Revisiting The 1975’s Self-Titled Album 10 Years Later

I was introduced to The 1975 the way I think most people are: I heard one of their popular songs on the radio and remembered the band name from when one of my edgier friends was talking about them. The song I heard was “The Sound” and while it might not be the best representation of their overall vibe, I loved it and decided to dig deeper. That was seven years ago. Since then, they haven’t stopped making music, and I haven’t stopped listening. 

This year, the band’s self-titled album (their first full-length release) turns 10 years old. To commemorate, they played the album live, top to bottom, in Gorilla, Manchester (near where they grew up) and put the recording on Spotify. As you’ve probably guessed, I listened. 

I remember loving Self-Titled as an album because of what hit me at the time as some deep lyrics. The lead singer of the band, Matty Healy, isn’t afraid to get deeply personal in his writing, which is a theme for The 1975. Though they sometimes oscillate to broader political and cultural topics, the band has never shied away from earnest self-expression. 

To me now, I believe the self-titled album was an incredible show of potential. Let me pause here to go on a tangent because I think it will help clarify what I mean. 

Have you ever shown a friend a song and they responded with something simplistic and surface-level like, “Yeah that sounds nice!” and it makes you wonder if they are capable of abstract thought? Because I have. But I’ve realized the problem, and it’s not just me being too judgemental and pretentious about music (though that is part of the problem). Some people listen to music purely for the sound—or at least primarily for the sound. So much so, that the meaning in the lyrics takes a backseat, or no seat at all, to the sonic landscape of what you’ve shown them. Inversely, some people listen to music primarily for the words, and the music serves as a nice backdrop for the writer to communicate their feelings. 

Whether you’re a sound first or lyrics first person, you’ve probably been shocked at the behavior and preferences of your counterpart. But that’s not the point, I’m getting at something else here. I think some bands fall into the same traps as their listeners. They write and perform either as sound-first or word-first bands—and sometimes they switch back and forth. 

To be honest, I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing. I really like the Red Hot Chili Peppers, but it’s usually not for their lyricism. It’s normally just because I think they sound cool. (Sidenote: I want to take a moment here and say maybe the Red Hot Chili Peppers have super deep lyrics and maybe that’s been your experience and maybe I just don’t understand them.) Either way, being a sound-first band is a real phenomenon!  

But the reason I ask is because, to me, The 1975 stands out as a band that seems to equally prioritize their responsibility as instrumentalists and poets. This is the potential I saw in their self-titled record, and it’s why I still listen to this day. 

“Robbers” and “Heart Out” have a deep, yearning, heartbreaking quality in the lyrics. “Chocolate” sounds like it was crafted in a lab to be catchy. “Is There Somebody Who Can Watch You” features beautiful piano work and some of the deepest cutting lines of the album. 

When I first heard The 1975, I was firmly a lyrics-first listener. To be honest, I think I probably still am, but these days I’m trying to move toward being more of a sound appreciator. No matter which side I’m leaning into, though, I can turn on Self-Titled, and it still hits. 

10 years in, I don’t sense any stagnation. On “Live From Gorilla,” the band adds horn solos and extra guitar riffs that aren’t even featured on the original 2013 release of the album. Maybe you’re a sound-first listener, or maybe you’re a lyrics-first listener; maybe you’re just in the mood for a throwback! Whatever the case may be, I think it’s a good idea to revisit Self-Titled.