In the kaleidoscopic realm of Arabella Latham, alias Baby Queen, this past week unfurled as a symphony of triumphs, reaching its crescendo in a seismic performance at Bristol Trinity Centre amidst the luminous tapestry of a UK tour. With each sold-out venue, including the illustrious Trinity Centre, the fervor surrounding her tour mirrors the meteoric rise of her latest creation, “Quarter Life Crisis.” A sonic revelation that swiftly ascended to the zenith of the UK album chart, currently nestled at the illustrious No. 7 spot, and displaying no signs of halting its celestial ascent.
This meteoric rise is not mere coincidence but rather the rightful tribute to a performer who, in the face of the often-disheartening reality of dreams, boldly uprooted her life to chase the elusive muse of artistic expression. The heart of “Quarter Life Crisis” lies exposed, a raw narrative intertwining themes of imposter syndrome, the shadows of depression, a quest for self-worth, and the omnipresent specter of rejection. Yet, what sets Baby Queen apart, elevating her into the echelons of artistry, is her uncanny ability to encase these somber reflections in a glittering, pop-coated resonance, a veritable antipop manifesto.
Within the sonic crucible she conjures, the contrast is stark and sublime—the dark threads of introspection woven seamlessly into an irresistibly catchy, radio-friendly fabric. It’s a dance of contradiction, a testament to the artist’s finesse in navigating the tumultuous waters of emotion and sound. Her lyrics, a lyrical odyssey of complexity, lay bare a self-analysis and reflection that echo the profound influence of Kae Tempest.
But it’s not just within the confines of the recording studio that Latham bares her soul. Onstage, she stands as an open book, a living, breathing testament to the vulnerability encapsulated in her musical offerings. The stage show, a magnum opus of 2023’s live performances, unfolds as a testament to her artistic integrity. The connection forged with the audience transcends the mere auditory, with the front rows revealing the palpable resonance of every note.
The tapestry of her setlist unfurls over nearly two hours, a sonic journey traversing the peaks of infectious bounce in “I Can’t Get My Shit Together” and “Dover Beach” to the poignant valleys carved by “Obvious” and “Die Alone.” Each note resonates with an emotional charge, encapsulating the highs and lows of Latham’s musical pilgrimage. A personal favorite emerges in the form of “Buzz Kill,” a testament to her ability to encapsulate the multifaceted nature of human experience.
As the final notes of the main set recede, the encore unfurls—a vibrant spectacle featuring “Want Me” and “We Can Be Everything.” Here, Latham emerges draped in a rainbow flag, a symbol that, for once, feels authentically tethered to her struggles, rather than a performative gesture. The genuine nature of this display invokes an eruption of cheers and applause, a sustained ovation that seems to defy the temporal constraints of a live performance.
In 2023, Baby Queen stands as a sovereign force in the musical landscape, leaving an indelible mark on the hearts and minds of those fortunate enough to witness her live. The house lights may have signalled the end of the performance, but the echoes of her artistry linger, resonating far beyond the confines of the stage.
@thebristolnomad / @bristolnomad_gigphotography
Role: Photographer / Reviewer / Interviewer
Chief, the one that bugs the team for team for their reviews and images. Creator and founder of The Bristol Gig Guide. Can usually be found swamped in admin or getting cramp kneeling at the front of a gig.
Available for: Gig Shoots, Gig Reviews, Photo Shoots, Album and Single cover shoots, Videography work, Interviews and Touring
First attended gig: Republica, circa 1996.
First gig shot: Hands Off Gretel, at The Louisiana!
Dream gig: Huge metalhead and my ultimate dream gig would be shooting my heroes Slipknot at a huge stadium gig, or as festival headliners. And to experience shooting a headline tour outside the UK
