February 24th. The U.K.'s formal return to pre-pandemic times, the government having dropped all COVID restrictions. Although the country has been relatively 'open' since last year, and now pioneering what 'living' with the virus looks like, this official act was relieving more than anything. Though, relief would soon turn to anxiety, then to guilt, and now, as I write this, peace.
On this occasion I thought it fitting to explore something we’ve all so dearly missed: live entertainment. Over the last month I’ve transited around Central London, exploring some of the city's most iconic venues. This one is for all the great company who joined me, the self-imposed hangover that lasted all of three weeks, my love of music, and everything I learned along the way.
1. Royal Opera House, Covent Garden
Show: Tosca, February 15th
Price: £25 (special youth evening)
Capacity: 2,256
Kicking off my list is the Royal Opera House. The first iteration was built in 1732. Fires in 1808 and 1856 forced its reconstruction. The modern theatre in Covent Garden now dates from 1858, with several reconstruction projects modifying it in the 1990s. Room after room in the historic building will dazzle even the most well-traveled.
The theatre greets you with red-velvet curtains, a muraled dome ceiling, and mermaid-shaped light fixtures. My flatmate and I sat three rows from the front, stage left, close enough to catch the orchestra tuning in preparation. The room filled quickly with thousands of young faces. Part of the reason we went was for the special youth discount offered that evening. We saw everything from sweatpants to tuxedos. Not sure what to expect, I settled on jeans and a Ralph Lauren button-down.
Tosca, a 'til-death-do-we-part story of courage and rebellion, was my introduction to opera. Despite it being sung in Italian, the surtitres (translations on a screen above the stage) helped us follow the story -- although craning your head up to the monitor every minute was straining and I settled on trying to decipher words through actions instead, unsuccessfully. The mis-en-scène was enthralling and the set design really transported you back to Rome circa 1800.
The show spans three acts with two 25-minute intermissions that enticed us to explore the many foyers and cocktail lounges. The half-moon hall (pictured above) was a particular delight. At times it felt like I was under-dressed, having maybe stumbled on a youth networking event I wasn't invited to. By the second intermission I became more comfortable roaming through the crowds and we eventually found comfy chairs on a rooftop patio. People watching is fun.
Experience: 9/10
2. Roundhouse, Camden Town
Show: Ben Böhmer, February 18th
Price: £25
Capacity: 1,700
I have to say it: the Roundhouse copped out with its name. The building’s commissioner in 1846 wanted a ‘round house’ to repair and maintain rail cars, and thus it was born. But it's earned its fame since, although the Roundhouse didn’t become a cultural icon until 1964. Now, it’s been home to the likes of classic theatre, poetry slams, pride events, and symphonic concerts.
After climbing a red staircase, and passing through heavy metal doors, you’re thrust into an amphitheater boasting an 100 foot ceiling. Spinning around to take it all in made me dizzy: blame that bottle of espresso martini that began our evening. A balcony wraps around the venue, but I never once wanted to trade places with the onlookers above us. Being on the floor hits different.
I discovered Ben Böhmer’s music just as the pandemic hit in March 2020. He’s had my heart since, not just because we share the same first name. He was my and my former roommates' gateway to discovering the Anjunadeep music label, a group of trance and house music DJs from across the world. It was our light through lockdowns. I first saw Ben in London just after moving here in August, and when I heard he was coming back the following year, I couldn't buy tickets faster. For that, I’m not sure how objective my take on the Roundhouse is!
My cousin spontaneously agreed to join me on the day of after some last minute plans fell through, and so we took on Camden. We got there just as Ben was going on stage, and, since the venue offers practically only floor tickets, we quickly budged our way to the front of the stage, dismissing upset patrons we tagged with an elbow or two along the way.
When EDM lacks vocals, it makes up for it with lights and visuals. The mix of pastel oranges, purples, and blues streaming across the crowd shot a warmth through the melodic chords of Beyond Beliefs. A ghostly current pushing the same colours across the 20 foot visualizer behind him invited a little too much introspection for the moment. Or maybe just enough. But when the anticipated vocal track does arrive, the chorus of Father Ocean touches the air with bliss, closed eyes, a slight sway and a tapping foot replacing lights and screens.
Ben's Begin Again tour was brought to life by feelings of separation, and ironically (surely intentionally) brought us all together. See you again.
