My name is Hayley, and I’ve just had a gig life crisis. I’d like to say I came up with that brilliant pun all by myself, but I’m actually blatantly stealing it from a brilliant Facebook group I’m a member of. It’s just too good not to use.
I’m a 42-year-old hormonal, tired woman heading into perimenopause, and I’m starting to get some of the glorious signs of it. And by glorious, I mean not glorious at all. Heightened PMS symptoms, anybody? Confusing body signals? No takers? I thought not.
I also happen to be a gig enthusiast. Saying the word ‘gig’ to me is like saying ‘walkies’ to a dog. (I’m afraid that’s also stolen from an Instagram meme, so I can take absolutely no credit for it.) My life advice goes something like this: feeling stressed? Go to a gig. Feeling sad? Go to a gig. Feeling happy? Go to a gig. It’s the key to eternal life, as far as I’m concerned. I can’t think of much else better than feeling live music fill my whole body and being surrounded by a crowd of people who want to be there just as much as I do. Even better if I happen to discover a band I’ve never heard before and fall in love with their sound.
Being in my early forties and having this particular passion doesn’t always mesh particularly well. My energy levels aren’t what they used to be, and I’m apparently a proper grown-up with a proper job and everything. I’m a woman, and with that comes the joy of navigating monthly hormone surges, followed by the added bonus of reaching an age when they’re no longer quite as predictable as my body starts to change.
In some ways, this has made me more sensible, of course. For instance, I finally got myself some earplugs to wear at gigs earlier this year. I used to see people wearing them and wonder why the hell they were doing that. Now I realise that, firstly, it’s good to look after your hearing, but secondly, it’s also a sign of a seasoned gig-goer. We know all too well about the following-morning ringing-ear syndrome.
I try to listen to my body as best I can. If I’m at my lowest energy point of the month, I’ll do my utmost to rest. However, my desire to look after myself and my love of gigs don’t always tally up. Hence the gig life crisis I’ve just had.
I said yes to reviewing three gigs and somehow didn’t really register, to begin with, that they happened to fall on three consecutive days. I cottoned on later that two were back-to-back (after both had been confirmed), but still put my name down for a potential third. I was swayed by one of the band names, as I’d never seen them live before, while also thinking, ‘There’s no way I’m going to get three yeses to gigs in a row, surely.’ Inevitably, not long afterwards, I got the third yes.
Oh, did I mention that all three gigs just happened to fall at exactly the time I was due on my period?
And so, my accidental gig marathon began.
Gig 1: The Rock ‘n’ Roll Freakshow – Electric Brixton, Friday 6 November
Day one of the accidental gig marathon arrived, and things looked promising in advance. I happened to be doing a half-day at work, meaning I could come home first (I work in London but live outside of it) and even get a few odd jobs done before heading out. I was excited for the gig. Band of Skulls were headlining, and I was keen to see them. There would also be more than just bands, with sideshows and DJs thrown into the mix. It looked set to be a good night.
The daytime, however, wasn’t quite so good. I felt grumpy and sensitive and just wanted to take it easy. My usual easy, quiet, short shift was none of those things. By the time I got home, the hours seemed to disappear in a flash, and I felt as though I’d had no time at all. For various reasons, I’d managed to work myself into an overwhelmed frenzy. But with gig number one happening in Brixton, at least an hour and a half away, I needed to get moving.
Once I entered Electric Brixton, it was like walking into a twisted, dystopian rock ‘n’ roll fever dream. Hosts dressed in costume greeted people as they arrived. One corner had been decorated with eyes and smiley faces on the walls, silver tubing and the words ‘Compliance is Joy’. In another corner, a ‘Truth Assessment’ machine glared out at me, surrounded by even more of those creepy eyes.
I made my way towards the front, which is standard practice for me, but this time was a little different. I’ve been reviewing gigs for years and have had photo passes quite a few times. However, until recently I didn’t actually own a camera, so I hadn’t used them (apart from earlier this year at Rebellion Festival, when I tried my luck with just my phone and, surprisingly, they let me in). This time, though, I had a camera and had been authorised a photo pass.
