After a long day of hangover recovery day yesterday, today is the day we return back to tour and play a gig in Atlanta. I haven't seen Matty yet, but I figure he's gotta be here by now, they're performing in less than 12 hours. Ross, George, and myself spent the day together yesterday sitting out in the sun and just chatting about life. It was a really nice time, and I was grateful to have some time in the sun.
I check my emails and see one from Alex asking how tour is. I reply, giving him a quick summary of how things are from a logistical standpoint. It's unbelievable how much the band has grown since tour has began. They had a decent following over in the UK prior to touring, but have now become much more mainstream. They've amassed over 4 million listeners on Spotify, and 'Sex' hit 50 million streams. Hard to believe these best mates from Manchester are totally changing the music scene.
I plan on heading over to the venue early today, I'm planning on doing some evaluations on the set and props, but secretly I hope I see Matty there as well. It's only about 11 am, so I decide to change and get ready before grabbing lunch and heading over. I put on a more casual outfit as I already know today is going to be a long day and I likely won't be back to change until late in the evening.
I slip on a pair of black tights and black mini skirt that has a slit. On top I wear an old band graphic t-shirt, and of course my black Doc Martens. I grab a tote bag, and head downstairs to grab some lunch at the hotel cafe.
Four Hours Later
I've been at the venue for almost four hours working and I'm exhausted. Not that, but Matty is still a no-show, which is fine because honestly I've got shit to do. Over the past couple shows the stage has taken some damage, so I'm working on rebuilding and fixing several aspects of the show so every flows accordingly. But, I also won't lie, I'm secretly hoping Matty comes in looking for me and finds me bent over the table painting some chipped areas.
I hear some commotion from backstage, it sounds like Adam just got back as I hear greetings. I also think I hear the catering company setting up. I work for another hour, and at 6 pm I head to the lounge areas to grab some food. It looks like pasta and salad, not my favorite but it'll do. I go to sit with Adam and George, and I ask them, "have you guys seen Matty? I still haven't heard from him at all." They both shake their heads, "no clue where that wanker is, but I'll kick his ass if he's late," George replies. "You guys aren't like worried at all?" I ask. "Nah Matt does this shit every now and then. He always comes back though so I'm sure he'll show soon." Adam says.
I don't feel so sure, but I gotta trust the guys, they seem to be no stranger to his disappearances. After I eat, I hang out in Matty's dressing room, I'm starting to get really anxious about his whereabouts. The clock nears 8 pm, and I head out to the general admission area of the venue. The pit is packed, and nothing appears out of order, nothing is screaming 'hey the lead singer hasn't shown!'.
The lights dim, and the infamous curtain lifts revealing "The 1975" logo in white. I hear the band shuffle out into place, and less than a minute later the curtain drops and I hear the familiar guitar starting off to "Sex". I hear singing and to my shock, Matty is on the fucking stage singing. What the actual fuck. Where the hell has he been? Why did he give a heads up or check-in with me?
I'm right at the edge of the stage so I know he can see me. I stare at him blankly, in disbelief he even made here in the first place. I'm angry, confused, and hurt. Of course he's acting like nothing happened, trotting around on stage taking large swigs from a wine bottle.
The band jumps into the next song and Matty starts to make his towards the side of the stage I'm standing on. He walks over, and is basically standing completely above me, leaned over top just like he was all those years ago. He stares into my eyes, while he finishes the song. Once the song concludes, I see Ross, George, and Adam all come offstage. Matty walks back over towards the center and lights a cigarette. 'What the hell are they doing?' I think to myself.
Matty returns back to the mic, smoke curling around his lips and with his acoustic guitar slung around his chest. "Um, yeah so we're gonna do a little somethin' different tonight." He says. "This song is a cover, and uh, it's for someone special. I fucked up and I can't put the words together to say how I feel, but uh yeah. She's knows it's for her," he finishes as he looks my way and gives me a soft smile. "Um yeah, so this is 'Moon Song' by Phoebe Bridgers."
'What? 'Moon Song,' there's no way' I think. 'Moon...Luna. Holy shit.' He starts to gently strum the guitar, he looks almost nervous. He puts his head down, and flicks back up, shifting his long curls out from his eyeline. He makes direct eye contact with me, neither one of us wavering despite the nerves we both feel.
"You asked to walk me home
But I had to carry you
And you pushed me in
And now my feet can't touch the bottom of you
Everything about this song is us. Us walking home drunk together, but I usually end up having to care for him.
Stuck your tongue down the throat of somebody
Who loves you more
So I will wait for the next time you want me
Like a dog with a bird at your door
He waited all this time for me. We waited for each other without even knowing it. Sure I dated after him, but I knew no one would ever replace Matty.
We hate Tears in Heaven
But it's sad that his baby died
And we fought about John Lennon
Until I criedAnd then went to bed upset
Matty and I are huge Eric Clapton haters, and I laugh at this small remark. I remember fighting about who was the best Beatles member, I thought John Lennon was, and he though Paul McCartney was. I smile at the playful tiffs we used to have up in his bedroom covered in emo band posters and vinyls.
But now I am dreaming, and you're singing at my birthday
I've never seen you smiling so big
It's nautical themed, and there's something I'm supposed to say
But can't for the life of me remember what it is
I remember all our birthdays we spent together. We would both pretend to be surprised when the other is waiting in the living room in the morning with a huge smile ready to celebrate. I don't think Matty knows that in all my favorite memories, they're usually centered around him.
And if I could give you the moon
I would give you the moon
You are sick, and you're married, and you might be dyin'
But you're holdin' me like water in your hands
When you saw the dead little bird, you started cryin'
But you know the killer doesn't understand"
This last verse hits me the hardest as Matty softly belts out, "If I could give you the moon, I would give you the moon," he smiles so wide at me, despite the tears falling down his cheeks. He would do anything for me, and hell I would for him, too. He describes himself as water because people, like water, are delicate to hold because they can slip away any moment if you aren't careful; relationships are fragile, which we both learned the hard way.
He finishes with "but you know the killer doesn't understand," and I know what he is trying to say. He's calling himself the killer, and he just can't figure out how to be there for others. He's killing his relationships to cope. He sings the final verse one last time, and the song comes to a close with both of us in tears, still staring back at the other.
"Um yeah, thank you guys for lettin' me do that," Matty says with his voice cracking. He wipes his face on the sleeve of his shirt, and the lights go dark. I hear the band come back on stage, and watch Ross pull Matty into a hug when he returns to stage. The show finishes per usual, and when they leave the stage, I remain standing next to the stage. I stay there for a while simply thinking, the entire room is empty, but I hear a door creak open and slam shut somewhere near backstage.
While I sit on the edge of the stage, I see Matty come out from the hallway backstage. He's carrying two beers and has a cigarette tucked behind his ear, hidden in his curls. He gives me a quick smile, "hey," he says nervously.
"Hey," I reply back. He hoists himself up onto the stage sitting next to me. He opens the beer with a key he had in his pocket and silently passes me the bottle. "We really should talk," he says. "Yeah, yeah we should," I reply back flaty.