Sex, Chocolate, Coming of Age and The 1975 at 10

The year 2013 marked an interesting time in music and pop culture. Miley Cyrus was rebranding from a squeaky clean Disney star to one that swung on a wrecking ball, while New Zealand’s newcomer Lorde was setting a new precedent in Top-40 radio with her debut single “Royals.” British bands were flocking to America—One Direction was at their peak and Arctic Monkeys’s AM would help catapult them into mainstream success. For those itching for a band that would be the soundtrack of their own coming-of-age stories but wanting a grittier band, they could find it in rock group The 1975. Somehow, days before their debut album’s release, they would prophesize their own legacy: “We’re a band that defines a certain generation at a certain time.”

In the span of ten years, The 1975 have been able to go from playing small clubs in Manchester to selling out arenas in North America. Some bands that followed, who attempted to mimic their sound and vision, have already hit their peak. Somehow, even with the controversies and being called the “Most Hated and Loved Band in the World,”, the quartet have been able to skillfully create a body of work that is equal parts reflective and provocative. The 1975 built the foundation for the albums to come—the ones that showcase their knack for blurring and pushing the boundaries across genre, visuals and storytelling.

The band, consisting of Matty Healy, Adam Hann, Ross MacDonald and George Daniel, released their eponymous debut on September 2nd, 2013 after four EPs and tirelessly playing gigs as a support act on tours across the UK. Working with producer Mike Crossey—most known for producing for Arctic Monkeys at the time—the album was a result of five years spent perfecting their sound, opting to craft sonically succinct EPs rather than release multiple singles over a year. This helped listeners hold more context about the band and their qualms while also allowing the four members to test themselves and determine whether or not they actually could express themselves properly..

Last year, while the band was playing across America last year during their At Their Very Best tour, it seemed like every time you refreshed Twitter there was another abnormal or socially unacceptable act that Healy would be doing as the rest of the band played along. First, it was kissing fans in the crowd which made people question the power dynamic at play. Then, there was eating raw meat and playing with himself onstage. Those outside of The 1975 bubble were questioning the fans’ allegiance to the band, pondering why this would be the one they’d hold in such high regard. But like with Taylor Swift and other artists that create music that resonated with teens, The 1975 is no different.

The first time I remember hearing about The 1975 was, naturally, on Twitter. I had my own reservations about the band, mostly because they seemed like the aesthetically pleasing version of One Direction, the other big British boy band at the time. Much to the disdain of the diehard fans, this tweet by Harry Styles would be the push for me to download the album. At surface level, reading the tracklisting was slightly cringing—a song titled “Chocolate” seemed ridiculous and one called “Sex” even more so. By the end of release week, the album would be playing continuously by me on Spotify.

The 1975 struck a chord with their fans at the exact time they needed them. Over 16 tracks, the album charts their own time growing up, touching on everything from feeling uncomfortable in their skin, mental health, and sex and desire. All of these experiences and feelings are what lead singer Matty Healy describes as “the apocalypse”—a period of adolescence when everything that happens feels very life-and-death or black-and-white.

By writing about their own experiences and touching on themes that weren’t exactly explored in other artist’s discographies at the time, The 1975 helped solidify the band as true provocateurs. Even if a 15-year-old girl had never smoked weed before, “Chocolate,” which serves as a euphemism for the drug, speaks to the universal feeling all small-town bored kids face of the desire to get out. For younger listeners struggling to connect with some of the more surface-level songs that were popular on mainstream radio, The 1975 provided the sonic palette for fans to lean into big emotions and deeper themes in a safe and accessible way.

Culturally, The 1975 came at a time when there was a shift in how audiences consume music and pop culture. Attention spans were (and still are) fleeting, and The 1975 was aware of this—explaining to The Guardian that no one consumes media “in a linear, straightforward way […] You can expect a 17-year-old girl to be listening to Kendrick Lamar and Carole King.” With that in mind, the band embraced a mentality of “no rules,” capitalizing on whatever genres they felt like—evidenced in the saturated synths on “M.O.N.E.Y.” and “Menswear” and even a sax solo on “Heart Out.”

As The 1975 has grown, so has their characters. The first time I saw the band was in the now-demolished Kool Haus in Toronto in 2014. At the time, Healy seemed frantic and miserable, clutching a bottle of red wine and waving it around as he sang. I remember turning to my friends and asking if they, too, felt like he was on the verge of something unpredictable. Yet, almost exactly eight years later, during their most recent tour, I’d see that he still had the red wine still affixed to his hand but his persona had changed. Instead of a glum drunk, he was method-acting a hyper-masculine man, doing pushups on stage and touching himself and, again, the band played along. I remember leaving the gig and thinking, “How does that exactly fit into their album, Being Funny in a Foreign Language?” I’m still not entirely sure, but creating personas and storylines is something The 1975 have spent a decade formulating.