The last time that Pale Waves played a full show in Liverpool was almost two years ago, in the exact same room they’re in now. Maybe that’ll set off some alarm bells about ‘lack of progresssion’ or the like, but it probably shouldn’t. After all, it’s not like Pale Waves are stagnating, given that they released their best album yet in Smitten just a week ago, as a return to their roots of light indie-pop with a considerable revamp. For a band who’ve stopped flip-flopping between styles for some kind of stasis literally just now, you really can’t downplay what Pale Waves have achieved on its face. A sold-out show in a decent-cap venue is nothing to scoff out, regardless of circumstances that (by some arbitrary measure) ‘should be better’.
At the very least, they aren’t being overshadowed by their support. In the case of swim school, they feel very much like an early-days Pale Waves—the avenues to break out of openerdom are there, but they could be significantly wider. That’s down to indie-rock affixed by the most suitable descriptors of ‘pleasant’ and ‘listenable’, and not much else. Their songs blur together without even forethought otherwise, be in melodic shoegaze or a slightly more preferable crank into weightier material towards the end, albeit still without much defining character. Even singer Alice Johnson, already marred by an uncharitable vocal mix, finds herself as merely another piece of this competent indie construct. The clearest spark of hope comes on kill you with its mid-paced, light-dappled ripple, though even that’s hardly an unassailable height.
For Pale Waves, however, there are no such issues. On the live stage, they’re a well-oiled machine now, with a bevy of winners across their catalogue that have always put this as the optimum environment for them. Clearly they’re looking to accentuate that with some mise en scène for the first time—chandeliers behind them with ivy-covered stands and a Greek-style sculpture for good measure—but in truth, it’s not something they need. The hallmark of a Pale Waves show is always an immaculate vibe, brought about by how light and lush their pop songs can be. As a means of kicking off a new era, an opening pair of Perfume and Not A Love Song drive that in perfectly. Elsewhere, it’s not like there’s any significant dip at all.
If there is a nitpick to be made, it’s that perhaps Pale Waves in their current form have lost a bit of cohesion among their component pieces. Compared to Unwanted’s run and how the injection of pop-punk gave them more energy to play with overall, that isn’t really the case now. That side of the repertoire has been largely cast aside, in favour of Heather Baron-Gracie’s returning goth-pop chic among this lighter airier feel. With her austere black blazer and the way she’s lit by bright whites and hard reds to emphasise gothic posture while propped at the mic, there’s a massive gulf to be found there. It’s an amalgam of disparate looks and vibes and ideas at this point, perhaps more brazenly than ever. Still, that coalesces into a very fun whole regardless. You can be apprehensive of aloofness all you want, but a cavalcade of undeniable hooks can steamroll over that, their own weightlessness be damned.
Because, for as many dips into aesthetics and styles that they’ve now amassed, Pale Waves remain a pop band at their core. These songs have almost a magic in their simplicity and effectiveness, basically across the board. When the crowd is given a choice between Red and Unwanted, the former almost seems like the correct option, with its sprawling shimmer and gloss all fed into a tighter-than-tight composition. The acoustic guitar is broken out for Change, but even a little added alt-rock spice can’t dampen the same effect. And sure enough, the new material is rich with the same thing. Kiss Me Again is the one in terms of an unfettered pop hit, while Gravity’s zip and sparkle and the immaculate power-ballad smoulder of Thinking About You aren’t far off.
But most of all—and indeed, it’s true of this set as a whole—you get the sense that Pale Waves are in their element here. Where a big pop act might see spaces of this size as a necessary conduit the arenas owed to them by birthright, there’s an aura around Pale Waves that this is where they belong, and where they can have the greatest impact. As Baron-Gracie drapes herself in the lesbian flag during She’s My Religion, it’s met with uproarious reaction in a room of proudly queer people sharing a human moment with an artist who isn’t a physical million miles away. For Pale Waves, populism isn’t about the sheer number of bodies in front of them; it’s about connecting with the ones there already. You can be disillusioned by assertions like that if you want, but that’s just how it all feels. This is exactly where Pale Waves are meant to be, and they’re revelling in every second of it.
Words by Luke Nuttall
