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I’ve been thinking a lot about Live Aid lately, and just how remarkable it really was. It’s easy to look back now and take it for granted, but in 1985 this was something the world had never seen before—a truly global live music event happening simultaneously across continents, broadcast to an audience of billions.
I don’t actually remember it at the time—I was only three years old—but I really appreciate it now. There’s something quite powerful about knowing you were alive when it happened. Even without firsthand memory, it still carries a kind of nostalgia and emotional weight.
From a technical and logistical standpoint alone, it must have been an absolute nightmare to organise. Two massive venues—Wembley Stadium and John F. Kennedy Stadium—linked together in real time, with constant artist changeovers. And yet, somehow, it all ran incredibly smoothly.
A big part of that was the simplicity. The stage design was almost stripped back—no over-the-top lighting rigs or elaborate sets. Just a revolving stage that kept things moving efficiently and ensured the focus stayed exactly where it should be: on the artists and the music. No distractions, no gimmicks.
And what artists they were.
Queen’s performance is often talked about as one of the greatest live sets of all time—and it’s hard to argue with that. Freddie Mercury had the entire crowd in the palm of his hand. Meanwhile, U2 delivered a raw, emotional performance, with Bono climbing down into the crowd and turning the moment into something completely unique.
And then there’s Phil Collins—who somehow managed to play at Wembley, jump on a Concorde flight across the Atlantic, and then perform again in Philadelphia just hours later. That alone sounds unbelievable even by today’s standards.
What really stands out to me is the sheer talent on display. No click tracks. No pre-recorded backing tracks. No safety nets. Just musicians walking on stage and delivering—live. It felt real, and I think that’s why it still resonates today.
Of course, beyond the music, there was the purpose behind it all. Organised by Bob Geldof and Midge Ure, Live Aid was about raising money and awareness for famine relief in Ethiopia. It wasn’t just a concert—it was a global call to action.
It’s hard to imagine something like that being pulled off in quite the same way today. Not because we lack the technology—but maybe because we’ve lost a bit of that raw, unfiltered simplicity.
For those who remember it—or have watched it back—what moments stood out most to you?
I don’t actually remember it at the time—I was only three years old—but I really appreciate it now. There’s something quite powerful about knowing you were alive when it happened. Even without firsthand memory, it still carries a kind of nostalgia and emotional weight.
From a technical and logistical standpoint alone, it must have been an absolute nightmare to organise. Two massive venues—Wembley Stadium and John F. Kennedy Stadium—linked together in real time, with constant artist changeovers. And yet, somehow, it all ran incredibly smoothly.
A big part of that was the simplicity. The stage design was almost stripped back—no over-the-top lighting rigs or elaborate sets. Just a revolving stage that kept things moving efficiently and ensured the focus stayed exactly where it should be: on the artists and the music. No distractions, no gimmicks.
And what artists they were.
Queen’s performance is often talked about as one of the greatest live sets of all time—and it’s hard to argue with that. Freddie Mercury had the entire crowd in the palm of his hand. Meanwhile, U2 delivered a raw, emotional performance, with Bono climbing down into the crowd and turning the moment into something completely unique.
And then there’s Phil Collins—who somehow managed to play at Wembley, jump on a Concorde flight across the Atlantic, and then perform again in Philadelphia just hours later. That alone sounds unbelievable even by today’s standards.
What really stands out to me is the sheer talent on display. No click tracks. No pre-recorded backing tracks. No safety nets. Just musicians walking on stage and delivering—live. It felt real, and I think that’s why it still resonates today.
Of course, beyond the music, there was the purpose behind it all. Organised by Bob Geldof and Midge Ure, Live Aid was about raising money and awareness for famine relief in Ethiopia. It wasn’t just a concert—it was a global call to action.
It’s hard to imagine something like that being pulled off in quite the same way today. Not because we lack the technology—but maybe because we’ve lost a bit of that raw, unfiltered simplicity.
For those who remember it—or have watched it back—what moments stood out most to you?
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