Some people reading this will wonder why I’ve bothered to see Sky Ferreira. She released her breakout debut, Night Time, My Time, in 2013, and her long-awaited sophomore has been delayed time and time again. She’s racked up a lengthy lore of late arrivals, set cut-offs and disinterested performances (which this current tour only adds to). For most of her set, her face is shrouded in the glare of neon lights; at points, she drags her tousled platinum hair over her sunglasses.
Sky Ferreira is so visibly uncomfortable on stage that I wonder why she’s even bothered – but tonight’s performance proves this is someone who really, desperately needs to be seen.
When I say “seen”, I don’t just mean physically. Of course, you should go see Ferreira; she’s got an untouchable aura that many pop stars have tried (and failed) to reproduce, and her voice toes a curious line between breathy sighs and powerful belts. In an era where listeners were assaulted with facsimiles of 80s synthpop, Ferreira’s album has aged impressively well. But there’s something deeper that she wants to be heard, and it seems as though the only way we can listen is through her singing.
Something shifted in her when she began to sing ‘Sad Dream’. By this point, Ferreira had rambled through most of the crowd-pleasers (‘You’re Not The One’, ‘I Blame Myself’). It was gone way past eleven, the standard curfew for most venues; Ferreira had given no signal she was playing her greatest hit ‘Everything Is Embarrassing’. She was cramming in as much material as possible, presumably before someone kicked her off the stage.
‘Sad Dream’ is an old tune of hers, taken off her first EP Ghost. I always impatiently dismissed it as too slow for my taste and never paid it any mind. But as Ferreira began to cradle the microphone in her hands, I was startled when she began to cry: “I was blindsided by the grief”.
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It’s hard to make out what Ferreira’s trying to say. The word “brother” is buried somewhere in her speech, and she profusely apologises to the crowd and tries to recompose herself. She’s having a hard time finding the words to describe what she’s going through. “This is so embarrassing,” she laments. But eventually, she stops. Turned away from the crowd, bathed in lavender light, head tipped open to the heavens, Ferreira starts to sing. It’s just Sky, her guitarist, and her feelings, whatever they may be, out in the open air for everyone to witness. This is why I came to see her.
I don’t know what Ferreira is going through right now. She’s had multiple chronic health issues over the years. Historically, she has at times struggled to articulate herself: she was mute for years as a child, and has hinted at tensions within her label (who she quietly parted ways with last November).
Maybe one day she’ll find the words to say what’s happening; perhaps she never will. I know nothing, except I have seen one of the rawest performances of ‘Sad Dream’ Ferreira’s delivered to date, and the tragedy of its closing lines echo back as the crowd sings it for her whilst she cries:
“Only ever in dreams, I wrap my arms around you
And standing in the water with me
I can tell you what I wanna tell you
And I hope it’s not just a bad dream
Hope it’s not just a sad dream”
Photo credit: Getty Images
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