Your set may have been delayed by a few minutes due to technical difficulties, and you may have proceeded to call us Manchester about four times before your DJ reminded you what city you were in, but we don’t mind. You settled into Stylus with your characteristic style of lazy self-indulgence, and got the crowd swaying to your drawling, viscous lyricism. Your whole repertoire was on show, and we loved it.
Your support act, Slowthai, may have been a tad overzealous. He may have stripped off to just his boxers and mounted the barriers before chanting “fuck Theresa May” in front of a room consisting mainly of white kids from the home counties, but you can’t fault his energy. To get the crowd moshing before the main act is always an impressive feat, no matter what strange and bizarre tactics you use to do so.
You may have worn a cream reverse flat cap and tiptoed round the stage like some sort of ballet dancing sleuth, but damn did you make it look good. It was the perfect visualisation of a chilled-out but energetic set which threw punches while never breaking a sweat. The stomping grounds of Fruity have rarely looked so stylish.
You didn’t return to the stage despite our huge cheers and pleads for an encore, and your transition between songs could have been a little more inventive, but we’re willing to forget all of that. The balance between backing track and live input was perfect, the lights were gorgeous; you had us hooked from the first minute to the very last. It was impossible not to fall for your sincere, easy-going charm.
Annie is a lucky girl.
Leeds (not Manchester) x
All images by Meg Firth