The impromptu Glasgow performance and When You Fly Low

The impromptu Glasgow performance and “When You Fly Low” begin as a backstage emergency and become a defining moment in Daisy Jones’s commitment to her own songs. When Daisy’s backing band vanishes before the show, she has to perform without the arrangement she expected. The improvisation that follows gives her a different kind of connection with the audience—and leads Billy Dunne to join her onstage for “Honeycomb,” turning a practical rescue into an intimate musical encounter witnessed by thousands.

The disruption before the show

By the time The Six reached the backstage area, Daisy’s band was nowhere to be found. Eddie Loving later explained that Hank Allen had gone to the Apollo on his way out of town and taken all five musicians with him. Daisy described the band as having simply walked out; she did not know what to do. The loss was immediate and concrete: the independent set she was meant to play had no band to play it with.

The accounts also place this disappearance amid a transition in Daisy’s professional relationships. Hank described their working arrangement as a strictly professional relationship that ended by mutual decision over differences about the direction of her career. Billy Dunne initially wondered whether it would really be a problem if Daisy missed a night, then realized that Rod Reyes was probably managing her now and that, from Rod’s position, it mattered greatly. Rod was already trying to contain the damage. With Rolling Stone journalist Jonah Berg in the audience, an improvised solution was not merely a way to keep the show moving; it was also a public test of Daisy’s ability to meet the moment.

Daisy did not want simply to withdraw. She suggested going on alone, intent on doing something rather than giving up. Rod proposed that Graham Dunne accompany her on acoustic versions of songs from her album, but Graham was distracted. Eddie volunteered instead. The substitution was made under pressure, without a planned set or a settled musical arrangement, and sent Daisy and Eddie onstage with little certainty about what would work.

From a makeshift set to an original song

Daisy and Eddie began with pared-down versions of “One Fine Day” and “Until You’re Home.” Daisy judged the set acceptable but not powerful enough to make the impression she wanted, especially with Jonah Berg watching. For the final song, she decided to abandon the plan and try “When You Fly Low,” a new song she had written.

The first attempt at accompaniment did not take shape. Daisy gave Eddie a beat and a key and asked him to find something; Eddie later emphasized how difficult it was to invent a part on the spot. As she tried to settle into a rhythm, the arrangement failed to support the song. Daisy stopped trying to force it, and the audience laughed with her rather than turning against her. She began singing a cappella, with her tambourine and the beat of her feet. Eddie stayed behind her, tapping a rhythm on the body of his guitar.

That adjustment made the performance’s uncertainty part of its form. Instead of concealing the missing band behind a polished substitute, Daisy let the audience witness the song taking shape around her voice. She had worked the lyrics over carefully, and she felt that every word belonged in the finished song. The stripped-down performance made that authorship central: she was singing material she had written herself, rather than relying on the backing band or a prepared arrangement to carry the moment.

The audience and Daisy’s discovery

The crowd followed the improvised performance closely. Daisy felt that the listeners were rooting for her, and afterward she believed she had turned a precarious set into a good show. Her account gives the audience more than the role of a cheering backdrop. As she watched people near the front listening, she felt connected to strangers from another country whom she had never met. The response showed her that the song could travel beyond the circumstances in which she had written it and reach people through its words and feelings.

That connection clarified what Daisy valued in music. The sounds, the crowd, and the excitement mattered less to her than the emotions, stories, and truth that could pass through a song. She understood music as a means of digging beneath the surface to reach something felt but not yet expressed. Singing “When You Fly Low” reaffirmed her desire to make an album of her own songs. The performance therefore changed the stakes of the night: it was no longer only an emergency caused by her missing band, but evidence to Daisy that her own writing could hold an audience.

Billy watched from backstage and recognized that Daisy was better than he had understood. When Daisy finished, the audience responded enthusiastically. As she began saying goodbye and introducing The Six, Billy decided that he and Daisy could perform “Honeycomb” together. His choice moved the night from Daisy’s solo demonstration of authorship toward the musical partnership that would make their shared performances so charged.

“Honeycomb” and the return of The Six

Billy walked onto the stage while Daisy was still speaking and asked the audience whether he could join her for “Honeycomb.” Eddie, who had been sitting with his guitar, expected Billy to ask him to play; instead, Billy asked to borrow the instrument. Eddie handed it over in front of the crowd, but resented being displaced from his own role and having Billy take his guitar and place onstage. The duet thus carried an unresolved band conflict alongside its apparent ease.

Billy played “Honeycomb” acoustically at a slower tempo than usual. With only one microphone, he stood beside Daisy. The changed pace gave the song a gentler, more intimate character, and Billy found that Daisy could respond to the direction he took: she could bring warmth when he played slowly and energy when he moved faster. Their musical fit was not simply a matter of singing the same material; it was their ability to adjust to one another in real time. Karen Karen observed that they appeared absorbed in each other even though the audience around them numbered in the thousands.

When the song ended, Billy took Daisy’s hand, and the crowd cheered. He then announced The Six, and the rest of the band came out and began “Hold Your Breath.” Daisy whispered to Billy to ask whether she should leave. He shook his head no. She stayed, harmonizing where she could and playing tambourine for the rest of the show. Billy later recalled that the whole night had been improvised; he had expected Daisy to leave, then accepted that she was staying. The emergency had brought her onto the stage without her own band, while Billy’s invitation carried her into The Six’s set.

Aftermath and significance

The event revealed how quickly performance roles could shift within The Six. Eddie’s guitar passed to Billy, Daisy moved from a stranded solo set into the group’s performance, and the audience saw the band adapt in public. For Eddie, Billy’s actions reinforced a longer-running resentment: he felt that Billy directed how he played, influenced when the band toured, and now took his instrument and place onstage. The successful show did not resolve that conflict; it allowed the performance to continue while the grievance remained.

The backstage atmosphere afterward contrasted with the intensity onstage. Jonah Berg remembered a band that had been energetic and even destructive during the show but seemed calm and ordinary when he met them afterward. Karen Karen described that calm as partly an act: Daisy and Billy behaved as if they routinely spent time together after shows, while Eddie pretended not to hate Billy. They were also trying to give Jonah a good time despite their other concerns. The Glasgow set thus established neither a simple picture of harmony nor a single explanation of the band’s behavior. Its music could sound spontaneous and closely shared even as its members managed rivalries and performed normality for a journalist.

Later accounts of The Six’s concerts describe Billy and Daisy as compelling together but difficult to read; they rarely shared a microphone, and moments of direct eye contact—especially during “Regret Me”—left even Rod Reyes unsure what had passed between them. In that context, the Glasgow duet stands out for the conspicuousness of its shared microphone, its acoustic arrangement, and the way Billy entered Daisy’s set and then brought her into The Six’s. Its force comes from the circumstances as much as the song: an absent band creates an opening, Daisy fills it with her own writing, and Billy answers by joining her. The performance becomes both an artistic affirmation for Daisy and an early public expression of the musical intimacy that would remain difficult for the band, and its audiences, to interpret.