Photo courtesy of Dana Gorab

So, when I was a teenager, one of my favourite things was when I got home from school: I'd throw my bag down, chuck my blazer on the bannister and me and my mum would watch an hour of music TV. You know Kerrang, MTV2, Scuzz, etc. It was my favourite time of the week.

Before we found these channels I listened to mostly Brit-pop and punk bands my dad listened to on cassette. I fell in love with the angsty lyrics and guitar riffs on display; it felt highly relatable to me and my puddle soaker jean lifestyle. But king among them for me was Linkin Park.

They were basically my gateway drug to modern rock. I'd never heard such a fusion of pure aggression, melody and throwback hip-hop.

So then, picture the scene: it's the summer of 2003 and Meteora had just come out earlier in the year. With YouTube not being invented, I had no idea what to expect at my first ever live show. All I had to go on was glitzy music videos.

So there, in the crowd with my mates anxiously awaiting what was to come. As soon as the lights came up and the band exploded on stage… the energy, the performance. I was just overwhelmed. It was an experience you can only live once.

The crowd singing to every word, the jumping, the circle pits. I was overwhelmed with emotion that I couldn't keep inside my stupid teenage body. I desperately wanted to be the one on that stage making people feel that way from that day forward.