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Gracie Abrams review – telling references tied together in a big, bland bow
Her songs recall Taylor Swift and Phoebe Bridgers, so much so it’s hard not to wish you were listening to them instead. Not that that bothers her excitable young fans
Anyone just a few years older than the bulk of the crowd – a group that, judging by the pungent smell in the arena, is around that age where you’re old enough to sweat but not to have the confidence to ask your parents for antiperspirant – will probably identify Abrams’ songs by their reference points. Mixed in with the BO are the distinct scents of the National (Aaron Dessner produced both of Abrams’ albums), Lorde, Mumford & Sons and – above all – Swift and Phoebe Bridgers: a nonspecific pastiche using energetically strummed acoustic guitar, quotidian lyricism and precious twig-snap percussion; coffeehouse folk for the contactless delivery era. The songs from The Secret of Us feel richer and roomier in this live setting – Abrams’ band thankfully not giving in to arena-pop tropes such as heavy-handed drums or needless guitar solos – and her voice sounds strong and tour fit.
Or read this on The Guardian
