Britpop, Ska and Indie Rock and Roll: The Soundtrack to Our Romance Origin Story.

Walking down the aisle John Legend singing, Wonderwall on our wedding day, Must Be Love by Madness our first dance, What is it about Music that makes it such an important part of our love story?

Last night I went to a concert. I’ve been waiting and anxiously anticipating this night for months. It's the big night out for my husband and I. The one where we try and enjoy a live music event together. We aim to do this at least once a year as we look out for our favourite bands touring, then pray like hell to the rock and roll gods that we’re fortunate enough to get tickets. This time we did, for the legendary nineties rock-pop band: Stereophonics.

Gigs are always a night to remember for us whomever we’re watching. They’re often nights that centre around guitar rifts, band merch and drinking £4 bottles of water and £9 beers. I bought Stereophonics tickets for my husband as a birthday/wedding-anniversary present in January.

Music has played such a huge role in the origin of our relationship that I feel extremely guilty when we miss out on seeing our favourite musicians, because of my health issues. Having such unpredictable symptoms means, even with the benefit of accessible tickets, I never actually know until the day the concert arrives, whether or not I'm going to be able to attend. It’s such a huge let down when I have to cancel. I've lost countless pounds to tickets that I was unable to resell.

So what’s the story, why keep buying tickets knowing you may never get to use them?

Because live music has bonded us inexplicably and I refuse to give up the idea of being able to experience more of that with my best friend and husband.

He was the first person to really get me into the indie scene. Prior to meeting him I liked more mainstream chart music, a few inherited power ballads (thanks mum) and during differing phases of my teens, a lot of UK garage and RnB —think Kisstory and before that, Galaxy 101.

However, a lesser known fact about me is that I've always been a bit of a Rude Girl, skankin’ to Madness since my early teens and falling in love with urban soul.

I loved Reggae and Dancehall, the Beatles too, but my everyday favourites growing up were the likes of JaRule, So Solid Crew, Oxide Neutrino, Sean Paul, Beanie Man, Neo, Example, Britney Spears and P!nk. These days, I still adore Ska, definitely still love the Beatles and Pink, but I've mostly left the RnB scene (and all of its’ predatory producers.. (coughs)) back in the nineties and early oughts.

My husband on the other hand, has always loved indie, his favourites being: The Killers followed by the likes of Snow Patrol and Kings of Leon. I'm more of Britpop/Indie punk kind of girl, so my favs are the likes of The Libertines, Arctic Monkeys and Blur. Both of us with a joint love for Oasis and Kaiser chiefs.

The Libertines at Hyde Park in 2014 was our first proper gig together. Pete Doherty and Carl Barât’s comeback gig after a decade apart was pretty epic. On stage they were supported by world famous faces including: The Who, The Enemy, and even The Pogues were there, complete with legendary frontman Shane McGowan. It was the biggest concert I'd ever attended. Just a few months later we had planned our next gig, the one where I introduced him to my love of Ska. Stood at the back near the bar and jumping around to Nightclub, we swayed together watching The Specials at Camden Roundhouse. Music became our version of pebbling. A love swap. An exchange of love letters in song form like a modern version of making your friend a mix-tape.

When we came from Bath to live in Bristol we had an even more eclectic music scene to explore and have since watched live, The Kaiser Chiefs, The Specials for a second time, Libertines for a second and third time and The Fratellis twice, in our hometown.

As well as these names, we've watched many a pub singer together along with countless tribute acts. We've danced the night away in Dublin City, to renditions of Whiskey in a Jar, we've stroked the bronze of the Phil Lynott statue outside Bruxelles pub, and danced with our best friends to a Killers medley in the Celt bar. Our romantic life intertwined by lyrics like 🎶Whack for my Daddy-oh whack for my Daddy-oh it's whiskey in the jar🎶

At the beginning of our relationship we drank bottles of whiskey and smoked endless cigarettes, staying up all night to watch the sun come up, while singing 🎶We're burning down the highway skyline on the back of a hurricane that started turning when you were young.🎶

During our first holiday together in Benidorm we rocked out to Rod Stewart like we were the only two people in the world.

