Tom Dunne: Billie Eilish was fab in Dublin but the generation gap still exists
A recent image of Billie Eilish on stage. (Picture: Gareth Cattermole/Getty)
Billie Eilish has blown my “Generation Gap no longer exists” theory out the window. I was at her gig in 3Arena, Dublin, last weekend. I loved it. But I didn’t love it the way my daughter did. She, who is 17 this week, cried tears of joy. Christmas has competition for best day of the year.
This theory has been a long time on the back burner. I think music streaming and how music has evolved have changed things. There was a time when new artists seemed like an affront to anyone over 30. But not any more.
Causing offence was part of the job. They needed to cleanse the palate and move the previous generation aside by being louder, more brash and more dangerous. They needed to ignite the tabloids, make someone say, “It’s just bloody noise.”
But if you were part of the generation that grew up on Ozzy eating bats you could be quite hard to offend. If you loved Nick Cave and Johnny Cash it would take a lot of darkness/insight/wisdom to impress you.
You tended to hone in on the song. No one really gets past the shock troops stage if they don’t also have a few tunes. These might appear very different to your day, each new generation faces new challenges, but the themes remain the same.
Trying to find out who you are, where you fit and who with is as old as time. And people expressing that struggle in song to each new generation of teens is nothing new. Doing these using guitars, synths, beats, samples, raps and variations on these has become the norm.
Hence someone like me can like The Cure, Nirvana, Blur, Radiohead and NWA, but also Wet Leg, Taylor, Phoebe Bridgers, SZA, Fontaines DC, CMAT and Kneecap. And my daughter can like the exact same bands but in reverse order.
In the UK this has lent itself to the BBC 6Music Dad phenomenon. These are dads that you’ll see at the back of concerts by the Last Dinner Party and Yard Act. They dress similarly – vintage T-shirt, jeans, Harrington jacket, man bag – and even have 6Music hats. But they know things.
My “Generation Gap is Over” theory was on the ropes within minutes of arriving. I found myself sharing a pre gig drink with PJ Kirby and Kevin Twomey of the podcast. It was an Old Media (print and radio) v New Media (podcast, socials, influencing) stand-off.
It got off to a great start when PJ reassuringly put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Oh thank God, I thought I might be the oldest person here.” Oh, how we laughed.
He and Kevin were fantastic fun but sadly the time to take our seats arrived before PJ could explain to me how I might inhabit the “influencer” space. Now no one will ever know which stunning, radiant, light-filled cold beer I was lovingly nursing before I went in. The brewer’s loss, not mine.
Further indications of the generation gap were evident inside. Once you pass a certain age it is incumbent on you to mention how amazing everything is these days. The seats, the venue, the lights, the sound, the staff, the access, the beer. It wasn’t like this… you know the drill.
And then Billie hit the stage. It will be hard to write after this without using the word “wow” a lot. The star quality, the voice, the songs, the connection with the audience, the excitement, the emotion, the energy and the use of mobile phones and fan groups to turn 3Arena into the Irish flag of green white and gold. Wow, and double wow.
Billie’s is one of those songs that I could listen to on an endless loop with Radiohead’s and Massive Attack's It, like them, mesmerises me, soothes me, carries me away. It is pure, unadulterated heaven.
My daughter was back the next night with her mates. I knew I’d inhibited her enjoyment. “How was it this time?” I asked, “Better?”
“Yes,” she said “I had a right old sob. It was magic.”
And that is the Generation Gap right there. I love Billie’s music, but for my daughter loves it differently. For her and her generation, Billie talks to their souls, inhabiting with them and lighting that private world in a way we can only guess at.
You can’t touch this, as the man said.
