An expectant queue snakes out of the university building on Portland Way in Leeds, as fans excitedly anticipate the arrival of King Princess – aka Mikaela Straus – playing the early dates of their Girl Violence tour in the city. Inside, the venue is a buzz of positivity as Susannah Joffe kicks things off with a 30-minute set of personal, reflective story telling. The Texan already has a good fan base at the barrier, some of whom know and sing every word. It’s the perfect foil for the headliner, a performance that sets the scene and creates the atmosphere of openness and acceptance that will characterise the evening.

The lights go down and the band walk quietly on stage, opening up the music, waiting for King Princess to follow on behind. Bouncing on from stage left, she is welcomed with screams, a frenetic energy from the front row sparking King Princess into leaps and high kicks before breaking into Cherry, heavy with guitar and rasping opening vocals.

“We are going to play some songs from Girl Violence” she says, when finally addressing the audience. “Are we familiar?!” Safe to say, no-one came unprepared, having probably revised harder than some of the students who have walked these halls in the past. Lyrics are sung back, audience participation in the right moments, all generating a beautiful atmosphere in the room.

King Princess’ music and queerness have always been bound together, and frequently she checks in on the “lesbians of Leeds” which elicits more screams of affirmation and (more than once) chants of “Yorkshire! Yorkshire!” Despite their occasional confusion at the geographical loyalty – “do you love Leeds more, or Yorkshire more?” she asks at one point – King Princess manages to create an atmosphere that is positive, joyful and inclusive,

There are standout moments as drummer Antoine Fadavi is encouraged by the crowd to “show us something special” and hits the drum pad that launches the word “pussy!” into the room, for legendary queer anthem Pussy is God. There is a jazzy sensibility to Hit The Back, Slow Down Shut Up sees the singer on the barrier singing along face to face with the fans. Cry, Cry, Cry stands out as one of the strongest songs, musically and emotionally affecting.

There’s a bit of added theatre as RIP KP ends with our hero handed a poisoned chalice (from a crew member!) and collapsing on stage. She is carried off while the band play them out. It all serves to encourage the crowd to scream louder for their encore. “You’ll need to bring them back from the dead!” they implore, before King Princess re-emerges and delivers the beautiful track that jump-started their career. 1950 resonates with so many in the room, as an anthem to queer love and a longing for acceptance of their genuine selves. It is, unsurprisingly, one of the highlights of the night.

This was a great show, emotionally charged, but filled with positivity and acceptance. Shared purpose and passion, coupled with an artist telling poignant stories with their heart on their sleeve, nights like this remind me why live music is so powerful.

Backseat Mafia

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