Experience 100/10
3. fabric, Farringdon
Show: Anjunadeep (Luttrell), February 26th
Price: £12 (student discount)
Capacity: 1,600
fabric, with a lowercase ‘f’, is a classic London nightclub. What was once a meat freezer next to Farringdon station has now been a rave-goers underground paradise for 20 odd years. farbic boasts its fame through hosting tomorrow's best DJs, rather than whoever tops today's charts. With three separate rooms, usually with concurrent sets, if you're not vibing one you can just skip-hop-jump to another.
I went to this matinée show (read: 2pm) by myself. I was nervous. I’d never been to a concert, let alone a club, by myself, sober, I might add. In retrospect this pretext tainted the experience -- I had low expectations. But, I thought, what I love about Anjunadeep is its community and its ability to bring people together, as I bobbed my head to Luttrell, the main DJ I went to see, sipping a Modelo. Peering around was all I needed to reassure myself that we were all spectators, no, shareholders of something bigger than a few songs in a dark room. I took out my phone to Snapchat Music for my Memories, then to be reminded staff put stickers over our phone cameras on entry. That didn't stop anyone from saving the moment.
Lesson # 1
Solo concert-going in a stadium may be different, and certainly there are many outlets suited for alone time. I’ve recently gotten over my imagined judgment from others for going to the cinema by myself. I visited Brighton in October, a seaside city south of London, solo, too. Although only a day trip, I decided to have some me-time and it was the best decision I made that month. And it was the first time going to a new city all by myself.
Feeling like it was a bit of a bust, Luttrell thankfully played my favourite song of his to close the set. After venturing through the second DJ room, I called it quits around 5:30. My lone mission to fabric, along with its slightly underwhelming underground rave vibe, was a bewildering experience. Thirsty for fresh air, I left the dank club, unsit unsit unsit ringing in my ears, wrapped in in the afternoon sun, and made for the nearest McDonalds.
Not everything is meant to be shared, but sometimes it really is all about your company.
Experience: 7/10
4. The O2, Greenwich
Show: The Lumineers, March 4th
Price: £55
Capacity: 20,000
Also a former home to trains, the O2, like fabric, is a relatively new venue. Although known for hosting huge names in its arena, it's also a massive outlet shopping centre. After arriving, friends visiting from Spain and I spent a good 10 minutes walking around a never-ending bend toward the entrance for floor-ticket holders, flanked by Five Guys, Nando's, TGI Fridays, all looking pretty tasty after a dinner of Rum and Ginger Beer.
As the fourth show in three weeks, my mind had been wandering around burn-out. But there were also other concerns to consider. Cue anxiety.
Mid February blew temperate alarm across the U.K. - Storm Eunice swept through the nation with winds reaching 120 miles per hour. London was relatively unscathed compared to other parts of the country, but the O2 in Greenwich was caught in the crossfire. The arena’s roof was torn open. Selfishly, I wondered whether it would affect us seeing The Lumineers three weeks later. Thankfully the team at the O2 acted quickly and had the place up and running within a matter of days.
The Lumineers’ tour, I found, is about love and hope. The light show matched this vibe, and I caught myself entranced more than once in the story it was telling. Brightside, their new album, isn't my favourite but the company made all the difference. We chanted Ophelia, Sleep on the Floor and Ho Hey with the rest of the crowd -- a chorus of people, I imagined, who maybe hadn't been to a concert in years, who maybe knew every syllable of the least popular song, or who maybe had never heard them at all.
No one was ready for a mash-up of Leader of the Landslide and You Can't Always Get What You Want, the pleasant surprise welcoming rock fans of all generations to chime in. I tried to find a live version of this after the fact to no avail. I guess it was just for us, for now.
Experience: 11/10
Lesson #2
Sunday, March 6th: I'm tired. I can't think straight. I haven't slept well in a while. I have two essays due Wednesday I haven't started. I don't know if I'm happy or sad for putting myself through the last three weeks. I have another concert on Friday that I'm excited for, but in this moment I'm indifferent if it goes ahead or not. The next day I caught COVID. Cue guilt. Thankfully my bout wasn't too uncomfortable -- headaches and a bit of a cough (get vaxxed!!)
Deflated about missing Yotto, another Anjunadeep DJ, playing at Electric Brixton (my home turf), I sold my tickets at half price, not a total loss. I'll get to see Men I Trust there in May with my flatmate.
Lying in bed this week, guilt of being consciously careless blanketed me. But I also thought about how the guilt wasn't regret. Live your damn life. But if you find yourself taking on too much, as I did over these weeks, give yourself a break. You deserve it. The best person to take care of you is you.
I still don't know what the happy medium is, but leaning to each extreme has been slowly revealing that balance to me.
