Young people are doing things differently. We need to be more like them

How a Jacob Collier gig taught me that experimenting with your work makes you vibrant and responsive, not ‘flighty’.

On Thursday night, my friend Sarah and I went to Bristol for the evening.

She had two tickets to a Jacob Collier gig, and had kindly invited me to go with her.

I started listening to his music on Spotify beforehand, as I hadn’t heard of him, and I couldn’t quite work out the genre.

Sometimes there was a woman singing; sometimes him. His music went from folk to funk to ballade to dance music. 

I was curious.

It was a beautiful sunny evening and we arrived at the mini festival site, got a pint of cider and spent some time looking at the crowd.

We noticed the 90s fashions, small groups marching through to find their place in the audience, older couples sweetly holding hands.

After a set from Louis Cole, Jacob Collier came on and the stage lit up.

Both with the lighting and him.

He bounced on with an energy I’ve never seen before, like he was on a flipping pogo-stick.

He welcomed us, warmly, and got us singing harmonies.

Before moving quickly and seamlessly onto his first song, bringing in two female vocalists, and moving over to the drum kit, which he played wildly.

Next, he hit the keys and played jazz piano scales.

He rapped.

Sang.

Danced.

Got us singing together.

Used a vocoder to add robotic layers to his voice and did a beautiful cover of Can’t help falling in love.

He played a synthesiser.

He performed his own music, and covered Queen.

Turned the crowd into a choir.

Got funky with a bass guitar.

There were couples in the crowd getting all romantic.

There was a young couple doing this incredible dancing, almost like a sequence.

I couldn’t stop watching them.

Him in green; her all in white.

They seemed so at ease with themselves and their bodies. Unselfconscious.

What I found most amazing about the gig was that I didn’t once feel bored.

Usually, an artist plays music of one genre and even if I love them, I’ll find my attention slipping away.

I might slink off to the toilet for a little break.

But with Jacob Collier, when I did need the toilet mid-set, I ran to the portaloo, did the quickest wee I could - and ran back.

I didn’t want to miss anything.

He held my attention by experimenting with different genres, sounds, instruments and energies.

He was upbeat and almost animalistic, as he jumped around the stage.

But then gentle and tender, as he spoke to the audience about making music.

He’s being hailed as the genre-defying artist of our times, and that is exactly what he is.

It’s what kept my attention the whole way through, but I also thought: 

Will it be harder for people to connect with him, if he doesn’t have a niche?

For instance, if you want to go to a gig and dance, and you can get down to the dance tunes but next up it’s a ballade, does that work?

Well, yes. It does. It did. It will continue to.

It could be said that Jacob Collier and his set have been designed for our short attention spans.

It was like going on TikTok and a different type of video popping up every few moments, keeping you there.

But actually, it’s deeper than that.

What he is doing is whatever the fuck he wants.

Unlike artists like Joni Mitchell, who got pigeonholed in folk but really wanted to paint and make jazz and waited until her later years to do this - he’s doing it now.

He’s doing all the things, on one stage.

Previously, artists would have been relying solely on their record label to market them but now, they do it themselves, on social media.

This gives them the freedom to make whatever music they want to make.

Instead of the label honing in on their niche, and only paying them if they stick with it, they do what they want.

And it’s the people (followers) who decide whether this is okay.

Judging by Collier’s 2.3m Instagram following, I’m guessing it is.

What is central to his music is him. And if the people like him, they like the music.

This is so empowering, for artists. 

But I also wonder if it’s something that we accept more from young people.

Looking around the crowd in Bristol, I saw young people dressed as goths, hippies, 90s grunge.

Next month, they might try a new style.

But for some reason, as we get older, we’re expected to ‘know’ our style and stick with it.

To ‘know’ our career path and to stay firmly focused on it.

My sister told me about someone she met who changed his job every seven years. An old guy.

He’d go from working as a teacher to training to be a doctor; lawyer to entrepreneur.

He threw out the rulebook because who writes it, anyway?

With my own work, as a writer, I know that if I write in one genre, and have a niche within that, it will be easier for people to know it’s me they’re looking for.

I trained as a journalist and stayed focused on writing articles until I was being commissioned by the Guardian, Telegraph, Grazia, Metro etc.

Writing mostly about motherhood meant editors thought of me when they were looking for someone to cover a piece about that subject.

But while I was grateful for the commissions, which gave me both money and validation, journalism doesn’t fulfil all my writing desires.

I need to write poetry, passages, fiction, non-fiction books, thought pieces on Substack.

I’m full of ideas and creative energy and I’m not willing to let it drift away and hone in on just the one craft.

Even if that would make me more ‘successful’.

Publishers love it when an author has a genre and a niche within it. It makes it so much easier to market them.

If I was Annie Ridout who writes non-fiction books about feminist issues, I could keep rolling out the books.

But instead, I’ve written books on freelancing, shyness and SQ.

I’ve written articles on parenting, sex, feminist issues, creativity - and so much more.

I understand why and how a niche works but I can’t seem to contain myself within one.

Even this newsletter covers a wide range of topics.

Again, if I only wrote about being a freelance mum, let’s say, it would be easier to attract people interested in that subject.

But what makes Substack so great for writers if that you’re not necessarily limited to a niche; you get to write about all the things that interest you.

And people sign up because they want to follow and support the individual writer.

(To all of you who have followed, subscribed and even paid to read my writing here: thank you.)

Most of my favourite writers span genres and themes.

Michelle Roberts writes novels and poetry, short stories and memoir. She’s a teacher, and loves to write about food but also women and France and love.

Zadie Smith writes novels, short stories, articles, essays and teachers. She does talks and has intelligent opinions and insights that she shares in interviews.

Sylvia Plath worked on a magazine before she ventured into poetry, novels and short stories.

Writing across several genres doesn’t dilute your talent.

Rather, creativity is an impulse that needs to be answered, not ignored.

There are also writers I love who do stick with one genre, like the poet Sharon Olds.

But they are probably the minority.

I know that when I committed to writing just poetry, for six months, I was able to turn it into a career.

I was commissioned by corporates to write poems, I ran a market stall selling my self-published poetry books and people started to see me as a poet.

But while I love writing poetry, and was starting to earn a decent living from it, like with journalism: it’s not the only writing I’m driven to do.

And Jacob Collier reminded me that to follow your energy and inspiration, and be lead wherever it wants to go, can be powerful (for the audience) and empowering (for you).

Here are three of his performances…

A beautiful ballade The sun is in your eyes.

Rapping on Count the people.

And a jazz piano number.

Enjoy the songs.

Enjoy your creativity.

And remember that it’s not just the youth who get to experiment; everyone can.

Dance into it much like the young couple I was admiring: like no one - and everyone - is watching.

Annie x