Our interview series Icebreaker features artists talking about things—some strange, some amusing, some meaningful—that just might reveal their true selves. This edition features Matt Healy, frontman for sly British pop band the 1975, who are on tour all summer.
Pitchfork: What’s a moment in your life when you felt like a complete idiot?
Matt Healy: There are so many. At South by Southwest in 2013, I was standing by the side of the stage and Usher—actual fucking Usher—bounded over to me, like, “Yo man, what’s up?” And I’m like, “Hello, mate. How you doing?” And then he made some weird excuse and left very quickly. As he was leaving, I realized he thought I was fucking Skrillex, and it pissed me off so much. I haven’t run into him since—but I’m definitely going to pretend to be Skrillex if I do.
When you start becoming a pop star, you think, Hold on a second, maybe my life is different now—maybe all these people that I thought of as celebrities are going to be normal, and when I walk into a room I’m going to be really cool and so is everyone else. But that’s not what happens at all—I was awkward, and then I just retreated from any social engagement for about a year. I’m a bit of a hermit now. Russell Brand has an amazing quote: “My life is a series of embarrassing events strung together by me telling people about those embarrassing events.” I empathize with that.
What’s the YouTube video that you’ve watched more than any other YouTube video?
The Coldplay Turtle. Any time I’ve been at a computer, I’ve watched that fucking video. It makes me piss myself. I just love it so much.
What’s the last song you heard that made you cry?
“Unsatisfied” by the Replacements. It’s just about belief and properly connecting, especially in the vocal delivery—he takes breaths when you shouldn’t be taking breaths because he’s pushing so hard for every note. I’ve heard it a billion times, but I recently listened to it on the Tube when I just got back off tour and was quite happy. I was nearly home, and it was quite late. There were people around and shit, and I got a bit teary—but I wasn’t like a dude crying to the Replacements on the train. I’m emo enough as it is.
How would you describe yourself as a dancer?
Dancing was my thing when I was a kid and, at the risk of sounding like a dick, it’s still part of how I express myself. I just go with it; I haven’t got any planned moves. I need to keep my dancing on the right side of weird, otherwise it might get a bit like “American Idol.” Growing up, I was obsessed with Michael Jackson. I saw him at Wembley when I was 7 years old, it was my first proper show. He was like a god to me. My heroes were always huge mega stars like Prince or Michael; I never wanted to be an “indie” frontman.
Do you think your life would be better or worse without social media?
Obviously there’s negative elements to it: Being in a band, things are slightly demystified now. I don’t know whether we’ll have another Michael Jackson or Elvis, because the world’s too quick to level the playing field in that regard. For example, if Michael Jackson did the moonwalk for the first time now, and it debuted on Twitter, the third comment would probably be: “He’s just walking backwards.” Everything’s immediately diminished. That’s why there’s no real rock stars anymore. People are too accessible.
What’s your life motto?
Something that sticks with me is a David Foster Wallace quote about ego: “You’ll become way less concerned with what other people think about you when you realize how seldom they do.”
What’s a band that you really love that people might not expect given the type of music that you make?
The Dixie Chicks. Wide Open Spaces is a fucking amazing record.
Do you believe in ghosts?
Of course I don’t. That’s a fucking ridiculous idea. If we know that there are types of micro bacteria under one type of rock in one part of fucking Madagascar, I think we’d have at least a tiny bit of evidence that ghosts exist. It’s like that fucking show “Ghost Hunters”—they’re on like series nine, and there’s never been one ghost. Imagine a food program that’s in series nine but there’s never been any food on it. It’s fucking mental.
I don’t believe in anything blindly supernatural. People think that atheists have nothing to live for, but that’s not true—it’s that we have nothing to die for. The idea of being part of this tapestry of humanity is a far more enlightening idea for me than believing you are going to this different place when you die. The magic of reality is far more potent.
What would you want written on your tombstone?