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For many people Glastonbury Festival headliners, crowds on Sunday night It is the lowest hanging fruit. The survivors, sleepless, restless, mentally exhausted, have the most delicate heartstrings, most susceptible to the slightest heartbeat and the faintest pang of nostalgia.
But like Shenzhen AirlinesThe 34-year-old singer, whose real name is Solana Imani Rowe, offered no help. Dua Lipa’s laser-guided precision and Coldplay’s FireworksSZA, the R&B genius who swept the Grammys and has a host of blunt and heartbreaking songs, may be a hard brand to sell. She is less a cultural giant than a secret shared by millions.
But there are some benefits to attending four days of the world’s largest and most popular Greenbelt festival. Beyond the emotional intensity, there’s empathy and brotherhood. Though not yet a household name in the UK – “Who is SZA?” the uninitiated ask – she’s the perfect conduit for our heightened empathy, too cerebral to stir up a storm but enough to make us feel the final excitement.
She rose from a stage that resembled both an ice cave and an ancient Egyptian palace, catapulting first from the stringy melody of “PSA” and then into the frenetic “Love Galore,” wearing a bronze dress with tassels and backed by a group of piston dancers.
“Why bother with me when you know you got a woman?” she sings, as if she and the jaded weekenders in attendance are in some destructive fever dream.
This high energy production and live band continues Control keys – 2017’s quietly famous album – 2022’s follow-up SOSThe American chart-topper repurposes her bedroom confessional to create an oversized intimate atmosphere. Every musical flourish is accompanied by fairy lights, and every pregnant pause is stretched like a balloon ready to pop.
The crowd — one of the sparsest in recent years — had plenty of room for fans to perform theatrical serenades and form dozens of micro mosh pits to the pop-punk sounds of “FWF.”
On a meticulously staged set, SZA seemed to be acting out her own crazy fairy tale, straddling a giant ant model, crushing a throne-shaped humanoid, twirling double blades in a dance routine, then climbing a life-sized tree trunk on fairy wings before launching into a rendition of Drake’s “Rich Baby Daddy.” The choreography was so intense that it sometimes distracted from the intoxicating sung and semi-rapped confessions that often left you breathless if she was paying full attention.
The medley of Doja Cat’s collaboration “Kiss Me More” and Prince’s surprise cover of “Kiss” was perfectly timed, just as the night was drawing to a close and the crowd was beginning to get eager to party.
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But highlights like “Supermodel” — which expresses social anxiety, status anxiety, petty jealousies and self-blame in a jaded and apologetic tone — stand in stark contrast to the empowerment anthems of contemporaries like Friday night headliner Dua Lipa, whose second album is titled “No Room for Radical Optimism.” SZA is an ambassador of radical nihilism.
On “Twentysomething,” she took her devoted fans into a dreamlike state of ecstasy and emotional collapse, even as she made no effort to attract new fans. She made us work for it, rather than spoon-feeding us fireworks and feelings, which made this somber, strangely intimate show all the more powerful. For one night at least, the secret was out, allowing SZA and Glastonbury’s downtrodden faithful to suffer in solidarity.
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