EPT
What differentiates them from the rest of the pack then, especially noticeable in this absolute shithouse of a year, is their earnestness. When they sing on their farewell track ‘Hymn on the 45’ that “I guess that they were right, I’ve never been a success in my life”, there’s a real sense that they believe it; that breaking up here is a failure to deliver on the promises of their formation in 2008. When they add “But I’ve got you, and a hymn on the 45”, there’s a similar sense that they truly believe in the restorative power of friendship and music. Call it naïve, but there’s a comforting romanticism there quite apart from the cynicism that’s slowly taking over the world.
It’s an emotional thread that permeates their whole three-album discography, from ‘Dreaming’ and ‘Silver Dollars’—songs which effectively lay out the band’s mission statement right from the start—to the wistful emotion of ‘Capricornia’, and the playful enthusiasm of ‘Bright Eyes’ closing out their catalogue as their penultimate release. “I feel better hanging out with you” indeed.
If there’s one thing that’s truly galling, it’s the fact that it looked and sounded like they were getting better and better, and the band’s farewell live performances in particular, captivating an 800+ capacity crowd, were unrecognisable from the debutants I first saw in early 2011, playing their tracks to about 15 people in a pub. Not that they were ‘bad’ then (on the contrary it was love at first sight, and indeed I’ve treasured every time I’ve watched Allo Darlin’ live), just that the bittersweet nature of a farewell show perhaps freed everyone up, from Paul and Mike’s duelling solos, to Bill’s effervescent stage persona, to Elizabeth dominating the stage as ever. There probably won’t be many more powerful memories for me anytime soon than hearing the opening chords to perhaps my favourite of their songs ‘Wonderland’ kick off one final pair of gigs, or choking back a tear when singing the final refrain “Feels like the world is ending, but I’m with you, and I don’t care”. Yes it did; but yes I was, and no I didn’t.
So goodbye Allo Darlin’ then, although I live in hope of a reunion show down the line. At going on six years, this has been in some ways by far the longest relationship of my life, and for wholly selfish reasons it’s this loss that’s somehow hit me hardest in a year of shitstorm after shitstorm.
You were a constant in my life, whether on the daily grind on the bus, on the train, in a van or on a plane; or the joy of catching you live (again and again). Everyone’s got a set of songs that stick in their psyche, soundtracking days, months, years of their life. For me, 2011-2016 were you; song after song with special meanings; special memories attached. It’s likely that the rest of the 2010s, and the 2020s, and however many decades I have left will be too; just that I’ll have to make do with the familiarity of the past rather than the excitement of the future.
So again; how does a band know they've made it? Sure, nice things like money could come in handy I guess, but at the end of the day, all they have to do is matter. Whether they matter to ten people or ten million, all they have to do is to make people's lives better for having heard them. And, judging by the capacity crowd at the Scala, that Allo Darlin' did.
For the whole weekend, you wore T-shirts spelling out a characteristically cheerful goodbye note; “Allo Darlin’ <3 You”. I just hope you know that some of us loved you too.
![[image loading]](http://i.imgur.com/NmCkZKr.jpg)
