Self Esteem at Brixton Academy
After an incredible performance by Nadine Shah – ending with “I’ll never stop talking about Palestine” – Rebecca Taylor, aka Self Esteem, steps onto the Brixton stage, preceded by her ensemble of backing vocalists and dancers. The Yorkshire artist has come a long way since her Slow Club days, and tonight is a testimony to the creative heights she’s reached.
Her latest album, A Complicated Woman, has given her the platform she needed to be bold, subversive and brimming with joy. Taylor’s work seems to tell a familiar story of contradictions: empowerment and self-doubt, humour and heartbreak, chaos and control. On stage, those contrasts come alive. And they let the audience come alive too.
The show begins with I Do & I Don’t Care. Taylor and her ensemble stand solemnly in pilgrim-like, monochrome clothing, robes that evoke both choral tradition and The Handmaid’s Tale. “If I’m so empowered, then why am I such a coward?” they sing, standing next to each other. Then the lights turn crimson for Mother. The ensemble move with precision, while Taylor commands the room. The lyrics are explicit, witty and furious; every word lands.
From the start, it’s clear this is no ordinary pop concert. It’s performance art: symbolic, intentional and wildly entertaining. During Lies, the group of artists gather around a “bonfire” of lights, joined again by Shah, now also dressed in austere black. Then comes 69, one of the most playfully provocative tracks on the album. The names of different sex positions are projected on screen, beats pulsing beneath. Taylor’s comedic timing is perfect. The song, about losing focus mid-act, is both sultry and hilarious.
The second act brings a shift. The performers re-emerge in sportswear, breaking free from the earlier severity. The choreography also changes – think lunges, yoga poses, jogging movements – until they collapse into hugs, all smiles, like teammates after a football match. The camaraderie between these women is the key, and what makes this a standout performance. Every single one of them is mesmerising to watch.
The pace then drops for I Do This All the Time. The stage is still. Taylor sings into a banana-phone, as if talking to an ex, eventually peeling and eating it. Oddly moving in its absurdity. The Curse is one of the highlights (although every song offers something different, which makes it hard to just pick a few). Stripped back, with Taylor on guitar, it’s confessional and raw. “I wouldn’t do it if it didn’t fucking work / But it really works / And that’s the curse,” she sings. Her ensemble surrounds her, huddling, holding each other.
In Plain Sight is another highlight. The lights dim while the performers form a semicircle. Their voices merge in a shared cry of exhaustion and release. This final stretch feels almost cinematic. Now reaching the end, The Deep Blue Okay mirrors the beginning: the dancers lining up next to each other, now free from their earlier restrictive clothing, moving fluidly, unbound. The mood is lighter, almost musical-theatre in tone. It feels liberatory.
Benedetta Mancusi
Photos: Virginie Viche
For further information and future events, visit Self Esteem’s website here.
Watch the video for Self Esteem The Curse here:
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