Accessibility as Revolution: Only The Poets Take the O2 Academy Brixton
- Hannah Breen
- 28 minutes ago
- 4 min read
I went to the O2 Academy in Brixton on a Monday night, mostly to avoid the fear of missing out on such a highly discussed event in the emerging music scene. The £1 tickets were unheard of, as was the preceding support-act competition I couldn’t resist seeing the winners of. I had never really listened to Only The Poets before, but their name has long floated around my feed, hinting at something cool that everyone else seemed to understand. I brought a friend along with me, a longtime fan, who spent the infamous wraparound queue of a sold-out O2 Academy gig talking about the brilliance of their discography and the genuine care the band puts into every line. By the time we arrived, I was no longer indifferent. I was sold. In the slow, persuasive way fans have, she convinced me that this night was not something to just sheepishly observe as an outsider; it was something to fully feel and experience.
The O2 Academy itself stands as a monument to music with its golden trimmings and the echo of every gig that has preceded. The walls of the bar are covered with an archive of posters from the long line of musical legends that have graced its stage. But once the music started, all of that grandeur felt completely secondary. The backdrop, unchanged from the first support act to the main set, proclaimed: “LIVE MUSIC IS NOT A LUXURY. LET’S KEEP IT ACCESSIBLE.” Big, bold, white letters that didn’t need flashy pyrotechnics or light shows to get their message across. The audience, already buzzing with energy, seemed to grasp this idea instinctively.
Belle Dame opened, an indie rock band that delivered bright bursts of sound, whilst SEREN followed, her powerful voice filling the hall. Both acts were winners of the Battle of the Bands competition hosted by Only The Poets to champion unsigned and independent artists. The crowd cheered and clapped for both acts, showing genuine respect for the courage it takes to face such a prestigious stage. Every note felt like an invitation into a space that so rarely accommodates the industry’s newcomers. The audience, the band, the emerging photographers, and the support acts formed one collective — insisting that the music industry should be generous, not gatekept.
Then Only The Poets took to the stage. Confetti flew, the crowd jumped, and from the first chord, it was clear this venue was entirely theirs. Everyone knew the lyrics. Frontman Tommy Longhurst led seamless clapping that echoed with joy. My friend leaned over to me mid-song, grinning, and I realized I was beginning to get into it too. It wasn’t because I had memorized their entire catalogue, but because the euphoric energy the band brought into the venue was wholly infectious.
They started with “And I’d Do It Again," but when they paused for breath before “Emotionally Hungover," Longhurst spoke passionately about the night’s significance: “It’s about starting a conversation that is so much bigger than us, and that’s accessibility. We will never stop talking about this.” Around me, friends embraced, shouting lyrics into each other’s faces. Every call-and-response was met with shrieks and cheers with unselfconscious devotion with a sense of unity that transformed the hall. It was messy, yes, but it felt intentionally precise in its chaos. Their debut album had only been out a few days, but the band had been performing together for nearly eight years. They shared, “We put everything we’ve been through in our entire lives into this album.” Listening, you could hear the layers of their history in every line, capturing late-night conversations, heartbreak, triumph, and doubt. The music felt lived-in, like a diary turned into song, yet it still clearly resonated with such a large audience.
This is why I love nights like this. I still believe that, despite the overly commercial world of streaming and stadium events, the music industry can still be human. Live music economics can often feel exclusionary, with soaring ticket prices set by Ticketmaster and algorithmically curated TikTok hype. Yet here was a band challenging that norm: £1 tickets, promoting unsigned acts, and a stage for emerging photographers. Ambition without pushing people away. Community without compromise. It’s easy to forget that music is still ultimately about connection, but Only The Poets reminded me exactly why that matters.
As I walked out after the encore of “JUMP!” and "Emotional," I felt a strange clarity. Though I arrived out of mere curiosity, I left with a belief in something greater. I was reminded that live music can be both radical and human, intimate and anthemic. I thought of my friend, the devoted fan who had sold me on the experience. She seemed to have known the stakes before I did. Yet by the end, she was cheering just as loud as anyone else, caught up in the energy waiting for us and for everyone else who had decided to show up to a gig on a Monday night. That’s the magic of live music at its best, the sense of community that it brings, both fleeting but also beautifully ours.
The O2 Academy in Brixton remains a big and imposing venue, but that Monday felt warmer and somehow more human than any gig I’d been to there previously. I think that’s the point. Music is about conversation, access, joy, and allowing anyone who wants to be part of it; Only The Poets made that clear, standing out from any other band right now for that reason. That’s why, despite the draw of cheap tickets and contests, I will remember this night not as a simple bargain for a London night out, but as a lesson in what music can and should be.
You can listen to Only The Poets’ latest album, And I’d Do It Again, on Spotify, Apple Music, and YouTube, and stay up to date with their upcoming shows on their Instagram.
Edited by Mahak Naddafi, Music Co-Editor.
