I decided to see FKA Twigs on her Body High Tour at the Coca-Cola Roxy just 12 hours before the show, and it turned out to be one of the best decisions I have ever made. She was touring in support of her recent albums Eusexua and Eusexua Afterglow. Twigs describes “Eusexua” as a kind of euphoria that transcends the human form until you reach “pure nothingness but also pure focus”, and from the moment the show began, it felt like she was pulling the entire audience into that state.
I have been a fan of hers since I was 15, and how could I not be? FKA Twigs is a multi-hyphenate artist, to the point of being comedic; she has a career spanning two decades. She has talents such as singing, dancing, acting, directing, opera, pole dancing, piano, and more. But even that did not prepare me for how incredible the show would be. I have been an avid concertgoer since I was 10 and have worked in live entertainment for almost three years, seeing over twenty-five shows in that time. But this was easily the best concert I have ever experienced. The only person on her level is Beyoncé.
The performance felt like a near-religious experience. The first half of the show immersed us fully in the world of Eusexua. Twigs performed songs like “Sushi,” “Stereo Boy,” and “Drums of Death”, along with unreleased tracks like the Kate Bush–like “Blue Bird.” The stage was constantly in motion. Between the strobing lights, heavy bass, and seamless transitions, she moved from hanging from chains above us to bringing ballroom to the stage, then quick-changing on a bed in the corner while her dancers and an MC kept the energy going with remixes. It felt so chaotic yet so controlled at the same time.
If the first half of the show was eusexua, the second half was the afterglow. The show turned from energetic to soft, but still powerful. She moved into songs from LP1 and MAGDALENE, performing wushu sword choreography and her signature pole dancing (and somehow doing both at once while on the pole with another person. The power of Twigs, I’ll tell you). She closed the show with some of her most emotionally evocative songs, like “Cellophane” and “Two Weeks,” letting the crowd sit in the melancholy.Â
Twigs pulled the crowd into her world in a way I don’t think I’ve ever experienced before. At some moments, we couldn’t even bring ourselves to clap or react. We just stood there in awe, letting the lights and bass wash over us as we took everything in. Or in one instance, the crowd broke out chanting “ATL HOE. ATL HOE,” which Twigs very clearly did not understand, but which made the show even more grounded and present. It didn’t feel like we were just watching a show. It felt like we were drawn into her odd, glittering, euphoric party world.
And that feeling didn’t just stay on the stage; it was in the crowd too. Since this was one of her only two stops in the South, people came from out of state just to be there, and you could feel that everyone really showed up ready to be present. We were already in a trance from the opener, electropop artist Eartheater. To which, after, I found myself talking to people around me about how her music is a sanctuary for them, and how it helped them come into their own. We were exchanging stories about hearing “Two Weeks” for the first time, what certain songs meant to us, and more. I even met fellow HBCU students from Fisk University, discussing what her work means to us specifically as queer Black women.Â
For just those few hours, “Body High” felt like one of the very few spaces where queer people and people of color can come together and celebrate who they are. This made me realize how hard it has become to find these kinds of spaces.Â
Across the U.S., gathering places for marginalized communities are disappearing or underfunded, and many of the spaces that remain are facing increased surveillance or displacement. At the same time, words like “diversity” and “inclusion” are being pushed aside in an increasingly “anti-woke” climate. Because of this, concerts and nightlife have the potential to become among the few remaining spaces where queer people and people of color can exist together, visibly, safely, and joyfully. In that same vein, Twigs’ performance went beyond simply being a show; it served as a tribute to the people that society continues to attempt to eliminate.
Concert environments aren’t perfect. Given that you have to pay to get in the first place, ticket prices keep getting more and more inflated. Even then, there are still class differences within tiered access in venues, as well as a lack of intersectionality. Crowds today can be competitive or disconnected, trying to push to the front or being unmindful of those around them. And I’m sure some of that was happening in that crowd, too. But what I experienced that night, showed me that these kinds of spaces are possible when a performer and audience intentionally hold space for them.
Before Twigs performed her closing ballad, “Cellophane,” the audience gave her a two-minute standing ovation to acknowledge her work over the past two decades. She responded by saying she does this for us and loves how everyone in the crowd expressed themselves that night. In that moment, I knew what we created in that room wasn’t going to last forever, but that didn’t make it feel any less real. If anything, it made it feel more important. In a time where connection feels fragile and community spaces are disappearing, nights like that remind me that those spaces still exist. Even if its pure concentration only lasts a few hours on a dance floor, nights like that feel like “Eusexua” is still possible, and that, as she says in the namesake song, we are not alone.