Billie Eilish’s face is blown up across a four-sided, NBA-style jumbotron. Below, tracked by camera crews, she prowls a bare stage akin to a boxing ring – a rectangle slapped in the middle of the arena, fans everywhere she turns. Such media-heavy, mega-watt staging is immediately at odds with ambiguous opener Chihiro: “You won’t forget my name, not today, not tomorrow, kinda strange, feelin’ sorrow,” she murmurs, featherlight, over distant, rumbling subwoofer and watery electric guitar.
The challenge for Eilish’s arena tours has always been to balance her talent for intimacy with her clear interest in spectacle. It’s unfortunate but perhaps inevitable that the intricate production quirks of tracks such as Lunch and Wildflower get lost in the mix tonight, with just the drums pounding through, but she compensates with astute theatrics; at still just 23, Eilish offers some of pop’s sharpest commentary on the push and pull of fame.