I looked towards the front but initially couldn’t see anyone, so I wasn’t sure how to get into the photo pit. I waited around until I spotted other photographers going in and grabbed my moment. It definitely felt surreal to be standing alongside all the big players with their much fancier, massive cameras, but I was ready to give it a go and hopefully get some better shots than my phone could manage.
At first, it was a waiting game. There were no acts on yet, but two DJs were playing, and I have to say their music choices throughout the night were fantastic. Things started off with classic rock tunes, which gradually helped shake off the stress of my day and get me in the mood for a gig.
Then the first act arrived: a woman dressed in black fishnets and a boa, with a sparkly television for a head. She proceeded to perform a burlesque routine to ‘Video Killed the Radio Star’ by The Buggles, followed by ‘Killing in the Name’ by Rage Against the Machine. The front of her TV-head flashed up different images, including the word ‘Fuck’. Meanwhile, I was practising with my camera, already discovering just how difficult gig photography can be, even with the advantage of being in the photo pit. Movement, positioning, timing, trying to get around other photographers… there’s a lot to think about when you’re trying to capture the perfect shot.
The performance ended with the woman almost naked, sporting a glittery ‘up yours’ symbol on her crotch and a balaclava over her now TV-less face. The screen, which she was holding in her arms, displayed the word ‘Resist’.
Before the first band of the night, a pale woman’s face appeared on the screen at the back of the stage, like something straight out of George Orwell’s 1984. This was our ominous host, announcing: ‘Citizens of Brixton, can I please draw your attention? Your first musical act has been approved by the Ministry of Culture and Behaviour…’
The first band was Daland. They were a good act to practise my photography on. The singer had slight Liam Gallagher vibes, and he and the rest of the band were animated enough to give me plenty to work with. Musically, I was reminded of a mix of Oasis and The Stone Roses.
It was during their set that I became even more aware of how difficult gig photography is, but I also noticed a few other things that felt a little strange. Why weren’t the photographers in the pit clapping after the songs? There was part of me that just wanted to be in the crowd, feeling the atmosphere rather than concentrating on getting the perfect photo.
More music from the DJs followed, and things started heading even further into Hayley music-fan territory, with Bikini Kill and Hole making an appearance. At some point, I noticed a commotion in the crowd. Turning around, I spotted a second burlesque-style dancer performing near one of the bars. At the end of her routine, she raised a flag emblazoned with the words ‘Fuck the System’ before walking away, as the unmistakable beats of Peaches’ ‘Fuck the Pain Away’ (what a tune!) filled the room.
Soon it was time for the second band, Professional 101. I wasn’t entirely sure about their music to begin with, but as their set went on, I warmed to them. A blend of rock, indie, dance and punk, they reminded me a little of The Stooges, but with added layers and some wonderfully jagged edges.
By this point, the battery on my camera was already starting to run low. In amongst all the madness, I hadn’t had a chance to charge it fully before heading out. I also wanted to dance and clap, which felt a little strange in the photo pit when nobody else seemed to be doing either. So I freed myself from my photographic duties and headed back into the crowd to do exactly that.
Another DJ interlude followed, before the opening bars of Black Sabbath’s ‘War Pigs’ rang out. A guitarist appeared, playing along, shortly followed by a woman in a pig mask and suit chasing him around. She then performed a burlesque routine to ‘You Don’t Own Me’ by Lesley Gore and ‘Ballroom Blitz’ by The Sweet, complete with pink confetti bombs fired across the stage.
It felt as though time had flown by, because the next thing I knew, headliners Band of Skulls were taking to the stage. They were everything I’d hoped for: super cool, bluesy and incredibly talented. I was particularly captivated by vocalist Emma Richardson, who looked as though she was channelling Stevie Nicks in her witchy, floaty black outfit, complete with tambourine.
I’d heard Band of Skulls’ songs before and loved them, but I wouldn’t say I was particularly familiar with their whole back catalogue. That’s certainly going to change, because I absolutely loved everything they played. Their sound, the vocals and the sheer professionalism of the performance had me captivated. I spent the first few songs in the photo pit, but then decided I wanted the full gig experience and headed back into the crowd for the rest of the set.
