Poised at the front of the queue I waited as the usher shifted her weight from her left to right foot and eyed me up and down for the fifteenth time. She knew I meant business. As more and more people filtered in through the door, the adrenaline started to rush into my veins and caused my face to get hot. None of these people would cut in front of me. No. Fucking. Way.
A pregnant woman teetered on her toes next to me, looking over my shoulder. I wrestled with my morality for a moment. No fetus was going to beat me down the stairs. It hadn't even bought a ticket, the cheeky fucker. The woman let out a frustrated breath and wrapped herself around her belly as if it were a parcel she were carrying and not a belly full of fluid with a person suspended in it. I rolled my eyes and created a tiny pocket in front of me and motioned for her to fill it. Of course I let the pregnant lady wait ahead of me. I'm not a monster.
Just then the usher unhooked the rope, and at last we were off. Everyone had to make the same decision, to run or to possibly spill our drinks. We all looked like adult egg-and-spoon contestants trying to contain the liquid in our glasses whilst we maintained a brisk pace down the stairs. Steve and I settled in some equally cold and uncomfortable seats at the front of the stage. I always get a seat at the front of the stage. That's why I show up early.
I had seen lady Rizo two times before. Once on a whim before I had ever heard of her, and then the last time for her Violet album launch. It's a fantastic album. You can listen here: https://itunes.apple.com/gb/artist/lady-rizo/id319457979 Last night I was unsure of what to expect. The first two shows were drastically different and this time she'd just finished her run at the Edinburgh festival and had recently completed a tour of Australia and New Zealand. Through my Twitter feed I followed her; inexplicably proud, as if I'd discovered her. And I had, as thousands of people are now discovering her. I wanted her to be as good as she was the first time I saw her. When I was totally absorbed in the glamor and the fun. For her to not have watered down her show too much, for it to be worth me nearly cutting off a pregnant woman and it was. It really, really was.
To say Lady Rizo is a delight would be like saying a perfectly chilled glass of vintage Dom Perignon was 'nice' and not 'utterly delicious.' She is a force majure of raw, visceral vocal skill, pure sexuality and unapologetic humour. Last night she added a denuded vulnerability I'd not seen before, and at times felt I shouldn't have been seeing, but I never even attempted to look away. It would be impossible. She is a bejeweled, disco princess of desire. She is somehow both vintage and current and you can't take your eyes off of her.
In the three times I've seen Lady Rizo, she has had varying musical accompaniment. From a full band, to just a guitar and a drum kit. The musicians she works with are impeccable. Their timing and their cohesion never falters. Last night she performed with just her cellist come guitarist, Yaine. He is her beautiful co-writer who at times appears to know what Lady Rizo is about to do before she does. His cello wept and rejoiced under Rizo's sensually dark, dripping vocals. At times, while watching them together I caught myself fantasizing that they were lovers. The intimacy between them feels more than musical and is insanely beautiful.
Last night's performance centered around her genesis as Lady Rizo. An angel and a devil were selected from the audience with much hilarity, and as her tale of romance and betrayal unfurled, mash ups of DeAngelo and the Carpenters surprised and thrilled us. The whole night she had us eating out of the palm of her hand, and occasionally her beautifully displayed cleavage.
The evolution of Lady Rizo's gowns continue to reveal her success. No longer the head-to-toe sequins, which upon closer inspection were damaged and patched multiple times. Last night's gowns looked as though they stepped right out of the Charles James exhibit in New York. The feather eyelashes were retired and it was an altogether very sophisticated Lady Rizo that stood before us. Her costume changes were as theatrical as they were inclusive and are all part of the fun. We in the audience were as invested in a boa made of ribbon as we were her melancholy and slightly manic rendition of Amanda Palmer's 'I Google you.'
Once the show was over she sat in the back happily signing autographs with the enthusiasm of someone who still maybe can't believe people want them. I told her giddily that 'I really appreciate what you do.' To which she responded with a very sweet 'thank you for standing in line to tell me that' and then signed the tank top I bought at her last performance, her hooded eyes printed across my breasts. I hope people tell Lady Rizo that they appreciate what she does every night, but if they don't, the crowds she is drawing certainly convey that very important message.
If you live in London. please do yourself a massive favour and go and see her in this tiny, stuffy, incredibly intimate venue before she starts filling stadiums. The rest of the world, please look here to find her performing somewhere local to you. http://www.ladyrizo.com/calendar/
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