McFly who? The 1975 is proving their critics wrong and thinking bigger than ‘next big thing.’
MANILA, Philippines - It’s hard to define who The 1975 are, or what they sound like. There’s a definite Gary Numan-esque ‘80s influence, and some electro, and R&B thrown into the mix. The group is certainly eons away from the sugary pop of current tween obsession One Direction, but are also far from being a by-the-book rock band. This is exactly what makes The 1975 so damn alluring, landing Chocolate — only an EP track, with their first record still far from being released — on the UK singles chart in 2013. Borrowing producer Mike Crossey from the Arctic Monkeys and Foals ensured that their first, self-titled album will be a lush, show-stopping pop record that will silence critics who brushed them off as a 2013 McFly-Busted success story. Certainly, the Mancunian lads’ meteoric rise (not to mention lead vocalist Matt Healy’s famous parents) has made them a controversial crowd, even garnering the award for NME’s worst act of the year. However, that hasn’t stopped the four-piece from dominating charts across the globe, and acquiring a decidedly devoted fanbase. This led them to their first tour in Asia, which they could have hardly predicted when they first formed the group back in school.
Just a few weeks ago, at the end of March, The 1975 stopped by Manila, and held a series of concerts at the Ayala Malls, making them the second international act to perform at the ultimate shopping destination in this year alone. Dressed all in black, the quartet, composed of front man Matt Healy, Ross MacDonald on bass, Adam Hann on guitar, and George Daniel on drums, performed massive hits Girls, Settle Down, and Chocolate, and even more charismatic singles from their first album. The intimate lyrics — coupled with the unique blend of dance, pop, and rock they’ve become known for — filled the malls with hundreds of fans whose raucous reception only meant that they were more than satisfied with what The 1975 delivered. Vocalist Healy charmed the audience the only way a great front man could — all low, raspy, pained vocals, matched with a frank, biting sense of humor peppering his anecdotes between songs. The rest of the band perfected the image, equal parts broody, and equal parts frenetic, making their presence absolutely magnetic. If this is the kind of performance The 1975 delivers in a smaller setting, one can only imagine what they have in store for the stadium. What do you say now, NME? — Pam Cortez