Bido Lito June 2021 Issue 114

THE FINAL
SAY
“Die-hard fans
are the backbone
of the music
industry”
Queuing endurance and crash barrier dedication, Tilly Foulkes
celebrates the power of fan communities which will be restored
in tangible form as live music makes its long-awaited return.
In 2016, a week before my 18th birthday, I woke
up at 4.30am. My mum, lovingly yet begrudgingly,
drove me to the nearest station so I could catch the
earliest train to Manchester. I arrived at Deansgate
at 7.30am, got extremely lost, got a Greggs and asked
for directions, then finally found the old Gothic chapel
that is the Albert Hall. I sat outside the entrance for 10
hours – in the bitterly cold December rain – to secure a
spot at the barrier to see Peter Doherty. I was the first
person in the queue, and the only one there until midday,
when a Swedish girl arrived and explained she’d booked
weeks off work in order to follow Doherty on tour. It
wasn’t the first time she’d done this.
It was the first time I’d see him, but far from
the last. After setting up the silver fences and ushering
everyone behind them, security sat and spoke to
me about waiting. He said he’d ensure I’d get to the
very front. When you fall into diehard fandom – for
me, this was born out of my Tumblr dashboard and
Twitter timeline – the barrier becomes a symbol of your
dedication. It’s the best spot in the house; you can sling
your coat over it, there’s more room to dance and you can
pester security for loads of cups of water. It also works
as a gateway to getting the most cherished trophy of the
night – the setlist. It’s the prize for you bunking school
and freezing yourself half to death on the pavement.
It’s a long-lasting souvenir that seemingly hasn’t lost its
value through decades of fandom. My own mother has
heaps of scrapbooks with setlists and ticket stubs stuck
in them.
The queue, however, is the most important part for
any fan community. I spent a lot of my teenage years
queuing for gigs. I met all kinds of people I otherwise
wouldn’t have; many of whom would go on to become
my closest friends, even if we only get together twice a
year.
The day would start off with a nervous ‘hello’ to a
group of strangers, but soon enough you’re swapping
snacks and stories about the previous times you’ve seen
the band, or your favourite albums. The ‘older’ fans,
who’d queued before – usually women in their early to
mid-20s – would welcome you in, feed you water and
nip over to Starbucks or Spar to get coffee and crisps. It’s
a rite of passage in some fan circles. It’s your initiation
into the group. When you are a fan of a band that has
a particularly cultish following, the queue is where you
find your tribe. They are, for the most part, welcoming,
friendly and homely.
The camaraderie of the queue would be impossible
without the people who devote their days to supporting
an artist. This is mostly young women and teenage girls.
When I would queue for the Manic Street Preachers at
age 15, the women in their early-20s would always take
me under their wing for the evening. They became my
protector from creeps in the crowd and were meticulous
in their checking that I was both hydrated and could see
James Dean Bradfield. There’s a real sense of solidarity
between us girls that spend days upon days waiting
around, and a real sense of affinity.
The die-hard fans are the backbone of the music
industry. Without their unwavering dedication, we’d
never have had bands like The Beatles being spurred into
success. It’s the teenage girls spending their last pennies
on merchandise and streaming songs non-stop that are
holding up the industry on pure love and devotion. Rest
assured, if an artist has a following of teenage girls,
they will do everything in their power to ensure that
artist is successful. Teenage girls are shamed for their
commitment to their idols – even more so when they
support pop icons like One Direction or Justin Bieber. I
don’t think they should be. There is truly no greater force
than a crowd of teenage girls. I think their devotion to
music is inspiring and something to be cherished. I’m
eager to defend this community with every strength I
have, and I’m proud to be in it: it’s a community based
entirely on shared love and admiration for art.
With the perpetual hope that the pandemic is finally
coming to an end, I can’t wait to share plastic cups with
strangers before screaming some half-garbled chorus
with them. It’s this community of music fans I’ve missed
the most. I’m looking forward to the delight of live music,
certainly the elated shouting and the overpriced rum and
cokes. But, mostly, I’m excited to return to my spot on
the barrier, bump into the familiar faces, give them a hug
and ask them what they’ve been up to, because it really
has been too long. !
Words: Tilly Foulkes / @tillyfoulkes
Photography: John Johnson / @John.Johno
Tilly took part in Bido Lito!’s Bylines writers programme,
developing young culture writers of the future. Bylines
runs throughout the year for more information and to
find out about the next intake go to
bidolito.co.uk/workshops.
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