On the morning of March 27th the Liverpool based band Her’s died in a car crash. Stephen Fitzpatrick and Auden Laading along with their tour manager Trevor Engelbrektson, were headed to a show in Santa Ana at the time of the accident.

Their label Heist or Hit made the announcement early March 28th with heavy hearts stating “their energy, vibrancy and talent came to define our label. As humans, they were warm, gentle and hilarious. Each time they stopped by the office made for an uplifting experience... The world was at their feet.” Following the release of their album Invitation to Her’s, the band was on their second tour of North America playing sold out shows to audiences that adored them.

Her’s felt like pure sunshine. With their sweet little love songs that made you feel like you were in some 80s rom-com and the love of your life was about to pull up on a lawn mower blasting “Marcel,” they made everything seem dreamy. Their debut album, Songs of Her’s, jangled and jittered with catchy hooks and 80s inspired beats from a drum machine. Fitzpatrick’s dark droning vocals on “What Once Was” and sugary falsetto on “I’ll Try” accentuated by Ladding’s elastic playing style gave them an eccentric introduction. Continuing their surrealist-pop approach on Invitation to Her's, the band produced a record that felt like a collection of your old favorites upon first listen. Making you swoon and smile, the album proved Her’s was something special.

Still it wasn’t the infectious melodies or synthy nostalgia they encapsulated that made people fall in love with Her’s, it was the light they emitted. Radiating love not only for the music but for one another, you could tell just from their on-stage antics the natural chemistry and unbreakable bond they shared. Best friends from their first days at uni, Ste and Auden brought a brightness that illuminated countless lives. Scrolling through my feed the morning after the accident I was overwhelmed by the amount of love expressed for the pair. Stories of them supporting the scene, showing up to sets for bands they had met hours before and sticking around to share a beer and tell them good job. Stories from their friends and families that highlighted the kindness and charisma that only those close to them had the privilege of knowing.

There were stories too from people like me who never got to meet Ste and Auden, but who have been touched by them just the same. People whose lives have unfolded with Her’s in the background, through all the awkward kisses, first introductions, dance parties, road trips, sunrises, sunsets, and late nights spent surrounded by the people you love that wouldn’t be the same without their retro shimmer-pop playing.

In creating something so deeply personal, Her’s became intertwined in people's lives in such a raw way despite being strangers. Unconsciously leaving behind such an intimate part of themselves in their music, they’ve given us something to hold on to. Forever preserved in their records, people will continue to sing along, get red-wine wasted, roll all the windows down, smile, laugh, cry and live their lives with Her’s being a vital part of it. Ste and Auden will continue to live on through the people who loved them and their music. Though they are no longer with us, they will forever be in those records and in our hearts.

samantha sullivan