In her first of two sold-out nights the singer and self-love superstar’s voice is marvellous – but let down by the absence of a live band
★★★★
“How many of you are here in the name of self-care?” Lizzo asked a sold-out Brixton Academy to a near-hysterical screaming crowd. “Me too, bitch”, she nodded conspiratorially, “me too!”
It’s hard to think of another musician this year who has exploded into superstardom as assertively as Lizzo. Real name Melissa Jefferson, the 31-year-old Detroit-born singer, rapper, songwriter and flautist had already released two studio albums, Lizzobangers (2013) and Big Grrrl Small World (2015) that were refreshing, and promising enough to consistently mark herself as “one to watch”, but it was with this year’s infectious Cuz I Love You that the world finally did.
Its lead single Juice catapulted her to the A-list in January and her relentless mantras of self-confidence, self-love and body positivity (she referred to herself as a “thick-ass bitch” multiple times tonight) have dominated radio and social media ever since.
The stage in Brixton was set like a cathedral, complete with stained-glass windows projected on a screen and a DJ deck altar: smoke swirled around the floor as the clashing opening piano of “Heaven Help Me” erupted the room in rejoice and she – already rapping before she was seen – emerged in a gold foil cape. As her sermon began, she launched her face skywards and her lush voice soared with an easy, commanding power that would not falter all night. Who she was looking for up there I am not sure – this house of worship was for Lizzo alone and she is her own deity. And, too, as her lyrics declare, her own inspiration, soulmate, and queen.
Between her melodic preaching to the packed party, she had the intimate air of an aunt sharing stories on a front porch as she drew everyone in for “tea”. She perched – now in gold lingerie – on a stool to tell tales about a former lover, all finger wagging and eyebrow raised as she mulled over her own past heartbreak and shared her wisdom: “Fuckboys don’t love themselves so how the hell are they gonna love somebody else?”
‘A live band would have elevated this show, which felt like strong, gymnastic vocals over her own backing tracks’
It worked – for the song that story inspired, “Jerome”, so many phones lit up as the crowd swayed it was as if dawn had broken in the room. Later, she announced the night was “group therapy” and asked the audience (mostly women) to reflect on the decade – before hugging her five dancers in a line and together singing “Good as Hell”, like a group of girlfriends at the end of a night out.
She, with those dancers and DJ Sophia Eris at the decks, is a natural, fluid dancer: twerking against the altar, dusting off her shoulders and bouncing with every limb and muscle. Her rapping is as energetic: not pausing for breath as aphorisms fly out.
When she brought out her flute to play on Juice (she was a classically trained musician and studied at the University of Houston) the night’s great disappointment was even clearer – a live band would have elevated the show, which felt a little like strong, gymnastic vocals over her own backing tracks in a space where poor sound regularly lets those backing tracks down. Still, the heft of those songs, if perhaps samey, are marvellous and were delivered with total swagger.
The highlight of the night came with the marvellous “Truth Hurts” – which opens with the line, “Why are men great til they gotta be great?” – wearing her final outfit of the night, gold sparkly flares with lyrics “100%” “THAT” “BITCH” sequinned across bottom and legs respectively and a white veil, and married herself at the altar, throwing red bouquets to her disciples.
