THE SOCIAL BUTTERFLIES

“ I’m starting to think the music is dead.” 

A bold proclamation that followed a series of substandard nights out on arrival into London. I wasn’t quite sure what I was expecting, but I knew it wasn’t this; this being a mixture of bars that themed themselves ‘metal’ or ‘punk’, full to the brim of poseurs and rich kids desperately trying to pass themselves off as poor kids to fit the motif. 

Even though it was early days for me, I’d been dreaming of this mythical place where the musical focus was always more about what you were saying than how much you were selling, a movement established by true pioneers who had had enough of the way they were being treated in society and chose rhythm as a way to kick back. A movement that was inclusive of all people, totally radical and ahead of its time, that sanctioned even just for an hour or two a space that you could come and be yourself, entirely free of the shackles of public humiliation. I was desperately in search of something, ANYTHING that could act as a glimmer of hope that this had not been completely saturated or lost in time. 

My passage took me down Denmark street in Soho, otherwise known as ‘Tin Pan Alley’. A once epicenter of music. A road where the likes of the Sex Pistols and David Bowie called home. On any given day you could find artists such as Bob Marley, the Kinks, The Stones, Hendrix, Jeff Beck, Stevie Wonder and even the bloody Beatles recording demos, or just frequenting the place where it all happened. While it would obviously be naive of me to expect too much from this lost paradise in 2022, it did feel like quite a slap in the face to be welcomed into the street by a mammoth TK Maxx, an ironic representation of the battle lost. A giant flag of victory stuck into the guts of music by our old pal commercialism. Fuck this. 

I got on the bus and this was where I made my sad decree, maybe music as we knew it is over. The man won. 

Then entered … The Social Butterflies… 

Now; for context, I had first heard about this band months ago from a photographer I met in Thailand. I sat at the table of a hostel, scrolling through some brilliant flicks by this young talent, and queried about the band I was looking at. 

“They’re the best band in Brighton and some of the best people I know”. 

I can’t quite tell what it was exactly, but something about them caught my eye. Something about them burned into my brain and gave me hope that maybe the scene wasn’t dead, I was just looking in the wrong places. I could see the phenomenon through the screen.

As fate would have it yet again, their final show aligned with a trip to Brighton I was taking with a  friend from home. Armed with nothing but a google map pin location and a bottle of Jack, we made the trek in. Partly to find the answer to my decree, but after two weeks of dud nights in London, we were mostly just seeking a good time. 

And oh boy did we. After hiking through woodlands and encountering numerous foxes ( a rare treat for two Australian girls), we were welcomed into a clearing in the woods by a group of young people, dressed in all different styles. How fantastic for there to not be a single word to sum up this motley crew. 

My friend and I sank into a makeshift hammock and watched as the frontman , Emile, frantically ran around the clearing, imploring whoever was closest to him to help hang signs or lights, or to find out where their bassist was since it was already 20 minutes past start time. We looked at eachother, knowing that this was it. This was what we were searching for. Our very own pot of musical gold. 

As the sun made its final descent over the horizon, and all three members were present, the band picked up their swords and made an announcement ; 

“Ok. Two announcements. Number one, don’t stand on the fucking leads. Ok? Great. Number two, the petrol generator over there, will blow us all up. Stay away from it. Especially you smokers, which is all of you. Im serious, stop fucking laughing.”

He then pulled out a thin piece of cardboard, and the bass and drums began to beat. The crowd all stood up and moved closer in as Emile read out a sort of slam poem, everyone rhythmically swaying as they rolled their cigarettes. Not near the generator, of course. 

The crowd began to stir. Their smiles grew wider, as did their pupils. Bodies drew closer and closer as the crowd and their fierce leaders slowly became one entity. Their ‘stage’ was without barrier, the only thing weaving in between being the photographer, who at one point you could find meters up a tree attempting to capture this moment, this movement. 

I spoke to him after, about his time with the band, and how this was the last gig. They affectionately had labeled him the fourth social butterfly, a spin off of the interchangeable role of the fifth beatle. He said it was bittersweet that it was all over, the reason being the boys all going off to different unis at the end of the month, but that he was happy to be a part of this. Without him, there wouldn’t even be any tangible evidence that this moment existed, and what a beautiful concept that is. 

But back to the band. 

If this were a stage play, the characters would have been meticulously meditated on, each serving completely different purposes while simultaneously and unanimously propelling the storyline forward. 

As lead, we have Emile, genius mastermind and mad showman of the forest. Costumed in a tattered black suit, baby blue button down and a skinny tie. His raven hair ran slick and thin across his forehead as it built up with sweat from his feral dance moves ; but boy how he moved! As if he were possessed by some force greater than himself, he could twist and thrash and shake his boney body in a way only comparable to that of some sort of sadistic love child between a birthday party era Nick Cave and John Lydon. 

It was as if he were under a spell… a spell conjured by our supporting actor , and bassist, Henry. 

The sexy saboteur to Emiles unnerving, adorned in an unassuming brown suede jacket and trousers, his mousy brown hair cut up in the style of Keith Richards. Henry wore his bass low as he effortlessly swayed around the stage and through the crowd, all the while puffing on a seemingly endless cigarette that he would secretly reset between every song. 

They were polar opposite, yet equally as undomesticated. Their saving grace? 

The real man of the hour; Felix.

Tame and humble hiding in the back sat the glue that held this otherwise loose hinge together, both energetically and rhythmically. 

Two show ponies and their rock. 

The absolute essence of a fantastic trio. 

In between songs the crowd were given a chance to find their footing again before being launched back into it as the next started. During these intervals, Emile could be found having a swig of whatever alcohol he could seem to get his hands on, while the other two were gesturing for a lighter, or having general chat with the crowd.

You could tell that they didnt give a fuck what people thought of their music - nor their looks, or attitude, or blatent substance use. They had something to say, something to share, and created a space for the people to come and do the same. A mutual reclaim of self expression through music and movement, just as humans have been doing since the dawn of time. They didn’t try to sell CDs or merchandise afterwards - in fact, the only way to get a rare Tee was for them to pick you as a good audience member - although the honor of the tshirt holder went to the photographer, well deserved. 

Once they finished the live show, the party really kicked off. Someone plugged their phone into the now blown amp, and a series of songs continued to lead the highly intoxicated yet highly ecstatic crowd late into the night. Everything goes in a place like this. Slow dancing to disco, making out with strangers, conversations about God and death and everything in between  - our own little world  right there in the middle of the woods. 

Thank you social butterflies for giving this little Australian the push to continue on my quest. You are the firework up my ass that will propel me into the UK music scene in a way that I’d always dreamed of. I can’t wait to see where your personal endeavors take you next.