The crowd was just as enjoyable to watch as the band. So many people had dressed for the occasion that it really did feel as though all the rock ‘n’ roll and goth freaks had gathered in one room. There were no scary mosh pits, thankfully, just dancing, silliness and joy. Exactly my kind of atmosphere, and the perfect remedy for the earlier stresses of the day.
I took a ridiculous number of photos throughout the night, although quite a few didn’t make the cut when I went through them afterwards. I was pleasantly surprised by some of the shots I’d managed to get, particularly considering I was still getting to grips with the camera. I really enjoyed the experience, but I also learnt something important: I need a balance. The photo pit is great for getting those shots, but I don’t want to spend an entire gig looking through a lens when I could be out there enjoying the music.
I think there may have been more music afterwards, at least from the DJs, but by this point it was 11pm and I had work the following morning. I couldn’t stay any longer, so I headed home and arrived around 1am. That left very little time for sleep, as I needed to be up again at 6am.
Gig 2: Hot Wife EP Launch – The Finsbury, Saturday 7 November
I groaned as my alarm went off at 6am, but there was no choice. I needed to get up.
To make matters worse, the physical reason for the previous day’s meltdown had decided to make itself known, so I was now doubly tired and grumpy. Somehow, I made it through my working day without taking a sneaky catnap in a corner of the library. (I work in a library, so technically there were plenty of potential hiding places.)
There was less time between getting home and heading out this time, although at least I knew that in advance. I really wasn’t feeling great and was absolutely exhausted. I came very close to cancelling and having an early night instead.
Even on the final leg of my journey, sitting on the Piccadilly line, I was still contemplating getting off and going straight back home. But somehow, almost on autopilot, I found myself making my way to The Finsbury.
Compared with Electric Brixton, The Finsbury is much smaller, being a little room at the back of a pub. So there was no photo pit this time. Instead, I had to find myself a good spot, which wasn’t too difficult, although I hadn’t arrived quite as early as I’d hoped.
I was entertained pretty quickly, even before the music started. I couldn’t help noticing a woman in the crowd dressed like a goth woodland fairy. Then I spotted an elderly gentleman walking in with a tote bag emblazoned with the words ‘The Gig Slut’. I wondered what the bag was referring to. Perhaps it was some cool music blog I hadn’t heard of? A quick Google later and I discovered that the man himself was the Gig Slut.
I found an article from 2023, when he was 73, explaining how he’d been going to gigs almost every day since retiring in 2008, describing himself as an ‘extreme gigger’. I felt a little ashamed. Here I was, aged 42, nearly giving up on my mini marathon on night two. Suddenly, my marathon was feeling more like a sprint. If he could keep that up for so many years, surely I could manage three gigs in a row! Clearly, he was well known, as I watched several people stop to have selfies with him. I didn’t get to speak to him, but discovering his story certainly gave me something to think about.
Once the music kicked in, the evening began with some dreamy, shoegazey indie from support act Kenofish. Then I realised that the Goth Fairy was actually the singer of the second support act, the brilliantly named Bitchcraft.
I was absolutely captivated. The fairy outfit, the band name, the feminist punk-grunge and rock ‘n’ roll sound, with Hole-style influences and funky basslines thrown in for good measure: I was totally rapt. I think their opening song was called ‘Liberation’, and it caught my attention immediately. By this point, I was already feeling much more alive than I had on the journey there.
Lastly came Hot Wife, who had released their debut EP, Life Is Beautiful and I’m Hating It, that very same day. This was the celebration party, and a huge cheer went up as the band members stepped onto the stage. Singer Rachel placed a pink teddy at the front, the very same teddy that appears on the EP cover.
I’d been lucky enough to see Hot Wife once before, when I caught them at LOUD WOMEN Fest last year, and I was hooked straight away. I couldn’t tell you enough about how that performance compared with this one, but I knew I was in for a good time. This set was no different in just how much I adored them.
They blasted through a mix of tracks from the new EP alongside older material. Their music has swagger, with a punk-feminist, sassy, tongue-in-cheek attitude that is absolutely perfect to dance to. Despite being utterly exhausted, I somehow found myself dancing even more at this gig than I had at the Rock ‘n’ Roll Freakshow the night before. Clearly, the right bands can work wonders for a tired hormonal woman!
