PHOTOGRAPHY Khali Ackford, courtesy of Satellite 414
There’s a particular kind of sound that only happens in Brixton Academy when the lights drop; the historic venue is at once filled with hushed gasps and eager anticipation, like a collective inhale, abruptly interrupted by roars of excitement. That’s what greeted PinkPantheress as she took to the stage last night, flanked by dancers, live drums, and a backdrop of oversized tartan that nodded to British punk history – and her recent bag collaboration – without ever feeling like a costume.
The show unfolded in layers, moving from soft, intimate vocals over jungle beats to fully reworked versions of her newer tracks from her latest mixtape. The setlist was tight but not precious, with a clear throughline from her bedroom-pop beginnings to a more expansive, club-ready sound. While the Bath-native is perhaps best known for her low-fi sound and wry humour, there was something impressively commanding about the way she held the stage.
PinkPantheress is often described as an internet-era pop star. But live, there’s a distinctly offline warmth to her. Between songs, she bantered with the crowd like a mate at a house party. At one point, she spotted someone in the crowd who had dressed as a Renaissance painting and gave them a shoutout. Later, she joked about a fan trying to hand her their handbag (she didn’t take it).
The staging was minimal but sharp: a DJ booth, flashes of pink lighting, the occasional strobe (or seven). It let the music lead. Her drum and bass undercurrents were still there, but with more clarity. You could feel the lineage – M.I.A., SOPHIE, Charli XCX – not as direct reference points, but as part of a shared blueprint: women who’ve warped pop on their own terms.
She even performed her recently released track ‘Stars’, sampling the 2007 indie-pop hit ‘Starz In Their Eyes’ by Camden legend Just Jack. In a time when fashion, art, and culture often mistake recycling for referencing, PinkPanthress strikes a rare balance of being nostalgic yet genuine. She understands how to weave our strange collective memories into her work, but she never falls into the trap of playing nostalgia for cheap points.
The tartan backdrop, Y2K attire, and dancers moving like they’d trained at a rave and a ballet school simultaneously all came together to create something that felt distinctly British, but deliberately scrubbed of its more toxic associations. There was no nationalism here; no nostalgia for Empire. Rather, a nod to an aesthetic that’s too often co-opted and misrepresented. This was the version that belongs to British youth today; the DIY, diverse, local scene that raised her.
The night ended exactly how it should’ve – full lights, full vocals, full crowd participation. Pink stood centre stage, soaking it in, smiling like someone who knows it’s landing. A solid, self-assured close to an impressive show.
The final run – a bouncy encore followed by an ‘Illegal’ rave remix that turned the Academy into something closer to a warehouse – felt less like a set list, more like a victory lap. A reminder that her music isn’t just streaming fodder but a living, breathing thing built for dance floors and collective release.
PinkPantheress might exist slightly left of the pop mainstream, but last night in Brixton, she was at the centre of something special.
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