FKA Twigs moves like no one else. This is not just a comment on her dancing, but her entire presence as a performer. To watch her perform Eusexua was to see her transform the stage she occupied, committing entirely to each section before shifting seamlessly within the space. Most artists I have seen previously either plant themselves at the centre, allowing the production to move around them, or erratically roam the stage. Twigs does neither. She moves with intention, making her shows constant spectacles.

I went to see FKA Twigs at Magazine London, a venue which sits on the edge of the Thames in Greenwich (my wonderful hometown). It felt like the perfect space for Eusexua, given you had a good spot. Everything in the venue encouraged dancing – with its high ceilings, air conditioning, and an impeccable sound system, Magazine made an ideal backdrop for a show where movement took precedence.

What I found so captivating about the Eusexua show was the intersection of the intimate and the theatrical. She managed to hold both in relation to one another, without letting the performance drown out her humanity and the emotional experience of the show. It was a journey through the many eras she has inhabited over the years, all channelled through the lens of her latest evolution.

“It was hard to watch Twigs passively – we were moving in the moment with her”

Twigs split her presence on stage in a way that felt very deliberate. She would fully inhabit the left side, then the right, ensuring each section of the audience felt at the heart of the experience. When she lingered on one side, it was as if she was granting permission for us to take our ‘Instagram-worthy’ shots. Yet, when she gracefully moved to the other side, it felt like an invitation to follow her naturally with our gaze, rather than with our phones. She did not demand attention, but orchestrated it, giving us the opportunity to witness and not capture. In an age where events are often mediated through phone screens, it was hard to watch Twigs passively – we were moving in the moment with her.

The show opened with a dramatic silence partnered with smoke machines, making us wait in anticipation before Twigs began singing ‘Thousand Eyes,’ the opening track from her 2019 record Magdalene. Dressed in ethereal flowing silver robes, Twigs was accompanied by dancers whose movements mirrored the haunting qualities of the tune. Then came ‘Mary Magdalene,’ a ballad referencing the biblical figure who was a close friend and follower of Jesus, but was written off as a prostitute by men. Twigs’ delivery was intense, staring into the crowd’s eyes while singing “I’m what you desire / Come just a little closer ’til we collide.” It felt like each lyric was part of a private conversation between the artist and audience.

As the dissonant synths echoed through the speakers, I immediately screamed in my friend’s face, fully aware that my favourite track from Eusexua, ‘Room of Fools,’ was about to be played. The booming bass mirrored the pulsing of her body, her movements synchronised with the rhythm. Twigs was indeed bleeding out the pressure, and it did feel very nice.

“She was not just performing the song, but toyed with the very idea of it”

I cannot say much about ‘Striptease’ as I was too busy dancing to notice what was happening on stage. However, I feel like that is where the show’s beauty lies – it was impossible not to get lost in the experience. ‘Drums of Death’ made us feel like we were living out the music video in real-time. I did not know that someone could lift their legs that high, and it really felt like she was embodying the name ‘Twigs.’

Just as we began to lose ourselves in the pure physicality of her choreography, Twigs pulled us back into something more reflective. Instead of launching straight into the song ‘Keep It, Hold It,’ she introduced it through a faux interview skit, offering thank yous to the London audience in a robotic voice. It was amusing, yet revealing. In that moment, she was not just performing the song, but toyed with the very idea of it. Twigs momentarily disrupted the flow of her show, stepping into a self-aware and almost ironic tone, dramatising the idea of performance. However, she still used this moment to deepen the audience’s engagement, making us aware of the fluidity between theatricality and authenticity in her work.

During the gig, we were in a ’Room of Fools.’ The liberation that Twigs found in a rave in Prague (which inspired the writing of the song) became ours for the night. Twigs’ ability to guide rather than demand characterised the show. She did not have to ask for silence during her concluding performance of ‘Cellophane,’ the way Lorde once did for ‘Writer in the Dark,’ it came naturally. The experience was a shared moment of connection, as Twigs made us active participants in her world.

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