The 1975 at Glastonbury 2025: A headline slot wasted through political ignorance
The 1975 are a band who have never shied away from headlines.
This bold approach to gathering publicity has always served them well. It has launched them to the loftiest stage in music: the coveted opening headline slot on Glastonbury’s fabled Pyramid Stage. But from this position of power, they abandoned this approach in such a startling manner that it made it seem like their antics have only ever been self-serving to begin with.
The most audible gasp of the evening arose shortly after a brief break in which Matty Healy ‘changed his trousers’, and it seemed the stage was set for the band to stick their head above the parapet. This didn’t happen. Instead, the frontman commented, “Use your platform, that’s what people say. People watching this, they might be disappointed at the lack of politics in this show, and our future shows.”
He continued, “I want you to know it’s a conscious decision, we don’t want our legacy to be one of politics. We want it to be that of love and friendship. I’m not trying to be too earnest, but you can go out into the world, and there’s loads of politics everywhere. I think we don’t need more politics. We need more love and friendship.” He’s half right, but I can assure you, we need a hell of a lot more than that, too.
He concluded his ill-informed and dreadfully middle of the road statement by commenting, “I know that’s really basic, but if you are a young kid and inspired by this band or something like that, don’t aspire to play a stage or be a certain size, aspire for this level of friendship and love in what you do.” The tail end of his taudry rhetoric seemed to be laden with irony, given how he had commented throughout that he was overawed and grateful to have made it to such a position.
However, that was the least problematic way in which he missed the point. Firstly, claiming to be apolitical is, in itself, a political act. Actively stating that you’re avoiding politics from a public platform is, by definition, a political decision, and it is one that upholds the dominant status quo by refusing to question it. As Healy points out, politics is, indeed, everywhere right now. So, it should be. Especially, at Glastonbury, as several other acts proved throughout the day. Often younger bands, who hopefully inspired their many young fans in attendance, with a message that love is a virtue we all need, but it isn’t a spanner that will halt the cogs of mechanical oppression.
There are 210,000 people at Glastonbury this year, a figure that falls short of the number of people who died in conflicts around the world in 2024. That startling statistic means it is more vital than ever that we actively apply pressure for peace in a meaningful way. Love and friendship are not going to bring those people back.
Legions of children around the world can not simply find inspiration in a band right now; they face the threat of death every day. So, to walk out onto the Pyramid Stage pretending to be drunk with a half-full pint of Guinness, and say that all the world needs now is a bit of fun is a misplaced message of rank entitlement. Amid headlines of worsening horror, Healy’s remark reads as: ‘We’re having fun up here on the Pyramid Stage, why aren’t you, too?’
Refusing to engage politically is one thing. Many acts over the course of the weekend will likely decide against making a statement, as is their right. But to make a statement about not making a statement is tantamount to actively granting a free pass to the rampant oppression that we see all over the world today. Such pompous neutrality masks its political position of side-stepping collective struggle in favour of neoliberal individualism behind daft emotional platitudes.
Focusing this message towards young kids also felt like further active encouragement of depoliticisation. This was a particularly puzzling moment from a band who have never abided by this message themselves in their youth. Glastonbury provided them with the perfect moment to create a movement that imagined a less torrid future, it’s what the festival was built on, and seemingly what Emily Eavis has been encouraging artists to do for weeks. But with The 1975, we didn’t just get a wasted opportunity; we got something far more offensive than that: a recognition of the struggles and a shrug of the shoulders to the plight.
Healy’s suave and shallow gesture is not an apolitical act of peace and love. It is a political submission to the rampant oppression that increasingly precludes any peace and love at all for the vast majority of people. It is a Guinness sipping refusal to imagine or advocate for alternatives, dressed up as neutrality and love, espoused by those comfortable enough to be able to do so. In a time of escalating crisis and inequality, actively promoting disengagement is troublesome complicity. The refusal to be political is itself a deeply political and reactionary stance, one that, contrary to what Healy says, the world does not need right now.
If you don’t want to be political, don’t be political, but to discourage others from engaging – inadvertently or otherwise – in a bid to have your cake and eat it with a non-statement-statement, does the opposite of promoting “friendship and love”. It actually advocates ‘individualism and apathy’.
