Luvcat @KOKO, London (Live Review)
- Published in Live
Luvcat
KOKO
Words & Pics by Captain Stavros
Stray-Cats & Scarlet Curtains: Luvcat’s Cure-Inflected Coronation at Koko
If you were on the socials in the latter part of October, you were guaranteed to see an uptick in horror memes, selfies with pumpkin-spice lattes; and Sophie Morgan Howarth a.k.a. Luvcat. Luvcat, seemed to erupt out of nowhere: a Sally-from-The Nightmare Before Christmas meets Amy Winehouse chimera suddenly colonising feeds across central London. And judging by the cavalcade now snaking down Camden High Street, it appears the rest of the city got the memo too.
We find ourselves at the tail end of that line outside KOKO, the word on the street being that it’s been growing unchecked since the morning. An eclectic flock chatters in high spirits, while my +1 frets about needing more makeup; “I need to put on more makeup,” he mutters, making his way towards the loo like he's auditioning for his own gothic cabaret. Rather than stress about the VIP queue we’ve been politely escorted out of, we detour instead into the pub, opting for the sloped path leading to seating which offers us a vantage point to keep an eye on the procession for movement and one elbow firmly on the bar.
When we re-emerge, a bit left of centre, the endless human serpent is nearly through the door. In our path, two loiterers casually necking Pinot Gris straight from the bottle block our path; classic Camden. Naturally we stall, chat, the bottle finds its way into our hands too, and suddenly that bottle morphs into lukewarm Sainsbos tins of gin and vodka. Oh my!. As long-time fans of Luvcat’s arc; from Paper Dress Vintage to MOTH to this sold-out KOKO climax, we ask what the fuss’s about. “She’s larger than life,” one says. “Like The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus but with heartbreak.” “It’s confessional. Swirling. Madness”, adds the other. We squint, trying to absorb it all, then realise we’ve missed the opener. We shove through the crowd, fighting for even a sliver of sightline towards the stage. KOKO is rammed.
Inside, the venue has been transformed into Luvcat’s crooked cabaret. A battered upright piano sits stage-left, draped in pearls and velvet gloom, crowned with a single green bottle glinting under the lights. Beside it stands Jack Fussey, casting sly glances between the pinstripes of his suit. Alongside him are Andy Richmond, Tom Fripp, and Will Jaquet; the four collaborators maintaining Luvcat’s orbit.
Sophie emerges, now Luvcat and drifts into view like a phantom with rehearsal scars; half-moon blonde hair, raven undercurrent, a tiny bow perched just so. The roar that greets her rattles the discoball. She begins at the piano, fingers trembling with theatre-born intent, opening with ‘Lipstick’, the crowd hanging on each phrase as though it were encoded with secrets.
Then the band shifts gears. Fussey’s chord rings out, jagged and heavy, and the stomping anthem ‘Matador’ hits like a firecracker in a tin can. The floor surges. People don’t just sing, they surrender. Shortly after, she returns to the piano for ‘Alien’, a dark confession of cosmic loneliness and horizontal heartbreak, the green bottle again catching the light like a silent witness.
Suddenly the theatre morphs. The drummer (whose kit lurks under the magenta haze) locks into a marching-snare rhythm; the band dons embellished jackets as though they’ve just walked off a stage set in 1920s Berlin. With a flourish she brandishes an accordion and launches into ‘Dinner @ Brasserie Zédel’, turning the room into a cabaret madhouse. Richmond and Fripp trade rhythmic punches; Jaquet perched on a high stool, keeping the chaos grounded.
Then comes the penultimate song: ‘Love & Money’. A slow build. Sophie grips the mic with both hands, voice low, tension taut. The crowd hushes. Then she unleashes a belt so raw it scrapes the air. Screams, tears, phones rising vertically like lighters, the moment fractures time. People clutch one another. We hold our breath. The stage is both altar and battlefield.
Finally, ‘He’s My Man’ closes the set; full circus, full heartbreak, full Luvcat. The band takes their bow, the curtain of red behind them soaking up the applause like velvet bruises. They toast. They linger. They leave us wanting more.
Stepping back into Camden, the city is different: glitter on collars, strangers arguing their favourite song, makeup smeared in cathartic victories. This wasn’t a “rising star” set, this was the moment after. KOKO didn’t just host a show, it witnessed a coronation. Luvcat didn’t just perform, she wove us together into her universe. We couldn’t help thinking this wouldn’t be the last we’d hear of this charming performer because in the words of the good Doctor Parnassus “You can’t stop a story being told.”
