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The tour spans seven dates across the UK, with Bristol’s Trinity Community Arts selling out weeks in advance, a homecoming of sorts for an artist whose lyrics have become emotional shorthand for Bristol’s alternative scene, learning to name their chaos. The album unapologetically blends gothic pop, alternative rock, and theatrical noir, showcasing Luvcat’s transformation from her folk roots as Sophie Morgan into a bold, passionately charged persona.
Attic Girl opened the night with her sharp and spectral voice, instantly cutting through the room of fellow darkly inclined spectators with a poetic performance of haunted lyricism. Murmuring between tracks, “She only had herself to blame…” it’s as if she knew Music is to Blame was in the crowd. Her set laid out the emotional groundwork for what was to come, a prelude to Luvcat’s charismatic theatre of feeling.
Appearing without a fanfare but with a flicker, Luvcat emerged amongst buzzing vintage lamps amidst smoke, casting sepia shadows across a painted moon crest and a scatter of candles that bled wax onto red velvet and a black and white vinyl floor. Conjuring the glamour of Twin Peaks’ Red Room, the ‘Lipstick & Pearls’ set design is pure gothic maximalism, part seance, part cabaret. It felt like stepping into a dream stitched from Lynchian fabric.
Her band, dressed head to toe in black suits and ties, looked like undertakers disguised as musicians. With a quiet glance at the mic, Luvcat stood solemn, her signature voluminous hair casting a villainous shadow. The Cruella comparisons aren’t just aesthetic, they’re symbolic. She is not asking for redemption; she’s rewriting the narrative for the femme fatale, turning lipstick smears into war paint in her opening track, ‘Lipstick’. Sleek, snarling basslines oscillated behind the story of death by seduction, “I want to be your favourite / I'll kill all the rest”. Sensual, confrontational, and steeped in obsession, it is the perfect curtain-raiser to blur the lines between concert and ritual.
Flamenco flair and fuzzed-out guitars followed, with a story all the way from the Kazimier Garden in Luvcat’s hometown of Liverpool, “Your stare is steely and your tongue is sharpened / Can carve me like a steak knife”. Half-sung, half-snared, the crowd echoed every syllable of ‘Matador’ in reverence. Dancing between vulnerability and vengeance, the crowd followed every note with unwavering devotion - word for word, like muscle memory in winged eyeliner and black lace.
Just when the crowd thought the night had peaked, she returned to the stage with Attic Girl, the evening’s opening act, who also happens to be Luvcat’s longtime friend from their days working together at the circus. That shared history wasn’t just anecdotal; it pulsed through their performance of ‘Vicious Delicious’, a standout fan favourite from Luvcat’s new album. The stage transformed into a glittering sideshow; their synchronised dance routines and acrobatic flair were part cabaret, part villainous. A performance of friendship, a union of girlhood.
It’s no wonder that Luvcat’s rise coincides with a broader cultural moment, one where feminist rage and romantic ruin are finding new homes in audiences, new and old. Artists like Blondshell, Paris Paloma, and Ha Vay have all helped in carving out space for the reemergence of ‘whimisgothic’, a genre steeped in theatrical melanchonoy, haunted femininity, and poetic defiance. It’s a sound that mirrors the rise of tarot readings on TikTok, moon-phase Spotify playlists, and a collective hunger for meaning amongst the social chaos of our time. Music has always reflected the culture it’s born into, and right now, that culture is one of reclamation. Women are rewriting the rules, renaming their pain, and turning it into art (or in this case, lullabies for the lethal).