🎶If you want my body and you think I'm sexy, come on sugar let me know🎶

Unfortunately, later that week we also had to witness a disastrous Amy Winehouse impersonation. But, no matter where, or whom, each concert leaves my skin goosebumped and my blood pumping. When we're together it so often feels like music is ours alone, a secret aphrodisiac connecting us with invisible chords.

Our love of music has become so much part of our origin story that we even dance to every musical intro to our favourite shows. Power and Son's of Anarchy are some of our faves.

Every song we share with each other means something. Whether it’s just a reminder of a funny memory or something more poignant, our favourite tunes hold purpose and excitement. We got to know each other through sung verses and going to live music gigs became something to cherish together.

Yes, it's harder now, but I won't give up

Over the years my health has deteriorated so drastically, concerts and live music events have become much more difficult to attend. In our first years together we were dancing through crowds, holding hands, shouting at the top of our lungs, and jumping up and down while singing Mr Brightside. I hold those memories close to my heart and so I can't help but feel cheated having to miss out on more nowadays. Having to plan from moment to moment and try to allow for the varying flow of all eventualities.

To enable me to attend the Stereophonics' gig, I had to buy accessible tickets and show proof of my ‘disability entitlement’ at the online checkout. Only to get there and be told there weren't allocated seats. Of course I kicked off because if I had known this I wouldn't have gone at all. Eventually we did get our seats though, so no harm done, but the stress of having to go through things like this every time is a pain.

I wear a lanyard that lets other revellers know: I have ‘hidden’ disabilities. It doesn't often go with my outfit but I have to sacrifice my beauty standards if I'm going to be safe and able to enjoy my time.

Before I can even consider a gig I have to plan my entry and exit meticulously. I have to make sure my bag is packed with my medication and that I can evidence the need for said medication when my bag is inevitably searched on entry. Though not the case at Stereophonics, I have before had to watch a heavy handed man pull out my incontinence pants, that was embarrassing for everyone involved.

I can't stand for very long so I don't wear heels, another outfit restriction, and like I said, I have no choice but to order seated tickets so that I'm always able to rest every few minutes and as and when required.

Earplugs and light filtering glasses are stuffed in the allocated tiny bag alongside the medication and the incontinence pants, trying to avoid the embarrassment of leaks in a setting that has a mile-long queue to the nearest WC. Of which there are hundreds of people queuing for the disabled toilet and questioning my eligibility to use it. The cigarettes from the old days are gone, replaced with a steel vape pen and the whiskey is no more — it doesn't agree with my medication.

So many things to worry about and remember unsurprisingly causes rising panic in the base of my gut every time I see a band I love announce their touring. My heart charges as though it will launch out of my throat at the very thought of being in a huge crowd, hearing the thuds and feeling the vibration of other people in such close proximity. Sounds which once excited me, now frighten me.

The truth is, it's much more complex than even what I've explained above. However, music has helped create an unbreakable bond between my husband and I and I don't want to let it go. I also don't want to let him down. He would never tell me he's sad when he has to miss out because of my health, but I know he is, because I'm sad too. I know these things hurt him as much as they hurt me.

Then there are the times when it goes right and we don't have to cancel. The cheers for Kelly Jones last night felt as though they were cheers for me! Go on Stephy goodgirl, you made it! Imagined in Kelly's dulcet Welsh tones.

Music really does make the people come together. Gigging is quality time, amplified. There's nothing quite like looking into the eyes of your partner, or best friend and knowing your line is about to come into play, you're both screaming it out, staring into the crowd and each others’ souls.

This might sound cheesy to some, but for us it's essential tonic.

Thanks for a great gig last night Stereophonics we hope we can make another one in the not-so distant future.

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