Alex Lahey live review: The many dichotomies of being Alex Lahey
Finding yourself in the hubbub of central London on a balmy Thursday evening is a particularly difficult place to be. Amid the swirling energy of city bankers and cultural creatives mingling over penny-weighted pints, the weekend beckoning with a whiff of vomit and the sun just hinting at a seasonal change that will fill the streets so fiercely that it will be almost impossible to move without being hit by a cherry-flavoured cloud of vape smoke, it is easy to get overwhelmed by a desire to escape. Thankfully, I needn’t go far to do so, as just around the corner, Alex Lahey was waiting within an acoustic oasis.
It’s probably worth mentioning that a chance to see Alex Lahey was never something I was likely to turn down. The singer-songwriter has been on constant rotation in my house for years, and her track ‘Wes Anderson’ holds a special spot in my life as a keystone of my wedding vows. However, this night offered something a little more special than even I was expecting. This wasn’t Lahey crammed into the sizeable venue she likely deserves but given breathing room with a basement acoustic set at The Slaughtered Lamb, an opportunity Lahey titles “a privilege”.
The ferocity of rock shows is an alluring prospect. Blood, sweat and tears of such rampant shows are always matched with laughter, pints and bouncing up and down like a lunatic. Those shows not only have their place in the music world but are why a lot of us fell in love with music in the first place. However, this show was something a little different. In a dusky red-lit room, stools were strewn and actually used, while a captivated audience, only ever slightly disturbed by the introduction of the raucous Thursday night office party above through intermittent door swings, sat breathlessly watching an artist deliver spades of charm and songwriting nous.
After a wonderful performance from the Laura Marling adjacent support act Paris Paloma, Lahey takes the stage with a guitar, a drum machine and a truly fantastic set of lungs. Despite her protestations at the top of the set, highlighting that it was her first tour in such circumstances and that she eloquently “hopes it isn’t shit”, Lahey delivers a near-perfect set. Bookended by her most loved songs, ‘Wes Anderson’ and ‘Every Day’s The Weekend’ with a joyful cover of ‘Hey There Delilah’ for good measure, the songwriter moves through her new album’s most pertinent songs. ‘Good Time’ is a purified refreshment, ‘They Wouldn’t Let Me In’ discusses the darker side of queerdom, ‘The Sky Is Melting’ reflects on societal collapse, while Lahey rightfully titles ‘Makes Me Sick’ a “hopeless love song”.
Judging by the audience’s reaction, The Answer Is Always Yes looks set to be the album that truly launches Lahey. Delivered here with gentle acoustic twang and Lahey’s aforementioned vocal potency – those singing lessons are paying off, it would seem – the album reeks of the kind of special case that will see it held tightly to the chest of countless fans. Dripping with sentiment without ever feeling saccharine, it’s clever without feeling intellectually impotent, funny without being comedic and charming without the air of contrived smiles.
It is within this duality that Lahey has resided for most of her career. The songwriting on show is undoubtedly commercial, yet it rarely lands in the middle of the road. Lahey is delightful in her engagement with the crowd, but you’d be hard-pressed to call it anything other than effervescent authenticity. As much as she rightly deserves a run of theatre and academy shows, her fans will want to see her frequenting pub basements for years to come. These all add up to the final dichotomy of the singer standing before us.
Alex Lahey is the girl next door that deserves to go global.
