When you have just shaved your head, there is no better gig to go to than Self Esteem. Since her first single in 2017 under the moniker, musician Rebecca Lucy Taylor has created music for people to listen to and let go of their inhibitions. Self Esteem liberated Taylor from her past as a modest indie singer in the band Slow Club, allowing her to step into a queer, maximalist pop present. This is why listening to ‘I’m Fine’ or ‘Hobbies 2’ is like putting on a pair of shoes that make you feel truly yourself and let you dance as wildly as you want. They freed Taylor to speak about the misogyny she has experienced in the music industry, being moody, recovering from trauma, so they are freeing for her fans too. I would go as far as to say her new album, Prioritise Pleasure, that has been out just under a month, is the musical equivalent of a buzzcut.
Everyone who had come to see Self Esteem seemed to be with me on my new haircut high, stomping for Taylor and shouting her lyrics back to her. This is no easy feat because Taylor’s lyrics are complex, fast-moving glimpses into her psyche. The single ‘I Do This All The Time’ is almost five minutes of spoken-word, vocalising all the contradictory feelings someone might experience when invited to a boring birthday drinks. But, if these words are things you yourself have thought before but never said out loud, they will inevitably become embedded in your mind. There are mantras in these songs I can never forget. It’s been several years since I’ve listened to Self Esteem’s debut album, Compliments Please, but when I heard the driving drumbeat of ‘Rollout’ I was suddenly wailing “What I might have achieved / If I wasn’t trying to please”.
The reason these songs function as anthems is because they were equally important to Taylor at their inception. Screenshots of her notes app often appear on her Instagram featuring a sentence or two that is outrageously honest and contains more than a pinch of irony:“‘Sexting you at the mental health talk seems counterproductive”. Much later these phrases will resurface attached to a melody. Self Esteem is formed from Taylor’s inner monologue.
At Leadmill, Taylor dances round the stage accompanied by her three excellent backing singers and dancers, the high-energy, meticulously choreographed moves adding another layer to the nuanced songs. But Taylor isn’t aspiring to perfect pop princess-dom. She is unafraid to be off-beat, sometimes literally; at one point her and her backing dancer Levi make a mistake, get the giggles, embrace and Taylor insists they start the song over. She sings directly to the audience, smiling, winking, waving. It is obvious how much it means to hear people scream her lyrics, especially in this venue as a Sheffield artist who has been “coming to Leadmill since I was underage”.
She is no distant, untouchable Ariana; Taylor remains in tune with the audience throughout the performance. When there is an issue between a few people on the front row Taylor immediately puts the house lights up and crouches down: “Right, what’s going on, do I have to kick someone out? Let’s problem solve because if you can’t be kind and get on it’s going to bother me all night”. These songs rely on an audience that is in the moment with her.
Towards the end of the show comes the poignant ‘Just Kids’ and she asks everyone to pause their euphoria. The space is filled with shushes.
These connections – between the musician and her hometown, the people in the crowd and those on the stage- is just as strong as the bond between Taylor and her songs. Hearing her belt them with her powerhouse voice revealed meanings to those sometimes obscure lyrics that I had never grasped before. On Friday she told us her stories through the songs and we divulged our own when singing along.
The only time I regretted debuting my new haircut at the gig was when I realised how well-ventilated Leadmill is as a Covid safe venue – I wasn’t used to my lack of insulation. However, the energy Taylor provided over the 90 minutes was more than enough to combat my chilly exterior – even if my head wasn’t warm, my heart was.
