Little Daylight [Live]


The Bowery Ballroom is a small and intimate venue, which I thoroughly recommend to visit if you ever are in New York. The tickets are cheap-and-cheerful and the space reminds me of the under-18s youth-club I used to attend, where you would sneak bottles of vodka through the doors hidden down your pants. I don’t know if that helps in describing the venue. What I am trying to convey is its quaint, unpretentious charm, but now you probably have the image of a hormonal spotty teen with an alarming bulge down their nether regions.

In this piece I will be focussing on Little Daylight, the support act for Bastille. They graced the stage to what felt like a tranquilised crowd, but transformed the aura of the room completely to an upbeat, animated assemblage. Support Acts usually only seem to provide the background music for the queue to the bar, to get the last minute drinks in before the good band start; forgettable and monotonous. Little Daylight were quite the contrary - engaging and fun. They are definitely too good to miss for another pint.

The trio have only just released their EP ‘Tunnel Vision’ yet they have the stage presence of a honed, experienced act with the charisma of being fresh and new. Nikki, the bands leading lady, has an enigmatic appeal, like the concoction you would get if you put a fairy and a few tablespoons of electronic techno in a blender. Her voice is mesmerising and Little Daylight’s music, with its pop hooks and distinctive beat, is unapologetically catchy.

For me the climax in their performance was when they broke in to ‘Glitter and Gold’. It’s a song you can get lost in and one you’ll sing along to, even though you didn’t know the words. ‘Overdose’ was also a highlight, I felt like I could still hear echoes of the melody 10 minutes after it had played.

Little Daylight are a completely new and dynamic music experience and I defy anyone apart from my father (who only listens to his one Simply Red album on repeat) to not be a tiny bit addicted to their hypnotic songs.

By Charlotte Louise Long

'Overdose' by Little Daylight.