LIVE REPORT: Emily Breeze at the BarrelHouse Ballroom, Totnes
“The beatniks believed we should excavate our dreams,” Emily Breeze purrs from inside her totally on-brand hangover. “For some strange state of ecstasy.”
Lively, literate and loads of laughs
Bristol’s finest are on cracking form as ever – lively, literate and loads of laughs, deploying embittered paens to the party-hard life, elevated by exquisite celestial insights. Plus – a joyous treat – her weapons-grade band have brought along a bunch of brand new songs to share, ahead of incoming LP Rats In Paradise.
Up-yours
Forthcoming single Fun is possibly the purest distillation of the Emily Breeze formula to date – a nihilistic up-yours to the normies, it’s whip-smart, hilarious and, courtesy of aforesaid band, thunders along with the diesel fury of the Foo Fighters.
Marindade
My favourite new one is Dating A Model – sassy, cynical and snidey, it swipes at a wretched ex and his sexy new squeeze over a sublime Sacha Distel sway. “She did your taxes over Tinder / and she’s read more books than you.” Few artists marinade in their own suffering quite as deliciously as she.
Millennial nostalgia
Alright, it’s a whole genre in itself now, but not many songs manage to play on that modishly marketable millennial nostalgia vibe as adroitly as 1997, effectively rhyming “HMV”, “ten Embassy” and “Rage Against the Machine”. Great value.
“Excuse any fuck ups,” Emily Breeze apologises at one point, mid-set. “It’s not that we don’t practice, I’m just very fucking forgetful.”
Respectful
During one particular actually-not-especially-long technical break she berates the audience for our respectful hush, sarcastically thanking her lucky stars “the head of Enormo-Dome Records isn’t in to sign us tonight.”
Poetic pathos
She lives and breathes funny. Snorts world-class one-liners for breakfast, all the while luxuriating in pain, alchemising poetic pathos into punk. Hanging out afterwards over a few frames of pool, one gets the impression it’s all real, too. The person, the look, the songs – all one mad swirling Gesamtkunstwerk, as the Germans say. A living, tottering work of art.
Glorious
Anyway, back on stage, having disposed of gigawatts of obnoxious bratty energy, Emily Breeze closes the set with a disarmingly holy palate cleanser – a cover of Graceland, by Paul Simon, rendered in wavy harmonium. A glorious gut-punch, palate-cleansing absolution from the life and soul of this marvellous party.
Emily Breeze Linktree
Discover more from ArtsCulture
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
