I have a bit of a confession to make. I once was a quite (read: very) committed fan of The 1975. In my defence, I was sixteen, and the world has changed quite significantly from the days anyone could sing along to “Oh, I think my boyfriend’s a nihilist” while retaining a shred of dignity. I went to see Matthew Healy and the rest of the band live at the O2, and once listened to Somebody Else in a frenzied state for four consecutive hours the night before my History GCSE. Simpler times.