If you haven’t heard Hot Wife yet, I urge you to check them out. If you like your music full of punky sass, you’ll adore them. To top it all off, they finished with a fun cover of ‘Molly’s Chambers’ by Kings of Leon, which got the whole crowd singing and dancing.
Once again, I didn’t get home until after midnight, but this time I had the advantage of not having to get up for work the following day. I was very grateful for that small mercy.
Gig 3: The Muso Awards: PUNK – The 100 Club, Sunday 8 November
Despite getting a longer sleep, I still felt very tired the following day. However, I wasn’t quite as reluctant to head out as I’d been the day before. I had a few hours to chill at home and catch up with little things before setting off in the afternoon. This final gig had a significantly earlier start and finish, kicking off at 4pm and wrapping up by 8pm.
It was also an easier journey for me, being at the iconic 100 Club on Oxford Street, which only required one train. By this point, I think I was running on a combination of caffeine, stubbornness and autopilot.
I hadn’t realised that the advertised time was the actual start rather than just doors opening, so I arrived partway through the first act, One Offs. They were playing straight-up punk, with a mini mosh pit already forming in the crowd. This was probably the trickiest gig of the three when it came to finding the best spots for photos and views, but somehow I managed to squeeze in where I could.
The event was part of The Muso Awards, which I’d only recently become aware of. They’re peer-voted music awards, with musicians voting to select the cream of the crop. This particular event featured the PUNK finalists, with seven bands playing for their place in the final, which takes place at The Electric Ballroom in December. The awards are organised by Soccer Six in close partnership with the Music Venue Trust.
For me, this was a chance to discover seven upcoming bands in my favourite genre and delve a little deeper into the current punk scene. Each band played a short set, and personally, I enjoyed every single one. I liked that they were all punk, but none of them sounded quite the same.
There were pop-punk elements from South Wales band Gutterchunk, grungy early-Nirvana vibes from Versaints, heavy emo stylings from Jack the Man and garage punk from The Sick Fix. My personal favourites were the totally madcap, energetic Racey Stacey, whose singer was pure chaos as she threw herself around the stage, and IO, who were just impossibly cool.
IO are an all-female band, which naturally catches my attention, but there was more to them than that. They had a brilliant stage presence, and I found myself wanting to see more of them. Judging by the crowd’s reaction, I wasn’t alone. There were calls for one more song, but sadly, the set times were the set times.
Once all the performances were finished, there was a short break while the judges decided the winner and the two other bands who would be going through to the final. The three selected were Gutterchunk, The Sick Fit and the winners, Versaints.
Finally, an evening when I got home before midnight! I was relieved, to say the least. I had absolutely no energy left to do anything, so a lazy evening was very much in order.
I’d survived the marathon and lived to tell the tale.
The Morning After the Marathon
So, what have I learnt from my accidental gig marathon? Firstly, that I’m probably not quite as sensible as I like to think I am. I can talk about listening to my body and getting enough rest, but then put three gigs in a row in my diary because I fancy seeing the bands. There’s clearly a contradiction there somewhere.
Secondly, I coped better than I expected. Saturday was definitely the hardest, particularly before I left the house, when the thought of getting on another train and heading into London felt like an enormous effort. But each time, once I actually arrived, something shifted. The music, the atmosphere and being surrounded by people who were just as excited to be there brought me back to life. I was often more animated once I got through the door than I’d been all day.
Would I do it again? Well, I’m glad I did it this time, but I’m not sure I’d deliberately book myself three consecutive gigs if I had work in between them again. A day off between each one would be a much better arrangement! That said, never say never. If the right bands came along, I can’t promise I wouldn’t be tempted.
There were plenty of unexpected side characters, plenty of new music discoveries, a few photographic lessons and a whole lot of tiredness. It was an adventure, and one that reminded me just how much I love live music. Enough to take on a slightly ridiculous commitment, question my life choices somewhere around the Piccadilly line, and still turn up for the next one.
Perhaps that’s the real lesson here. I might be a 42-year-old woman with a body that occasionally has other plans, a proper job and a growing appreciation for earplugs, but I’m still the person who lights up at the prospect of a gig.
And long may that continue.
Reviews/feature and Photographs by Hayley Foster da Silva
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