mental health

Glastonbury ’95 It’s very difficult to describe the musical landscape of the time. Coolness had a militancy. Indie had a militancy. There were three or four music periodicals; each one acting like the town hall bell. Ringing out across the village to tell us; how we should behave. What we should like. Who we should hate. I was in a boy band. Antithesis: A person or thing that is the direct opposite of someone or something else. I was in a boy band, and there were rules. Rules set down by management. Rules laid down by peers. And unspoken laws etched into the locker doors of every teenage boy in this classroom we’ll call Earth. I was in a boy band. “You exist in a white box made of lavender hormones and naffness. You must stay in your box. And never, ever leave.” It was a very difficult place for me to exist. Difficult. Surreal. Head-melty. You see, I’d sing “A Million Love Songs” on Top of the Pops on Thursday night… …and then neck a gram of speed and four Es on Saturday, dancing my bollocks off at Miss Moneypenny’s. There were no phones. No cameras. No evidence. No harm, no foul. And, eventually, no serotonin. To the people looking on, it must’ve been like seeing your headmaster cutting his lawn. A person, an image, completely out of place. Out of context. Out of reason. I was in a boy band. And boy band members do not go to Glastonbury. You see - the thing is… I did though. _________________________ 📸 - Mick Hutson 🖼️ - Kate Oleska. Based on the original photo by Mick Hutson.