There weren't many people, but there were cherry trees. And then there was Beabadoobee, playing like she didn't need any more. It didn't feel like a festival -- and perhaps that's precisely what made it nice.
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Disclaimer: Apropos Magazine received access or a review copy. As always, we share our own impressions — unfiltered.
Six stars
It was like stepping into a 2010 music video, wrapped in delicate light and shoegaze romance. The Orange Stage was dressed in cherry blossom trees, and in the middle of it all stood Beabadoobee — with guitar, shyness and a gaze constantly searching for his own world. Audiences were few but dedicated. They knew what they were getting into. There was no room for festival silliness here -- only for dreamy melodies and melodramatic sentiments.
Beabadoobee's universe is built on emotion that never raises its voice. She writes songs about love and loneliness with the kind of tones one usually associates with the sound of rain against the window pane and a camera in slow motion. And live it actually worked. Her vocals were clear, and she sang with a kind of introspective conviction that made people believe her — even though she most of all looked like someone who would rather be somewhere else.
The setlist accommodated the biggest fan favorites -- “Care,” “The Perfect Pair,” “Cologne” -- delivered with just enough variety that it didn't become soporific, but also never explosive. It was like being cradled rather than being lifted. Some might call it boring. I would rather call it consistent. Beabadoobee has never been an artist who jumps up and down the stage. She's standing there. She plays. And if you're in, you're in.
However, it was hard not to think that this would have worked better on a smaller stage. Apollo or Pavilion, maybe even Gloria. A darker room, a denser vibe, a more introverted sound. Orange Scene had a hard time embracing the fragility of her expression — and though the scenography did its part to frame her, some of the magic of the open space disappeared.
But what she lacked in volume, she had, in turn, in presence. Beabadoobee didn't say much between numbers, but when she did, it didn't sound like an obligatory thank-you speech. She smiled, she nodded, she said hello and thanked the audience as if they really mattered. It seemed real. And that's not to be underestimated in an age when festivals are often more about filming than feeling.
There was something fundamentally nice about standing there and being quiet together. It was not a concert that was written home about in capital letters — but perhaps that is why it lingered a little longer in the body afterwards. There were no gimmicks, no guests, no wild visuals. Only an artist who played his music for those who really wanted to hear it.
Conclusion without conclusion:
It wasn't big, it wasn't wild -- but it was nice. Beabadoobee delivered an honest concert in which presence, calmness and vulnerability were allowed to fill. She's not the festival's headliner, but she's not a circadian fly either. And she proved on the Orange Stage that it can be enough just to stand still and sing if you have something to say.
