Phoebe Bridgers live in London: A transcendent set from a subtle superstar

In the days since Phoebe Bridgers’ hauntingly soul-bearing third album, Lost Weekend, was released, the record has been praised for its entrancing lyricism and delicate curation, giving an unflinching peep-hole view into the last few years of the singer’s life. As the album unravels, beginning with scrambled sci-fi vocoder-style vocals, Bridgers quietly lulls you into her soft-toned, ornately orchestrated world. So, it feels fitting on a evening in North London, sat in a late 19th century gothic-revival church, with 900 die-hard fans to first hear the album, in its stripped back, vulnerable form. 

Before Bridgers first emerges, she sneakily pops her heads around a parting curtain, her platinum-coloured the only give away, as she scopes out the packed beautiful venue. It’s a few moments later when her fellow musicians Nick White and close collaborator Christian Lee Hutson emerge and take their seats. As Bridgers comes on stage, it feels enthralling but amusing that a set-up which feels like an 80’s cosy basement — featuring a cosy couch, draped in a three colour zig-zag striped blanket, multiple lava lamps, a retro Sony TV flitting between videos of He-Man’s Skeleton and fuzzy, flickering pinwheel animations, and woozy neon digital frames with space-themed art — could feel as cohesive and communal as it does. 

Between the birthday jokes (Bridgers’ turned 32 on the day of performing the show), band-mate anecdotes and occasional slightly nervous characteristic remarks — “God’s watching – fuckin’ freak” — there’s an unquestionable quietness at play. Maybe it’s the phones being locked away, or the eyes scouring for details as they absorb such a special atmosphere. But, by the time Bridgers kicks things off with major hit ’Motion Sickness’, nothing can be heard aside from her voice filled up the domed venue. The stirring quietness lulls you into watching every beat, instrument and precise movement made by Bridgers and her bandmates. Her still, captivating performances of ‘Lost Boys’ and ‘Kill Me’ which features a perfectly in-sync chilling harmonica, lulls you right in. 

Against soft pastel coloured lighting, the concentrated emotion of Bridgers’ setlist seeps our her mic, as she sings the somewhat spiky lines of ‘Still Standing’, a song in tribute to her relationship with her late father. Follow up album title song ‘Lost Weekend’ quietly booms through the venue as almost-whispering sung lyrics hit hard: “I can’t imagine you dead / But you are every day”. The stage, kitted out with a Mellotron, two guitars, harmonica and additional sound effects. She prefaces songs about her dad, asking the crowd if anyone has dealt with conservative parents, as if playfully taking a poll. The songs, then, in ode to her dad she sensitively explains how her experience led her to discover her own “critical thinking” and sense of “humanity”. Adding” If you’re like my dad, thank you for changing the world for the better”. 

There’s a searing quietness around ‘The Governor’s Waltz’ too. A song occasionally speculated about her relationship (and engagement to Paul Mescal). Bridgers admits the track, for its three years in making, was initially called “Phoebe’s Waltz”. The silence, however, doesn’t entirely last. An impromptu crowd-led singing of Happy Birthday to the singer takes her entirely by surprise. Bashfully moved, she thanks the crowd and invites them to sing along with the close-out songs: ‘Scott Street’ and famous Punisher closing song ‘I Know The End’. With an open invitation to scream along at the end. Bridgers’ mischievously adds: Maybe a timeline will shift. Maybe Trump will slip up on a banana”, to which the crowd cheers. 

As rolling screams reach the peak of the domed church ceiling, there’s something special at play. Inside this tight-packed room, Bridgers’ takes you away from the outside and places you deep into the complex, grief-laden lyrics of her new album. It feels transportive and otherworldly. If not, at times a little eerie. Details are not spared — thoughtfulness is everywhere, even if Bridgers takes time to crack a joke about having a phone to check the setlist. But, as we watch close-up, as UV light floods the room, lighting up Bridgers silver hair, everything about the singer’s discography feels ethereal. As she reminds us of how much of herself went into Lost Weekend, she candidly shares: “I really did scrape from the bottom of my guts.” Even as the set wraps up and the booming lyrics of MUNA fill out Union Chapel, there’s something emotionally altering about Bridgers’ special 45-minute set.