my first solo gig
Venturing forth alone on my debut gigging adventure
As I get older, it’s becoming increasingly obvious that it’s getting harder to find friends whose interests totally align with your own. Whether it’s what your ideal Friday nights look like or whether you like the same artist, finding people to accompany you on your interests becomes a greater challenge the older you get.
This doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s a bad thing, but it does result in you realising that to do the things you really want to do, you may not always have someone to do it with. Relationships may make things easier as some would joke that your partner is “contractually obliged” to do it with you. Of course, in relationships, it’s also unlikely that your interests totally align, but that’s a conversation for another day.
So, when I found myself with one and only one ticket to Barry Can’t Swim’s show at Hackney Church a few weeks ago, I was excited at the prospect to do something like this alone for the very first time.
the single ticket
The timing and how this came to be is nigh on poetic. Months ago I had signed up to the presale for this event with the intention to get 2 tickets. This was, and still is, my go to tactic for these kinds of events as I prefer to attend in tow with someone else so we can share the experience together. It’s usually not very hard to find company either, as I am lucky to have friends who like the same music that I do. And Barry Can’t Swim has been exploding in popularity recently and I knew a number of my friends would love to go with me.
So on presale morning, I was armed and ready with my credit card, eagerly anticipating the ticket drop. Ten o’clock rolls around and I make my move, clicking the link arriving in my email inbox. Click event. Click buy. Click on the “+” sign to add another ticket.
Nothing happens.
I try again.
Still nothing.
After a few more tries I’m sitting there wondering whether I genuinely have the last ticket to the show. So I buy it and message another friend who was also trying for tickets.
“I only managed to get one ticket on the presale! Did you get any?”
“I clicked the link a few minutes late and they were sold out!”
So maybe I did get the last ticket.
At the time, I was in a relationship and when I would buy gig tickets, I would always get two with the intention of inviting my girlfriend with me. Our music interests aligned well and whilst I knew she didn’t know who Barry Can’t Swim was, I also knew she would love his show. However, as you can probably tell from reading this, I am no longer in said relationship.
I then made it my plan coming out of the breakup to go do what I love regardless of whether someone can or would want to accompany me. If you couldn’t tell already, music is a passion of mine and I wanted to experience it all.
And so a few weeks ago, I found myself standing outside Hackney Church with one single QR code on my phone. At my first solo gig.
take me to hackney church
Hackney is a goldmine for cool venues and events. I had spent just over a year working in Dalston and I loved just how creative the Hackney area was and how many interesting things there were to do there. We’re talking Night Tales, their loft, Moth Club, Dalston Superstore, Paper Dress Vintage, Netil Market, Mare Street Market, the Prince Arthur, the Prince George, Brilliant Corners, and many more. Hackney has a plethora of interesting and fun things to do, it’s just a shame that rent is so expensive there.
And Hackney Church is no exception.
I walk into the venue and am immediately greeted by a (surprisingly) large and expansive hall with a wide and easily viewable stage to one side, and bars to the other. A mezzanine above me stretched round from one end of the stage to the other cut in half by the impressive organ above the bar. Heading to the back, past the merch stand, I made my way into the smoking area. A ring of portaloos stand to one side and the cloakroom to the other. It was a modest but cosy area filled with revellers standing in clouds of various flavours of vape smoke.
Drinks were alarmingly expensive. A 330ml can of beer cost me over £6 but luckily my inner snob appreciated it being sourced from a local brewery.
And here we find me standing just in front of the sound desk, sipping my beer listening to the warm up DJ. Alone.
To be frankly honest, it felt weird and awkward. I desperately wanted to be “that guy” who can go to things solo and not feel self conscious at all. But I would be lying if I said I was that guy tonight. I had this sense that people were watching me, staring at this one man by himself. “Where are his friends?” I pictured them saying. “What a loser.”
I desperately pull out my phone, stare at the same Instagram post I saw the minute prior, and put my phone away again, determined to appear confident and cool. Then I do the same thing again. And again. And again.
I look around and see so many groups and so many couples, all chatting away having a good time and I can’t help but feel envy. As much as I wanted to go to a gig alone for the first time, I know just how much fun it is going to these things with others.
Then Barry comes on and everything changes.
bazza can’t swazza
The music stops, the lights go low, the crowd goes silent.
This is my favourite part of every musical performance. The air always crackles with anticipation and you can almost taste the excitement.
The lights come on and Barry walks out to raucous cheering and immediately whips out my favourite tune of his: Sunsleeper.
What follows can only be described as beautiful. Barry’s joyful sound has the crowd moving in ways I didn’t think possible. The lights illuminate the huge space easily and make for a picturesque setting. All my previous worries about being alone vanish and the crowd’s boundless energy has me rolling from side to side.
The act is a minimal setup, a drummer and Barry himself on the keys. He’s dressed in his signature look with his oversized green cardigan swaying as he dances with us. Tune after tune blend from one to the next.
I take a moment to exit the crowd and pick up some merch. I’m a big fan of graphic t-shirts and wanted something tangible to remember my first solo venture. At the time, I imagined this tee being my “medal” for making it out to the gig.
Standing at the side from this point on, I watch the rest of his set from the sidelines amongst the pillars holding up the level above.
He finishes on Sunsleeper again and the crowd loves it. One encore later and he departs to thunderous applause, well deserved if you ask me.
And so I take my leave, the advantage of going alone is that there’s no one to wait for when exiting a venue so I quickly find myself on the Overground headed back to my North London home.
to next time
Writing this was something I had been both looking forward to and was nervous about as I knew I would find it hard to describe what I felt that night. As much as I knew I wanted to go to a gig by myself and I wanted for this to become a thing I did more often, it wasn’t the easiest thing to do.
However, coming away from it, I would do it all again in a heartbeat.
Now I’m no long-time gigging veteran, my interest in attending live music performances is relatively recent compared to many of my friends. “I’ve been to gigs alone before, it’s fun!” many would say when I told them I was attending my first one alone.
So where next from here? I’m not particularly sure right now, but attending a full club night alone is now a far less daunting task than it previously was. Rather fortunately, I find myself in Berlin in a few weeks time, the techno capital of Europe, famous for its eclectic and adventurous nightlife. Having dipped my toes once before into its mighty scene, going back is something I’ve always wanted to do.
Maybe I’ll see you again soon for Phil’s next instalment of solo escapades?