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1 day ago
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Pop stars often stumble along the fine line between confidence and arrogance (see Taylor Swift’s latest opus), but north London’s rap visionary Little Simz appears to be in perfect balance. Should anyone decide to challenge the songwriter’s self belief – or as she names it in the hit single Selfish, “heritage ego” – this week’s back-to-back arena gigs prove her hard-earned place at the forefront of Black British music is warranted.
Before she walks on to the stage, 90s baby pictures of an even littler Simz flash on the drop down screens, before we flick through the years to an awkward yet adorable teenager with her first guitar. It all leads to the present, where tonight she is an honorary Manc in a khaki overcoat, swinging her arms behind her lower back with plentiful Gallagher swagger: “Missed you!” She radiates joy and gratitude, but the live show does not shy away from her life’s trials, and she confronts the fallout of a messy public financial dispute with menacing metaphors and a slick vengeance that slips readily from her tongue.
Enough is a firm highlight, with a skanking, ESG-inflected Factory Records groove animated by bass maestro Marla Kether, whose fluid post-punk basslines and signature Bantu knots rightfully pull focus away from Simz for a good few minutes. Acid-green strobe lights spew across the arena for Venom, a viral fan-favourite, until grumbling feedback cues the emergence of a DJ booth from underneath the floor.
Simz switches gears and takes to the decks to perform songs from her EP Drop 7, headphones hanging from one ear and friends huddling around to hype her up, instantly transforming the space into a late-night club. Mood Swings is drenched with Drexciya and Detroit techno vibes, as onlookers grind and contort with strangers-turned-dancers against sultry 808s and subaquatic synths. It’s thrilling: few artists can take a full arena from a friendly singalong to a sweat-fuelled Boiler Room set in the space of just a couple of songs.
The encore features this year’s Glastonbury standout Gorilla, scratching and rewinding in classic Yardie sound system style, until Simz truly feels the crowd are ready to feel the rhythm. When the horn sample swells, even those seated have no choice but to leap to their feet. “Name one time where I didn’t deliver?” Simz shouts and giggles in her final closing lyric. It’s an affirmation that no-one here could contest.
