Her guitarist for the evening carried an understated confidence, moving seamlessly from confession to chorus. Vocally, Eyre remains a formidable presence - poised, effortless, never strained. Her control is all the more striking in an intimate setting such as this one. She opens with the title track of her new album, ‘everything, in time’. It functions as both a statement and a promise. By the time ‘space’ arrives, introduced with a grin as “a fun, silly song about how sometimes you just want to fuck the fuck off”, the room visibly relaxes. It’s light, playful, buoyed by backing vocals that lift the performance without tipping it into excess.
Between songs, Eyre’s patter is dry, self-aware, and disarmingly honest. She introduces ‘high on the internet’ with a note, “I have a real love-hate relationship with the internet”, she remarks, a line that lands with a knowing murmur from the crowd. That tension feeds into ‘domino season’, which she describes as “one of the only real love songs I’ve ever written,” capturing the feeling of everything falling into place - “in order, in a beautiful, erratic kind of way”. It’s one of the evening's most affecting moments, delicate but not precious. ‘Waiting All Night’ marks a shift in the energy, a nostalgic tune for most of the room. The crowd ignites, phones rising like constellations, the candles reflecting in screens like stars. ‘Tell me that you need me/Tell me that you want me’ - the crowd sings in perfect chorus. What follows is a seamless transition again, this time on piano. What would usually be a darker, more emotional territory, red flags and gaslighting, is made to feel uplifting; it's a testament to Eyre’s iconic writing abilities. ‘red flags & love hearts’ was a reminder of her full power unleashed, commanding the room with ease and reaffirming her status as a vocalist who can still stop the space cold.
‘kinstugi’ arrives with its central metaphor intact: “it’s the way you can repair things that makes them better - not necessarily the way things were broken”. The line hangs in the air, met with hushed attention. A shouted “I love you, Ella Eyre” from the crowd breaks the spell briefly, drawing an ‘aww’ from the crowd, a grin, and an “I love you too” from Eyre herself before she moves on. Honesty surfaces again as Eyre introduces a cover, extremely careful to credit the original artist: “so many people think this is my song”, “this is a cover of ‘We Don’t Have To Take Our Clothes Off’ by Jermaine Stewart”. In a day and age where credit can be lost, Eyre ensures that she hands it to the right people, subtly earning a greater respect from the room around her. A few more songs, fading between old and new, continue the show. ‘Even If’ hands out as the emotional linchpin, tears forming in the eyes of many. ‘rain in heaven’ stands out as an important track to Eyre herself, with a story on her co-writers' off-hand remark, “well, it still rains in heaven”. A recognition that even the best versions of ourselves still carry weather.
On the way out, a voice from the crowd sums it up simply: “She sounded as good as she did ten years ago”. Perhaps that’s the real story here - time has passed, perspective has shifted, but Ella Eyre’s voice, unmistakable and assured, remains right where it belongs. There’s a reason she’s an artist who has remained in everybody’s hearts and on their playlists for the past ten years.
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