The 1975, Glastonbury Festival, review: If you find it hard to like Matty Healy, watch this
They are a post-modern pop group, so aware of the ironies, showbiz tropes and rock star hypocrisies of the celebrity business that they want you to know they don't take any of it too seriously… apart, that is, from their seriously impressive songcraft.
Frontman, main songwriter and conceptualiser Matty Healy knows he is a divisive character: a mouthy, hyperactive, oversensitive contrarian constantly on the verge of being cancelled, and he chooses to lean into that persona. 'I have this thing where it's difficult to tell when I'm being sincere,' he announced early on in their spectacular, artfully designed set, before he then made a series of ludicrously pompous statements about being the greatest songwriter of his generation. 'These words I bleed for you,' he proclaimed, smoking a cigarette and swigging a Guinness.
I'm pretty sure there would have been people watching the BBC broadcast at home ready to throw things at the screen, as the super slick band launched into early hit Chocolate with nonsense soundalike lyrics emblazoned on the big screens. The 1975's own fans grasp the joke, and sang along unperturbed by their complicated hero's displays of comedy ego.
The first half of the show found Healy playing a kind of caricature of his controversial persona, dressed like a classic rock rebel in skinny jeans and a leather jacket. A short interlude commenced with a screen emblazoned with the legend 'MATTY IS CHANGING HIS TROUSERS'. He returned in a slick suit and tie, banging out big hits as if he genuinely wanted the crowd with him rather than against him.
But even his sincerity is not to be trusted. He made a speech hoping that people wouldn't be disappointed by the lack of politics in their set, perhaps referring to several other Glastonbury performers leading Free Palestine chants. 'There's enough politics in the world, we want our legacy to be one of love and friendship,' he said. I think he means it, too. But I suspect the BBC won't have been too pleased with flashing images of riots, 9/11, dead children, flayed dogs and Kanye West during their fierce rock protest anthem Love It If We Made It.
The 1975 formed at school in Manchester in 2002. The quartet have been together a long time and play like it, locking into slick grooves expanded with colour and scope by additional keyboards, horns and percussion. It's a very lush, hyperactive, mobile, richly melodious form of modern pop: big and daring songs full of challenging ideas but peppered with hooks.
That the challenge extends to their artful presentation is to be applauded, albeit it can make them hard for the casual onlooker to love. It was a Glastonbury set that wobbled precariously between triumph and disaster, which I suspect might be exactly where Matty Healy and his loyal crew feel most comfortable.
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