Ian Curtis, Morrissey, Ian Brown, Shaun Ryder, Liam Gallagher… Matthew “Matty” Healy? Really? Are we obliged to place this “slack-jawed fuckwit”, this scion of a Loose Women-fronting Geordie pint puller, in the same lineage as the aforementioned titans of Mancunian rock music? Well, whether we like it or not, on this particular point the data is unequivocal; units shifted, social media impact, concert attendances, all the most basic measures of sheer cultural import; each conveys the same unpalatable but unmistakeable truth – the 1975 are the closest thing Manchester has produced to a global popular music phenomenon since Oasis. Most signally of all, Matthew has provided the subject for multiple Taylor Swift-essayed diss tracks; the ultimate affirmation of an artiste’s unassailable place in the 21st century West’s collective unconscious. It is thus my solemn duty to embark on a self-flagellating deep dive into the discography of what may well prove to be Manchester’s last rock band of significance, assuming that ChatGPT gets its act together and skynets humankind at some point in the next ten years.
The 1975 (2013)
It’s obvious within the first two minutes of the 1975’s self-titled debut album that these lads are monumental tits. The self-mythologisingly cinematic M83-style intro; the insufferable Damon Albarn-esque posh boy-does-Del Boy croon; the garish Duran Duran-meets-Maroon 5 synth-funk; it’s enough to make me pray for another Covid-style lockdown, so everyone under the age of 30 can be denied their basic human rights for 18 gloriously unjust months. And yet, there’s something about it that piques my interest. It’s overly long and ropey as hell, though a couple of the groovier numbers, especially “Chocolate” and “Girls”, are delightfully sleazy. The main draw, however, is Matthew himself, an entertaining car crash of a public schoolboy turned performatively bookish Artful Dodger. His amusing and appalling narcissism is precisely what rockstars are supposed to embody, in contrast to, say, the unrepentantly bland bottom-feeding of white bread company man Harry Styles.
Rating: * *
Standout track: “Girls”
I Like It When You Sleep, For You Are So Beautiful Yet So Unaware Of It (2016)
The nauseating title of the 1975’s sophomore outing contains the most characters of any album to top the Billboard 200, an accolade hitherto held by the Hindley and Brady-esque duo of LL Cool J and P Diddy. Musically, When You Sleep is even more derivative than its haywire predecessor, with a police lineup comprising Michael Hutchence (“Love Me”), pre-fentanyl Prince (“UGH”), Orchestral Manoeuvres in the frigging Dark (“A Change of Heart”), and most nefariously of all, Gary Barlow during his Marshal Petain-esque collaboration with Lulu (“The Sound”). Normally, I wouldn’t swipe right on this pop-offal avalanche if you offered to pay my mortgage, and yet I remain reluctantly intrigued. Around 50% of the songs are, well, pretty good, actually, most notably the irresistible electro-funk of “She’s American”, and the languid New Romanticism of “Somebody Else.” But the show is once again stolen by Matthew’s ongoing psychodrama, which injects an odd coherence into an otherwise scattered record.
Overall: * * * *
Standout track: “Somebody Else”
A Brief Inquiry into Online Relationships (2018)
When You Sleep unexpectedly fashioned a transatlantic arena band out of four Tumblr-twerking scenester tarts, and so, when they came to record the follow up, Matthew naturally felt compelled to perform every rock’n’roll cliché imaginable, including a stint in rehab for a modish heroin addiction. The album that emerged from this overblown Instagram story is positively Derridean in its dementedly deconstructive genre hopping, even by the 1975’s erratic standards. The opening three songs veer from New Order to Justin Bieber to Kid A, whereupon we are treated to regurgitations of “Fitter Happier” (“The Man Who Married a Robot”), Boyz II Men (“I Couldn’t Be More In Love”), Ryan Adams (“Be My Mistake”), and A-ha singing about smack (“It’s Not Living”). But despite the hysterical eclecticism, A Brief Inquiry feels flatter than its vaudevillian predecessors, as the tried and tested millennial defence mechanisms of relentless irony and carnivalesque neuroticism begin to lose their protective potency.
Rating: * * *
Standout track: “It’s Not Living (If It’s Not With You)”
Notes on a Conditional Form (2020)
Three albums in and I’m thoroughly flummoxed by the 1975. The music is all over the place – some of it is tremendous, some of it sounds like NYSNC – while the frontman is eminently punchable, but also a welcome throwback to a time when rockstars had a personality (disorder) rather than a P.R. manager. Notes on a Conditional Form is nonetheless a misstep. The opening track – five mortifying minutes of Greta Thunberg-fronted “activism” – bodes nothing but ill for what follows, and so it proves, as the lads proceed to deliver over an hour of UK garage-inspired gunk. The exasperated listener is left to pick the occasional succulent sweetcorn kernel from the Aphex Twin-adjacent art pop turd, and to be fair, there are a couple of them – the throbbing late-Genesis dadrock of “If You’re Too Shy”; cheesy 90’s sitcom opener “Me And You Together Song”; and an unexpected shot of Shoegaze on “Then Because She Goes.” Overall, though, it’s a bloated mess, grimly indicative of a band with ideas above their station.
Rating: * *
Standout tracks: “If You’re Too Shy (Let Me Know)”
Being Funny in a Foreign Language (2022)
This deep dive has felt a bit like binge-watching an entire season of Stars in their Eyes. Tonight, Matthew, I’m going to be Simon Le Bon / Michael Hutchence / Justin Bieber / Anthony Gonzalez / Alec Empire / M-Dubs / Morten Harket, all in the space of twenty minutes. But then, unexpectedly, Being Funny in a Foreign Language turns up and threatens to channel a cohesive sound; namely, electronica-infused soft rock. And, well, it’s not bad, is it? “Happiness”, “Looking for Somebody”, and “I’m in Love With You” are gratifyingly unapologetic 80s throwbacks; “Oh Caroline” is a pop soul piece of ass; and “About You” is Slowdive at their most lushly sentimental. Matt sounds oddly deflated, the poor sod, and I miss his cartoon mania a bit, but his restraint suits the album’s more contained mien. The 1975 will inevitably make more records, but they shouldn’t, because Being Funny is an appropriately wistful sendoff to their chaotic oeuvre.
Rating: * * * *
Standout tracks: “About You”
Ranking
1. I Like It When You Sleep, for You Are So Beautiful Yet So Unaware of It (* * * *)
2. Being Funny in a Foreign Language (* * * *)
3. A Brief Inquiry into Online Relationships (* * *)
4. Notes on a Conditional Form (* *)
5. The 1975 (* *)