WORDS Sakithya Sothinathan
PHOTOGRAPHY Lauren A-Brown
On Saturday, 11th April, Leigh-Anne performed her solo debut album, My Ego Told Me To, at the O2 Kentish Town Forum. The show was high-energy, fierce and sensitive, as Leigh-Anne took us on a journey of destruction and construction that begins and ends with her electro-pop and reggae roots, accompanied with electric guitar and drums.
Although it’s unusual to see Leigh-Anne on stage without a tribe of dancers, the intimate duo of her and the accompanying dancer proved incredibly emotional. It felt like we were watching a phantasmal extension of her ego, as well as a mirror of the younger self that navigated all the turbulence that produced the resistance record in the first place. The broken glass frames, taped with the album’s title on stage, reinforced the sense of fracture and of a changed perspective which her debut album explores.
She kicked the night off with a killer entrance, strutting down from the balcony in glossy red heels, legs arched like arrows and wearing her confidence as armour.
“My solo journey has been a rollercoaster, but ultimately it’s allowed me to find myself again,” she says after “Dead and Gone”, which was interlaced with confessional meditations on persevering after ruin. Next came “Revival” , a self-manifesto in lyric, and despite the venue being relatively small for an artist of her calibre, her delivery transformed the space into an ephemeral stadium, with the crowd chanting her name as if before a fighting match.
While the set mostly comprised fresh material, she took a trip down memory lane with popular songs from her EP, No Hard Feelings, such as “OMG” and “Stealin’ Love”, but a standout moment was “Sunrise”, where the crowd gesticulated like choral conductors to the ascending vocal runs.
“Me Minus You” was especially tender, as flashlights twinkled and the crowd swayed – a mother and daughter hugging so tightly while singing to each other made me appreciate how so many of these songs were soundtracking not one particular moment or fleeting feeling, but a shared emotional history between Leigh-Anne and her audience – the glue that holds it all together.
Things then took a more energetic turn in Dancehall-inflected “Tight Up Skirt”, which introduced a moment of deliberate camp as Leigh-Anne invited four fans on stage “to give it” with spontaneous dancing that received hearty “slays” from the crowd. She took it up a notch by stripping the fringing from her red skirt down to cheeky shorts, which only fuelled the frenzy. Unintentionally (although it shouldn’t have been funny), I found it hilarious that security was actively stopping fans on the balcony from dancing to her music due to supposed “safety hazards”, yet, in the spirit of the album, they continued to rise again and again, despite the odds.
As the vulnerability of the former half descended into an emancipatory sexiness that carried on, there came another outfit change: from the varnish-red set to a Pink Pantheress-style tartan co-ord as she delivered “Free”. It’s the first time she really appears still on stage as the staple ruby-woo red lights smoothed into a soulful blue, and glittering strobes mottled the dark like fireflies. Yet, the serenity dissipated quickly as “Goodbye Goodmorning” cemented her versatility, not just as a singer and dancer, but as a commanding live performer. She reveals a more libidinous energy, dancing in heels and revelling in the lunging guitarist who delivers an electrifying rock-ish solo that has the audience screaming in both delight and shock.
But perhaps the most plaintive moment of the night arrived during “Heaven”, where her husband and children appeared as shadows behind the broken frames, and her daughter sweetly sang “all I need is right here” in sync with Leigh-Anne. She rushes off to kiss her and ushers them swiftly offstage, momentarily breaking her stage character yet grounding the show in a way that felt unbelievably sincere and connected to the fierceness she embodies. It’s rare to see an artist balance their multiple selves with such grace. And in full Leigh-Anne fashion, she comes back more determined to end on the anthemic high-energy gun-fingers bop, “My Love ft. Ayra Starr”.
Ultimately, the show proved that Leigh-Anne doesn’t rely on scale to connect with her audience. The aesthetics were stylishly simple yet visceral, and she delivered a stunningly consistent vocal performance. However, what became impossible to ignore was the political underbelly of the night. I spoke with a few fans to gauge their thoughts after the show ended. “The energy was insane. Leigh-Anne deserves her flowers, and this album is slept on. She deserves a bigger stage, and the UK needs to support their artists better”. Another fan remarked, “I loved the concept, but where are her nominations? She’s a legend in this industry”.
It seemed clear that the night was a hit and they were proud, but there was also a strong sense of protection and a feeling that the recognition she commands in performance still outpaces her broader positioning in the industry. Leigh-Anne’s turning point in her career, with her solo debut, is a clear example of a renaissance still in motion, built on sincerity, independence and an unshakeable resilience that is wholeheartedly inspiring.
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