The recipe for star power: What is it about CMAT?
In the hall of Alexandra Palace, there’s a palpable energy that’s hard to describe.
There are myriad poetic ways to talk about angst or heavy emotions. But all words to capture the flipside of lightness feel weak and lame in amongst the dense upswell of intense feeling in the historic venue, so let’s just say it straight: in the hall of Alexandra Palace, there’s a palpable feeling of joy because CMAT is about to hit the stage.
It’s rare to see a show where you’re hearing laughter just as much as applause, but as always, a CMAT gig takes the shape of a variety show more so than a concert. There are gags, dance breaks, and crowd interactions. Even during the opening track, ‘Janis Joplining’, a lyrically moody ballad about obsession and artistry, CMAT appears for the first time in the crowd.
Throughout the EURO-COUNTRY tour, this moment has taken on varying shades of ridiculousness, from the singer appearing on venue balconies like Evita to being carried through the audience like the people’s princess that she is. All while singing Shakespearean-level poetry like “If we keep these thoughts in our head, babe / They’ll never hurt us, no / So baby please become my head and my body, oh please, just for the night”. Clearly, CMAT knows perfectly well the role humour plays in her art and devilishly mixes it with profundity.
Typically, I’m not a person who likes to revisit things; I’m not a big fan of rewatching movies, and mostly, I’d rather keep it trucking forward, ticking new acts off the list. I look at those types of fans who follow an artist on tour, seeing the same show over and over, and feel nothing but confusion, but then at Ally Pally, it suddenly hits me that this is my ninth time seeing CMAT since 2023, and I’m still fizzing with excitement. It is clear that I’m not alone.
I wonder partly if this phenomenon comes down to those gags, as there’s no limit on the amount of silliness a person can portray. Just because I’ve seen the little dance-offs before doesn’t mean they don’t still lighten my heart in that nice, dopamine-releasing way, and then, every time there’s new stuff. For example, at this show, Harry Hill randomly appears, dressed as a giant dartboard.
Or in another moment, support act Katy J Pearson comes back onto the stage, joining CMAT in a silly yet brilliant rendition of Girls Aloud’s ‘Biology’, where the mere act of turning the 2000s pop song into an earnest folk tune has the crowd divided between giggles and sing-alongs.
But those gags would quickly grow tiresome if they weren’t matched by greatness. During her 2023 and 2024 gigs, CMAT dramatically pretended to be dead on her set-prop stairs. Beyond the laugh that this joke received, it also proved absolutely baffling that she was hitting the insane high notes and singing with the kind of power and breath control that artists train a lifetime for, while upside down and lying on her stomach.
The laughter is backed up repeatedly in moments where the crowd doesn’t even want to sing along as her voice soars above it all, staggering and gorgeous. One of the biggest examples comes during ‘Stay For Something’, bringing up another argument in the question of ‘what is it about CMAT?’ For the most part, an artist releases a song, it becomes a hit, it becomes their encore track, and that’s it. But CMAT is constantly reshaping her grand finale.
Given the way that she gets entire crowds, even entire festival fields, doing the two-step during ‘I Wanna Be a Cowboy, Baby!’, it would make sense for that breakthrough hit to forever be the finale. But now, it’s ‘Stay For Something’, though realistically, it could be ‘Have Fun!’ or ‘Euro-Country’, or her newest big hit, ‘Take a Sexy Picture of Me’. It doesn’t just speak to her prolific hit-making nature, album by album, but it speaks to an artist who is going to do whatever she wants, and make her setlist whatever she wants it to be, starting with a slow song if she fancies, and switching out her finale to whatever she thinks suits the mood.
Which brings us to a third hypothesis: Is the magic of CMAT all in that attitude? Flashing her arse crack on live TV at the Brits is one example, but overwhelmingly, her enduring devotion to herself comes in through her voice when she’s not singing. “Fuck reform,” she says with a middle finger up.
Vitally, this isn’t an artist who just delivers slogans but dedicates stage time to encouraging people to still talk about Palestine during an ever-increasing number of other global crises and controversies. At this years’ Brits, she used any mic time she got to talk passionately about the need for art to be political, saying so articulately, “You don’t get to make art in a fascist state”.
That’s the type of popstar we need, and while CMAT is more than happy to have a giggle and pack her tunes with winks and nudges, there’s also a solid sense of responsibility that she doesn’t just acknowledge from her platform, but harnesses beautifully.
So what is it? It seems that anyone who ever sees CMAT live is indoctrinated into the cult, or anyone who hears a tune soon enough becomes a fan, proven by her steady rise to the top. It seems locked in that she’ll only keep rising too, as in summer, her power is trusted enough to lead an entire festival, curating Lido and taking over Victoria Park. After selling out Ally Pally in mere moments, it also feels pretty certain that the next time she tours in London, it’ll be the O2 that we’ll all be heading down to.
Simply, the magic is in everything: great tunes, great times, a dedication to taking a stand, a great voice, great musical references and an unrivalled live band. Jokes, dances and songs to blow you away, no matter how many times you hear them, CMAT has it all and has star power in that true, inarguable way.
