It ‘s official now: Self Esteem performed one of the best ever sets at Glastonbury, televised by the BBC. Rebecca Lucy Taylor is now a bona fide pop star, from the moment she sashayed onto the stage with her anti- Handmaids to the euphoric finale with everyone in a conga line, kitted out in Sheffield Wednesday football strips. She’s the epitome of pop subversion, a rarity amid the bland likes of Jorja Smith, Jade, Lola Young and Wet Leg. The truth is, though, she always was, even in her Slow Club days.
Rape and sexual assault is on the increase in the UK, a recent report stated it’s the highest since records began. There were 194,683 recorded incidents in England and Wales alone between 2021-22. This depressing statistic is hard to take, especially for survivors. And Taylor occupies a space for feminist discourse in her knotty but empowering lyrics like few others. She alludes to dodging violence and staying safe in her lyrics, while still making the pop kids groove. We need her to fill in the gaps left by lesser artists.
Taylor effortlessly embodies theatricality like Kate Bush and Grace Jones before her, deadpan delivery dissolving into giggles, even when ruminating on toxic relationships in ‘Fucking Wizardry ‘ or misogyny in ‘I Do This All The Time ‘.
The most recent songs are beautifully rendered too. Recent album A Complicated Woman brings out the most soulful vocals (‘ I Do And I Don’t Care’, ‘Focus Is Power’) and her ever -so naughty side on the sexually voracious, consent-positive ’69’. But underpinning it all is the call to arms for women, trans and non-binary people to be represented and recognised, in the music industry and, well, pretty much everywhere . Eat her dust, doubters. Taylor is a working class -goddess in a festival dominated by trite, safe artists. She’s the tits: looks like a young Kate Winslet, mouth like a navvy. All hail the good witches.
Hit The North 