hair. Maybe it’s the sensitive and poetic lyrics. Whatever it is, Healy is their lord and soft-grunge savior. Every night that he gets wine-drunk in a Yves Saint Laurent suit onstage, he does it for them. He does it for the girls who probably just got their learner’s permits, the ones who’ve never smoked a cigarette. For them, The 1975 is bliss, rebellion and glamour personified.
The 1975 isn’t trying to exploit, save or define postmodern rock. They aren’t begging anyone to take them seriously; they take themselves seriously enough for the entire world. Cultural phenomenon is never comfortable for the majority; that’s always how it’s been and always how it shall be. The Urban Outfitters generation may terrify you like it does me, but I’m not one to ignore a hit based on where a band’s fans buy their threads. So put on your crop-top blinders and see why this band is deserving of the pedestal they’ve found themselves placed upon.
Email music@nashvillescene.com
