Words: Maddie Nisbet (She/Her)
I think I can attribute my reason for loving live music, as well as many people’s, to this electric feeling. There’s something otherworldly about musicians lit on a stage far above the crowd, in a haze larger than life that somehow still makes each individual feel seen.
I live and breathe music. Every minute of my life has been interwoven with its own soundtrack – a song with which to recall long-forgotten memories, and melodies to ease me through moments I wish I could forget. For this reason, I never pass up an opportunity to hear a live gig; from stadiums with my bucket-list artists, muddy festival grounds, intimate settings with up-and-comers. Even by chance, if I hear a guitar drifting from a doorway, it’s enough to set my foot in the door. In venues full of unique stories, live music is always a connecting thread, stringing us along with each chord.
My first ever festival was right here in Glasgow – Playground Festival 2021, with headliners James and The Libertines. I grew up with these bands and many more. My dad’s impeccable taste and drumming abilities were always a huge influence on me and my sister – especially in our teenage years once we began to discover things for ourselves, bringing back musicians our parents hadn’t listened to in a while to the dinner table playlists. We practically raided the garage for old records and CDs, and once lockdown came around, we’d go out to play along to them. Once COVID restrictions began to slide away, there was no question about going as a family to Rouken Glen Park to turn Friday night YouTube viewings into the real thing.
We embarked on our road from Fife to Glasgow, queueing songs to play in the car and yapping about who we were most excited to listen to in the flesh. Hotel checked in, the taxi booked, and off we went. A local band was playing around 4 p.m., so we were determined to not be running late ,as usual – miraculously we saw most of their set. I still have the setlist fromThe Shambolics, being the fan girl I truly was at 15. I vividly remember understanding the connection between artist and audience, the influence they have on each other; one cannot really thrive without the other.
As afternoon faded into evening, the late September sun began to descend over the gathering crowd for the band James’ much-anticipated set. The audience seemed to grow larger at every drop of darkness; bodies stacked on shoulders, flags soaring through the glow of the stage lights, and chants being started in every direction (even my usually demure dad got into the chanting spirit). I think I can attribute my reason for loving live music, as well as many people’s, to this electric feeling. There’s something otherworldly about musicians lit on a stage far above the crowd, in a haze larger than life that somehow still makes each individual feel seen.
Once James’ set was over, you could sense a shift in the audience. The spectacular show and sheer joy of the crowd had merely been a warm-up for the amount of energy they still had to give. My sister and I, despite being keen music lovers, had never experienced a rowdy barrier – never mind a mosh pit – but we decided we would position ourselves front and centre for The Libertines. My mum was apprehensive, but we reassured them both that we could hold our own. They opened up with What a Waster and I had never been so in my element before; we could feel the pounding bass beneath our feet, like the very dirt itself was keeping time with the band. They continued on, calming us down with You’re My Waterloo, the tears in my eyes not having time to escape before we were brought right back up for the remainder of the gig. It was at this point, me and my sister realised we were not as tough as we thought, and still not immune to teenage embarrassment, when my dad began putting an arm at either side of us shouting ‘Watch my bairns!’ It got intense quickly, but my mum and dad – probably reluctantly – sacrificed their own comfort so we could keep our prime spots.
Some people may be put off going to gigs and concerts nowadays with ever-increasing ticket prices, but live music in Glasgow can still be supported without forking out wads of cash to Ticketmaster. We are so fortunate to have a strong grassroots scene, an inclusive space for artists and audiences alike. Still, many (including me) do see the value in also paying extortionate prices for their favourite musicians. I think a huge part of this is human connection – existing together and bringing us closer not just to the charismatic artist, but to each other. Total strangers, acquaintances, friends, and families all woven into the fabric of the music before them.
