~ 25 ~ #3
The moment stretched on but in reality it was probably only ten seconds or so, during which time, the crowd cheered and it got so loud and deafening it permeated my wounded heart and allowed me to meet them, as who I was now, free from the bullshit of the past. I finally managed to say hello and the crowd went wild. The noise was deafening.
The wave of positive energy crashed over me.
This wasn’t about their approval, but there was something healing about being able to show up here as who I actually was, rather than pretending to be someone else.
This was about me finally sharing my music with the world while being my most authentic self, singing songs that meant so much to me and came from my heart.
I smiled, feeling more confident and secure up here by the second, and able to say what I needed to say.
“Thank you for being here. I can’t tell you how much this means to me. This stage, this festival, it’s an absolute dream. Thank you so so so so SO so much for all your support. I’ll try to calm myself down now so I can play for you.”
That got another roar from the crowd. My body was both numb and the most alive it’d felt in years, perhaps ever.
The next twenty minutes or so went by in a blur. Everything clicked into place and the music flew out of me.
I took a deep breath as one song ended, gazing into the crowd and letting the moment feel real for a second. Flags waved over the crowd as the sun started to give off the most luscious glow as it began its descent. “You look beautiful out there, Glastonbury!”
We got a cheer.
I walked to the other side of the stage and waved. “Glastonbury! How are we feeling?”
A roar.
I continued. “This next song is about pushing through and having the courage to be yourself, to be who you truly are, no matter what.”
I played the song on the keyboard to start, then kicked into the beats, which included the recording of the train tracks from the underground on my date with Lily to her football club last year.
I’d sampled a short verse from Oriella, a poet from south London.
This song was more energy than lyrics, but the short lyrics were prominent.
The crowd sang along to the main line of the chorus, ain’t nobody else gonna be me, that’s my only job here, and my eyes welled up with emotion.
It was such a beautiful and full circle moment.
I could see my younger self up here on the stage with me, finally feeling seen and able to let others see the real her.
I closed my eyes to take in the feeling. When the bulk of the song ended, I turned around and took a selfie with the crowd in the background.
Nell laughed, still monitoring the song as it played out.
I snapped a picture of her too.
Glancing up at my friends in the stand next to the stage, everyone was dancing and smiling.
Lily waved over and I waved back, happy.
I turned back to the crowd. “This next one’s for anyone who hasn’t felt like they’re in the right place. I see you.”
I started playing the music. I’d sampled the vocals from a poet I’d seen performing at an open-mic night last year.
Their video was playing on the huge screen above our heads, covered in a red hue which matched my album cover.
The song was intricate and powerful. I layered it with snippets of what Lily had said about being in between things and one of my own songs.
The three came together in a delicious chorus that had the crowd going crazy.
Nell was bouncing and raving away, arm in the air, smiling and having the time of her life. Getting to share this with my best friend was fucking special.
I played away on the keyboards, jumping from different stations to the electronic drums in one fluid motion. I performed the song while bopping my head like everyone else in the crowd, totally into it too.
Something in my nervous system fell into place as I rocked out the set, being totally true to myself and sharing my weird creativity up here on stage.
I became one with the music, with Nell, and with the crowd.
They couldn’t reject me anymore because I was there for myself now.
I was here and I was showing up because there was nothing to be afraid of anymore.
If I could do this, I could do anything.
I glanced up at Lily and Oscar as the song ended and we transitioned to the next one. They were both looking so proud and happy and inspired. I loved them dearly.
I caught Lily’s eye and everything felt right with the world.
Picking up the microphone from the stand, I walked across the stage and waved at one side of the crowd. “This next one is about that moment you realise you are in love.”
I sang this one perfectly, surprising myself. The notes were difficult for me. I wanted to stretch myself when I wrote it.
Nell held the fort at the keyboards and decks, playing like a true professional.
I focused on the notes. “You found me. You found me. You found yourself on your own. You found yourself hoping.”
I always pictured Lily in Greece by the outdoor dining table when I sang this song.
I think that was where I first realised I cared about her.
Shocking how early on it was but that’s how lesbians work.
She was so vulnerable, in her own way, so brave to come on holiday with a bunch of new people, and so lost. I’d wanted to protect her.
It was coming towards the end. My plan was to get the crowd going a little crazy for the last three songs. They were upbeat, euphoric, and all about love. I sang my heart out while losing myself in my instruments and songs. It went by in a blur, like the music was coming through me.
Everyone was dancing and some people were on their friend’s shoulders, hands in the air.
I was sweating, my heart was pounding like it was a workout, but thankfully I was still hitting the notes and everything sounded great in my earpiece.
“This is the last song,” I announced, slightly breathless now. “I feel so grateful to get to share this experience with you. You have been incredible.”
The crowd roared again. There was a soft orange glow all around. I paused, taking in the scene in front of me. All I saw out there was pure love.
And in my heart, all I felt was pure love for what connected us at this festival in this moment together, for Lily, for my friends, and most of all, for myself. Because after everything was said and done, that was all that mattered.