On October 1st, I trekked out to Merriweather Post Pavilion to attend the sold-out All Things Go music festival. The forecast promised intermittent rain and temperatures in the 50s as the remnants of Hurricane Ian traveled up the coast; attendees turned out clad in raincoats and ponchos, filling up the pavilion seating and staking out spots on the crowded lawn. I arrived early enough in the day to catch some stunning performances by the likes of Lucy Dacus, King Princess, Mitski, and Bleachers. Candidly, though, I was most intent on seeing Lorde, who headlined the show in the midst of wrapping up the US leg of her Solar Power tour.
She takes the stage at exactly 9:30 to predictably ecstatic screams of applause. Like so much of her music, there’s a dreamlike quality to her performance. She emerges as if from the ether, with bleached hair and a psychedelic black jumpsuit, standing on a rotating staircase leading to nowhere. A line of backup singers and guitarists are stationed behind her, in loose yellow suits conjuring up vintage flower-child aesthetics. The well-curated setlist includes a sampling of songs from her latest album as well as familiar throwbacks.
With a combination of cuttingly earnest lyric delivery, charming monologues, and high-energy dancing, she keeps the crowd engaged throughout the entire 90-minute set. In her opening number, The Path, she sings, “If you’re looking for a savior, that’s not me” over a sunny melody with layered vocals. It’s a poignant tone-setter for an artist frequently (and apparently to her distaste) dubbed the voice of a generation. But she manages to bite back at the culture of celebrity worship without distancing herself from her audience. She still cheekily introduces herself with her off-stage name (Ella), and even climbs into the pit to walk through a sea of fans at one point. As the opening notes of Liability play, she coyly asks, “Will you help me sing this one?” The crowd answers with vigor, gleefully shouting along to an anthem of loneliness and abandonment. By the time she launches into her closing number, Solar Power, we’re enraptured. A stream of yellow crepe-paper confetti rains down from somewhere overhead, a respite from the gloomy weather. And with extra time remaining, she returns for an encore performance of Teams, a fan favorite from her debut album.
There was something bordering on spiritual about standing in that audience, looking up at this artist from the opposite side of the earth whose music had first reached me almost a decade ago, becoming the soundtrack to my teen angst, the mayhem of my early 20s, and generally speaking, my transition to adulthood in a world that perpetually seems on the edge of catastrophe. In my experience, a really good performance makes you feel like you’re not just a fan, not just a music lover, but a witness to something monumental. I walked away from the show revitalized -- ready to face whatever catastrophe might come next, and maybe even make something beautiful out of it along the way.
Written by: Melanie Hrbek