Evie | H.S |

102. Seperating the art from the artist

When I was around twenty three, a band that I'd followed on tour got themselves in some hot water amongst the Australian music community and general media alike.

I'd known them for a long time and whilst we were good friends, I had to make the decision to distance myself as I could no longer support them and their behaviour; which was sad, because their music served as the soundtrack to my youth.

So, then came the whole 'can you seperate the art from the artist' argument.

For me, that decision was a no brainer.

As well as distancing myself and no longer physically supporting their music, I'd removed them from all of my playlists. We didn't hang out. When they'd reached out to my management to see if I'd support on one of their tours, it was a resounding no.

It was a simple choice.

As I stood in the crowd at Reggio Emilia, I couldn't help but reflect on that very same argument and how it could apply now.

Though this situation was so starkly different, I found myself watching Harry flirt about the stage in-front of over a hundred thousand people and battling with and awe-struck smile threatening my face. He was captivating wearing a silver set that caught the light with his every move. I was trying to deny my enjoyment but it was proving difficult.

I loved his music and his passionate enthusiasm. I loved the control he had over every single person in the crowd and I loved how he gave his all so readily. I loved the way he was so appreciative and humble, telling the crowd thank you in a million different ways, over and over again.

I wanted to hate him, if only just so it would make things easier for myself. But I couldn't.

Like his music, which had now become so deeply ingrained within a cultural shift in the music landscape, he was always going to be inescapable and I would always be drawn to him. I knew this.

And so, I tried to just seperate Harry from the music and enjoy myself while I was there and then I could leave.

As the stage lights illuminated the vast stage, casting a mesmerizing glow on his tanned and toned upper body, I couldn't help but be overwhelmed by a whirlwind of emotions.

He looked phenomenal. That was a given. Seeing him in his element like this made it difficult to believe there was ever a time he wanted me, of all people.

Black-and-white film camera
Yellow sunglasses
Ash tray, swimming pool
Hot wax, jump off the roof

But there was a time he did. Cause he was singing about it right now.

"Hello stranger!"

I felt the arm drape over my shoulder before I looked to the body attached. Tom and Tyler had spotted me in the crowd amongst family and friends. I stepped back to give them both a hello by way of a hug and a peck on the cheek. The fact that all of  Harry's loved ones still made the effort with me spoke volumes to the sort of person I knew he was.

"How are you?" Tom shouted over the music and directly into my ear as his arm returned to my shoulders.

"Been really good. How about you?"

With a laugh, he held up a cup of red wine which was all the answer I needed.

Harry had now reached the side of the stage directly ahead of us and we all watched in awe. I don't know that he could actually see any of us, but I couldn't help but feel every single lyric pelt into me like bullets to the chest.

I would ask,
'Should we just keep driving?'

"Glad to see you" Tom then added, giving me another squeeze that told me he was perhaps privy to what had gone down. "It's nice you made the effort."