Playing her biggest British show to date, Baby Queen signalled her lofty pop-star ambitions by treating the half-full Electric Ballroom like it was a sold-out Wembley Arena. The alter ego of 24-year-old Arabella Latham, a South African who has called London home for the last six years, this pig-tailed punkette has generated considerable media buzz with her deceptively sweet pop-grunge songs about crushing heartbreak, sexual confusion, depression and drug abuse. Backed by a trio of male musicians, Baby Queen played the role of emotionally volatile hot mess. But Latham herself remained focussed and determined throughout, delivering a high-voltage performance and pressing all the right empathy buttons to connect with her young, mostly female audience.
Latham cites Taylor Swift and Lady Gaga as key musical role models, but her songs are more raucous and risqué than either, with more swearing and more drug references. Hedonistic excess may be a tired rock cliché but Latham’s lyrics approach this terrain from a more thoughtful angle, often drawing a link between drug use, low self-esteem and fragile mental health. Two early examples in this show were Raw Thoughts, a confessional chronicle of chemical delirium wrapped in candy-floss harmonies, and the self-explanatory These Drugs, which built from a brooding comedown hangover into a thunderous, clanging, muscular show-stopper.
There is a self-aware edge to Latham’s lyrics which helps elevate her more gauche, unremarkable songs. “My name is Bella and I’m a f***ing narcissist!”, she howled at the start of rowdy semi-rap number Narcissist, thus insulating herself against charges of being an egotistical diva. Not that such knowing ploys always worked. Announcing her last-minute decision to play an under-rehearsed, unplugged version of her latest release, Colours of You, she warned any critics present not to judge her unpolished performance: “You’re going to give me five stars for this”, she insisted. The song features in Netflix’s feted new queer coming-of-age drama Heartstopper, and Latham invited the show’s young cast onstage with her. This was a sweet gesture, but the track itself still sounded like a thin, plodding dirge. Not worth five stars, sorry Bella.
Despite faint stylistic nods to Courtney Love, Kathleen Hanna, MIA and other riot-grrrl ancestors, Baby Queen mostly trades in toothless rebellion and routine feminist-lite messages. That said, Latham has fashioned her alter ego into a generally compelling punk-pop package. A boisterous new tune titled Nobody Really Cares already sounded like an arena-sized anthem, while the finale was stuffed with catchy sing-along hooks and towering chorus melodies, from the sarcasm-drenched social-anxiety song Buzzkill to the frenetic Want Me, reportedly a love letter to Latham’s famous friend and girl crush, Jodie Comer of Killing Eve fame. This show was lively and fun, but more a testament to stellar ambition than musical originality.
