Music, and the things it can express that words might not, feels more accessible and more immediately impactful than ever. Perhaps it's just me, but the membrane between artists and listeners seems particularly thin right now. That sense of connection has in turn influenced my listening this May. It was impossible not to be left reeling in communal glee. Her forthcoming debut album is superb, but nevertheless not out until July, yet her audience responded with the kind of beautiful, overwhelming fervour that only occasionally greets even artists of ten times her size. There was one show in particular, Naima Bock's sold-out headline gig at The Lexington in King's Cross earlier this week, that was particularly restorative. My energy still depleted post-COVID, in a physical sense I feel exhausted, but in another I feel revitalised. It feels notable how many gigs I've been to this May – from friends' music in pubs and hype bands in bougie new Soho basements, to international acts back on their major tours and an inner-city festival.
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