Funeral For A Friend: 2001-2016
Back in autumn 2003, there was a revolution for many of us. It was the first taste of independence, exciting and uncharted territory. Thrown into the mix of strangers, music quickly became the thing that defined us...not dress, weight, looks, or any other bullshit, but sounds.
A symphony was building, pre-social media it travelled by conversations at the lockers, at the common room table, leafing through Kerrang and Metal Hammer, home made badges and logos scribbled on folders. Who had heard of Funeral for a Friend's EP, who'd seen them, who knew what others did? And then it dropped, Casually Dressed And Deep In Conversation. I remember camping out at the indie record store, racing to college and blasting it from the stereo. No one in our group went to class that afternoon, within a week the copy had travelled far and wide. In the era of copy control, we copied radio blasts to mini disc, cassette, and walked round with disc mans to get maximum listening. It was definitive and heartbreaking in its capacity to soundtrack our lives. No single other release united us like theirs, we poured over the entire album committing it to our minds and our hearts.
Spin on a couple of years and times had changed. Greater uncertainty than ever before and suddenly we were on our own around, displaced and disbanded. A constant remained, music. It has a singular ability to connect to your heart, a simple hook will take you crashing back to a pin point in time, good or bad. At the lowest points, it can be a reminder that others have gone through this, and you can too. Hours was a follow up album that seemed to be written just for us, that looked out and laughed. That defied those who were defying us. That laid bare the irony and indifference and said 'fuck you'.
Funeral For A Friend are a band like no other, on a personal level they are, and always will be, the band who soundtracked some of the most defining years of my life. Admittedly, I lost touch over the years, follow up releases came and went but then I saw a gig advertised at our local club. It seemed almost impossible that they'd be in our town, but there they were. Not sure of what to expect, the gig blew us away. It was frantic, devastating in noise, energy and beauty and above all, triumphantly affirming. This is why they mattered, this is why we were there and this is how to fucking dance.
Less than 15 months later, the 'last chance to dance' dates were announced. It was equal parts sadness and celebratory - few bands have the ability to call time and to go out in the way that they want to, and want to be remembered by. The gigs at Manchester o2 Ritz were simply phenomenal. So many memories were created over those nights, never to be repeated - I've never sat and rowed at a gig venue, I've never saluted a band so much and I've never screamed the words to so many songs as part of a chorus of 1,500 other gig goers.
It's easy to look back and be sad that Funeral For A Friend are no more, but that's not what it should be about. Their music survives; their history, their legacy, is a part of ours. Their music is perhaps more relevant now than ever before, with all that is going on in the world and with so many things to be making a stand against. Thinking back now, there's so many references that don't exist - the format of music has changed, indie record shops are a novelty, and there's probably less of us supporting local bands in favour of the big shows. And there's a danger in all of this, that we revere what we know and we lose what we don't - we need to a take a risk on the new bands and artists, we have to keep supporting local venues as well as the big, because without it, we lose it.
Funeral For A Friend - thank you. Thank you for the lyrics, the songs, the memories and the gigs, the references, the breaking of new bands and for not giving up. Thank you for letting us say goodbye and having one last chance to dance. Thank you, forever and always.
A symphony was building, pre-social media it travelled by conversations at the lockers, at the common room table, leafing through Kerrang and Metal Hammer, home made badges and logos scribbled on folders. Who had heard of Funeral for a Friend's EP, who'd seen them, who knew what others did? And then it dropped, Casually Dressed And Deep In Conversation. I remember camping out at the indie record store, racing to college and blasting it from the stereo. No one in our group went to class that afternoon, within a week the copy had travelled far and wide. In the era of copy control, we copied radio blasts to mini disc, cassette, and walked round with disc mans to get maximum listening. It was definitive and heartbreaking in its capacity to soundtrack our lives. No single other release united us like theirs, we poured over the entire album committing it to our minds and our hearts.
Spin on a couple of years and times had changed. Greater uncertainty than ever before and suddenly we were on our own around, displaced and disbanded. A constant remained, music. It has a singular ability to connect to your heart, a simple hook will take you crashing back to a pin point in time, good or bad. At the lowest points, it can be a reminder that others have gone through this, and you can too. Hours was a follow up album that seemed to be written just for us, that looked out and laughed. That defied those who were defying us. That laid bare the irony and indifference and said 'fuck you'.
Funeral For A Friend are a band like no other, on a personal level they are, and always will be, the band who soundtracked some of the most defining years of my life. Admittedly, I lost touch over the years, follow up releases came and went but then I saw a gig advertised at our local club. It seemed almost impossible that they'd be in our town, but there they were. Not sure of what to expect, the gig blew us away. It was frantic, devastating in noise, energy and beauty and above all, triumphantly affirming. This is why they mattered, this is why we were there and this is how to fucking dance.
Less than 15 months later, the 'last chance to dance' dates were announced. It was equal parts sadness and celebratory - few bands have the ability to call time and to go out in the way that they want to, and want to be remembered by. The gigs at Manchester o2 Ritz were simply phenomenal. So many memories were created over those nights, never to be repeated - I've never sat and rowed at a gig venue, I've never saluted a band so much and I've never screamed the words to so many songs as part of a chorus of 1,500 other gig goers.
It's easy to look back and be sad that Funeral For A Friend are no more, but that's not what it should be about. Their music survives; their history, their legacy, is a part of ours. Their music is perhaps more relevant now than ever before, with all that is going on in the world and with so many things to be making a stand against. Thinking back now, there's so many references that don't exist - the format of music has changed, indie record shops are a novelty, and there's probably less of us supporting local bands in favour of the big shows. And there's a danger in all of this, that we revere what we know and we lose what we don't - we need to a take a risk on the new bands and artists, we have to keep supporting local venues as well as the big, because without it, we lose it.
Funeral For A Friend - thank you. Thank you for the lyrics, the songs, the memories and the gigs, the references, the breaking of new bands and for not giving up. Thank you for letting us say goodbye and having one last chance to dance. Thank you, forever and always.
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