American Football: Enough Said

Having clawed my way through a dense crowd of feral fishnet-clad Doc Martins wearers, I found myself in a spot about 3m away from the barriers, surrounded by die-hard The 1975 fans. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big enjoyer of the indie-pop giants, but this Finsbury Park crowd was teetering on the obsessed super-fan side, I was scared. The lineup was exciting with huge names like Cigarettes After Sex and Bleachers also on the list - it was set to be a great day for music.

We settled in as Pretty Sick opened with a fine set, nothing to write home about really. The guitarist was the most entertaining to watch, squeezing every possible drop of tone out of his guitar. With him was a competent singer and a great drummer. Generally though, their energy was lacking and it seemed like they wanted us to win them over rather than the other way round, but the music was good. The highlight was definitely their final song ‘Dumb’ as the majority of the crowd knew this one and that injected a temporary boost of energy into us.

As they left the stage, a silence befell the park - the early July sun was strong, all the carefully applied eyeliner was beginning to melt, and the alt Tumblr crowd around us were dropping like flies. We desperately needed someone on stage, and someone good.

As if in answer to my prayers, four middle-aged men humbly took to the stage. To the untrained eye, it would have looked like a bunch of dads picked up some instruments, but to me, I knew my ears were about to be blessed by the godfathers of Midwest emo, and you could not contain my excitement. The 1975 demographic however were generally not as excited as my group, it was clearly not a fantastic fit for American Football to be performing alongside the Dirty Hit folks, but there were a few pockets of anticipatory chatter around us which just added to the atmosphere. Their sound check was lengthy, but that’s understandable – after all you can’t rush greatness.

Eventually it ended and they were ready! They opened their set with ‘Stay Home’ a melodic, atmospheric, mainly instrumental track, with a scattering of repeated, mumbled lyrics, easing us nicely into their more polished, laid-back sound after the grungier Pretty Sick set. It was at this point that I began to cry, I guess it was just overwhelming watching the band that popularised my favourite genre almost two decades on from their debut album, but it’s also not the first time I’ve cried at a gig so maybe I should just start taking tissues. Next was ‘The One With The Wurlitzer’, an American Football essential, featuring drummer Steve Lamos on the trumpet. I could tell this one was going to be challenging for the crowd, with interesting chords and piercing trumpet accidentals, it’s an acquired taste for sure.

Having opened with more instrumental songs, ‘Silhouettes’ was a welcome introduction to frontman Mike Kinsella’s singing voice, steady and speech-like, supported by his cousin Nate’s harmonies - it started with a whopping three glockenspiels layering cascading rhythms, a really impressive piece. I was blown away by just how identical the live versions were to the recordings. Throughout their set, not a single one of them uttered a word, letting the music speak for itself and shrouding the band in a delicious mystery.

Then out came a guest singer in place of Paramore’s Hayley Williams for their collaboration ‘Uncomfortably Numb’. The levels were a little strange for this one, with Mike’s voice overpowering his counterpart’s but it was a crowd favourite, slightly more upbeat and singable than the previous songs. Kudos to the sound team for getting the volume of Nate Kinsella’s bass just right, the band’s twinkly guitar riffs and funky drums are tied together perfectly by his interesting rhythms and carefully selected intervals and it was important to give the bass enough weight.

At this point in the set, groups in the crowd were beginning to lose interest, I guess if you don’t know their music, it’s quite challenging to get into it, especially live, due to its slower, more emotional nature. People were beginning to sit down around me, no way to treat emo royalty – but don’t get me started on the state of concert etiquette nowadays. Luckily for them, the set was winding to a close and the recognisable opening riff of ‘Never Meant’ emanated from Steve Holmes’ guitar. Instantly, I saw about 100 phones shoot up in front of me to capture the iconic riff, I can’t judge, I too immortalised it on my Instagram story (sorry followers).
With that, Mike stepped up to the mic, uttered a quiet ‘thank you’, and that was it. Who knew how long I’d have to wait to see them in England again?