Page 3 of New Year's Faye

I grabbed my mobile phone, prepared to ring in the new year with a livestream for their social media from my safe position in the wings.

The opening notes rang out—a raw, gritty guitar riff from Sam that sliced through the silence and sent the audience into a frenzy. He dragged the sound out, letting it reverberate through the speakers, each note hitting like a pulse, thrumming through the floor and into my chest.

The bass kicked in next, Felix’s deep, rolling line that seemed to come from somewhere primal, anchoring the wild energy of the song. Then Radley’s drums exploded like thunder the stage lights flashing in time with her beat—relentless, and somehow a little chaotic, matching the song’s name and spirit. The crowd, already loud, now erupted, their screams almost drowning out the music.

Justice stepped forward, owning the stage. His voice, dark and rich, poured into the mic, filling the space with a raspy intensity.

Wild Heartwas the band’s anthem, their first big hit and the one that had turned them into legends. The lyrics were rough and unapologetic, a love letter to every risk they’d ever taken, every rule they’d ever broken. Justice didn’t just sing it; helivedit, pouring every ounce of himself into each line.

"I was born in the dark, made for the fight,

Running on heart and a devil's light.

Broke all the rules, lost my way,

But I’d rather burn out than fade away."

The words cut through the roar of the crowd, drawing the audience in. Justice leaned forward, one hand gripping the mic stand, his other hand reaching out as if he were pulling them into his world. I could hear the screaming of fans as they sang along with him, their voices blending with his in a harmony that thrilled me.

“Wild heart, I can’t be chained,

Fire in my blood, lightning in my veins.

I’ll break the walls, I’ll tear apart?—

I’m a storm, I’m a spark, I’m a wild heart.”

The song built and built, each chorus more intense than the last.

I stood in the wings, delighted to capture this moment on camera—already knowing this would be a key feature for our social media campaign over the next few weeks.

But Sam, apparently, had other ideas.

He caught my eye mid-solo, a dangerous grin spreading across his face. I knew that look. That was his 'I'm-about-to-cause-chaos' look.

I narrowed my eyes at him in warning.

"One minute!"

The countdown began, voices rising in anticipation. Sam stepped back from his mic, still playing but now moving with purpose toward my side of the stage.

Toward me.

"Thirty seconds!"

“Oh hell no,” I mouthed at him, glaring with the fire of a thousands suns.

"Twenty seconds!"

He reached the edge of the stage, still playing, still grinning like the devil himself.

"Fifteen seconds!"

In one smooth motion, he pulled the guitar strap over his head, passing the instrument to a waiting stage tech without missing a beat.

"Ten!"

He caught my hand, ignoring my squeak of protest.

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