“You know you’re not Penny Lane, right?” | A love letter to ‘Almost Famous’ from a touring photographer and gig-lover

Posted On September 26, 2025September 26, 2025

“You know you’re not Penny Lane, right?”

My boyfriend is a singer, on his first tour opening for a major artist, and he’s an asshole. He’s in a potentially mid-level band, struggling with his own limitations. I’ve got a head full of big blonde curls and my first Afghan coat, and I’m starry-eyed.

The first time I watched Almost Famous was in the middle of the first Covid lockdown, and it instantly became one of my favourite films. Penny Lane was one of the coolest girls I’d ever seen: charismatic, passionate, and inextinguishable, even in the face of heartbreak. Penny and William’s open passion for the music and the band was inspiring; it might have been the first time I’d seen fans represented in such a positive light. The thrill of the road and the adventures along the way was everything I’d dreamed of.

I was fresh out of university in a dead-end town with one music venue tucked away under a train station, and a largely disinterested social circle. I’d been growing into a dedicated gig-goer since my early teens, in love with the magic of music and the spectacle of a live show. As soon as I finished my studies, I hightailed it to Brighton, a hotbed of bohemian grassroots creativity that had been a dream for me to grow into. A few months in, I had met a boy in a band and fallen head-over-heels in love. He moved in with me for lockdown; I took photos of him on film, and he wrote songs about me in my bedroom.

The following year, the boyfriend landed his first tour opening for a major artist, traversing across the country over the course of a couple of weeks. The drummer’s girlfriend and I followed them to almost every show, singing every word to every song (especially the bad ones) and finding some particular and unique sense of sisterhood along the way. The girls in the crowd screamed, and the boys with the long hair were deified under the stage lights.

When it came to the last date of the tour, my boyfriend asked if I wanted a photo pass, and I couldn’t say yes fast enough. I’d been taking photos for a few years by then, and had fostered a longtime dream of shooting a gig, something I’d been talking about since my uni days but that hadn’t happened for me yet. I peeled the sticky back off my pass and assumed my spot side of stage.

My first time behind the barrier was a moment of piercing the veil. Suddenly, the figures on stage were within reach; if I were to just stretch out my fingertips, all the characters once elusive and untouchable now felt practically tangible. Heading back to the green room after the show, I was welcomed with open arms. The main support’s photographer immediately took me under her wing when I told her it was my first time ever shooting a gig, and in a flurry of handshakes and hugs, I became one of the team.

Crossing the barrier is something akin to a magician revealing his trick. There’s a certain spell cast by the unknown, a wonder to the performance of it all when observed from the audience. Behind the scenes, the show is a machine of moving parts that are all too human. Backstage after the show, they all sweat and smell the same as anyone next to you in the crowd.

One thing the movie unfortunately accurately relayed is that a number of the men in the industry are assholes. It’s a breeding ground for inflated ego, substance abuse and escapism. From what I’ve seen, the hedonism of show life sinks its claws further into some than others. Long story short, I ditched the asshole boyfriend and kept the career.

Post-breakup, I booked the trip to Morocco and made sure I got the window seat.

I settled back into my life in Brighton, going to gigs often multiple times a week, learning what my community had to offer and discovering some of the best music I’ve ever heard. Gradually, everything started to make sense.

I started shooting for bands whose music I deeply loved and believed in, and gained some of the closest friends I’ve ever known. The journeys went from trains, to vans, to planes, and now a growing collection of sticky passes and lanyards colour up my bedroom walls and bedposts.

I remember my first green room like it was yesterday: a bundle of nerves and imposter syndrome. Then suddenly I’m in the back of a van on the way to the next London headline show, and we’re all singing along to the radio buried under half a dozen guitar cases, and I realise I’m right where I belong. I shoot shows, festivals, behind the scenes, interviews, posters, album artworks. I run around the country, I turn hotel rooms into homes, and my eternally half-unpacked suitcase lives in my hallway.

I still believe the fans truly are the backbone of the music industry, and a huge proportion of them are younger women. It was so cathartic to see a film really get it: the girls that truly love the music and those who are creating it and performing it, and giving them their flowers. So often dismissed as young and naive, watching William chew out the band for taking Penny for granted was so validating and (25 years later) still remains culturally relevant.

Often, movies idealise life, and while Almost Famous has the highs, so much of its appeal stems from the lows. The band is cool and on the road to stardom, and they’re also flawed and fallible and inevitably human. Watching William’s journey from green-teen feeling awestruck and out of his depth to a talented young man with self-conviction is great to watch onscreen, and an even greater spectacle to experience in real life. Penny being confronted with her lack of appreciation and her ultimate prioritisation of herself and her bigger dreams is aspirational.

At the end of the day, I think everyone just wants to feel a part of something larger than themselves and find that sense of belonging. The thrill of the screaming fans could never get old, and I truly believe everything always comes back to the same common denominator: the love for the music.

I’m a few years into my career as a music photographer now, having just finished my MA in Fashion Photography at my dream university, and I’m so excited to leap back into the arms of the music community in Brighton, my chosen family. As ever, my Stillwater vinyl remains the pride of place in my record collection.

I leave for my first official tour as a band photographer late October, Penny Lane coat in tow.

It’s all happening!

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