Live Review & Gallery: Magnetic and Unfiltered – FLETCHER’s Pop Confessional Hits Sydney’s Hordern 27.10.2024


Fletcher
Images Deb Pelser

The Hordern Pavilion hums tonight, powered by a femme electric energy as the crowd sways in anticipation. FLETCHER (Cari Elise Fletcher, known mononymously by her last name,) the Asbury Park native who cracked the pop world open with ‘Undrunk’ in 2019, is bringing her blunt storytelling and magnetic presence, to the packed out venue.

From Spotify’s Viral Chart to the Billboard Hot 100, FLETCHER’s trajectory has been all about redefining pop’s emotional landscape. A product of NYU’s Clive Davis Institute, she’s toured sold-out rooms and conquered stages at festivals like Lollapalooza and Bonnaroo, creating music that mirrors the mess of modern love. Her 2020 release, THE S(EX) TAPES, hit No. 1 on iTunes, carried by the moody single ‘Bitter,’ which now boasts over 175 million streams. This year, FLETCHER released ‘In Search of the Antidote’, a second album that hits like a gut punch. It’s a portrait of unraveling — raw vulnerability stitched into every lyric, carried by vocals that ache and soar in equal measure.

As I step into the Hordern, a woman with bright pink hair rushes up to me. She tells me her story: her wife was diagnosed with breast cancer in her twenties, and the only thing that got them through that awful time, was listening to FLETCHER. She’s desperate to share this with the artist herself. I wish her luck, hoping the story makes it to FLETCHER somehow. There are plenty of rainbow flags and I spot a couple waltzing in the middle of the dance floor.

The pre-show playlist pulses with Ethel Cain, The Last Dinner Party, and Chappell Roan—her presence practically mandatory at this point. Charley opens the night, vibing with her sapphic crowd, her energy infectious. Mid-set, she takes an impromptu call from Chappell Roan, and dives headfirst into a charged cover of “Good Luck Babe,” setting the tone for the night.

By the time FLETCHER steps onto the stage, the place feels like it might combust. A massive screen glows behind her, incongruously flashing words like “crazy bitch” and “narcissist.” Standing on a raised pedestal, she delivers the first two songs like anthems, commanding the room with equal parts relief and triumph. After two cancelled attempts—one sidelined by Lyme disease—she’s finally here, visibly grateful to make it to Sydney at last.

This is the last stop of her Australian tour she tells us, urging the crowd to scream her lyrics like they mean it. And they do—loud, messy, and unrelenting, voices crack and shake, bodies pressed together in shared catharsis, as the words spill out—exactly the way FLETCHER likes it.

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