In Waves - Rainbow Kitten Surprise at Brixton Academy

Alan Bryce
3 hours ago
4 min read

O2 Brixton Academy – 9th June 2026

IMAGES / WORDS ALAN BRYCE

In Waves - Rainbow Kitten Surprise at Brixton Academy — Credit: ALAN BRYCE

I got to Brixton Academy early enough to feel the place come alive in stages. The scattered early arrivals, the tightening pockets of fans, the slow swell of bodies and noise until the room felt ready to tip over into something louder, sharper. There was anticipation there, definitely, but it hadn’t quite found its centre yet. That arrived with ‘cigarettes @ sunset’.

They didn’t try to command the room, which turned out to be exactly what worked. Their set unfolded in this slow, deliberate way. Soft-edged, slightly melancholic, built on textures that felt more immersive than immediate. At first, it sat in the background: people talking, moving, finding their places. But the songs lingered. Hooks caught quietly, almost without announcing themselves, and you could feel the shift as conversations dropped off and attention began to focus.

What they did so well was restraint. They never pushed for a reaction; they let it form. By the midpoint, Brixton had settled into them, heads nodding, bodies swaying, the room tuned to something more introspective. The applause at the end wasn’t explosive, but it was real. They’d done exactly what a support slot should: reshaped the space without overstating their presence, leaving everything poised for the main act to cut through.

When Rainbow Kitten Surprise stepped out, the contrast hit immediately. “Our Song” snapped the room into motion. No easing in, just a clean jolt from stillness into momentum. They pressed forward through “Hide” and “Dang” without pause, building that sense of urgency, tightening the energy until the crowd had no choice but to move with it.

“Matchbox” and “Drop Stop Roll” pushed things further outward, looser and more kinetic, the kind of stretch where the floor feels like it might give way under the weight of it. Then “Fever Pitch” opened everything up, the band letting it run a little longer, a little wilder, stretching the edges until it felt less like a fixed structure and more like something still being figured out in the moment. That looseness bled into “Espionage,” which tilted the mood slightly sideways, before they drew things inward with “All’s Well That Ends,” easing the room into a more reflective space without fully breaking the momentum.

That constant recalibration defined the set. “Never Have I Ever” pulled things back toward something lighter, more playful, and “Goodnight Chicago” softened the atmosphere just enough to feel intimate despite the scale. But they didn’t stay there. “Murder” and “Cocaine Jesus” darkened the tone again, heavier, more deliberate, Ela Melo’s voice front and centre: raw, elastic, occasionally fraying at the edges in a way that only made it land harder. You could feel the audience responding differently here: less movement, more attention, people holding onto the words.

“Painkillers” deepened that inward feeling, almost suspending the room, and from there the acoustic section landed with real weight. “Black and White,” “Bare Bones,” and “First Class” stripped everything back completely. No distortion, no driving rhythm. Just voice and minimal accompaniment. Brixton, usually restless, went quiet in that rare, genuine way. People sang along, but softly, like they understood this was something fragile. It didn’t feel like a gimmick or a breather; it felt like the emotional core of the night, laid bare without distraction.

Coming out of that was handled carefully. “When It Lands” felt tentative at first, like stepping back into movement, before “Run” rebuilt the energy more decisively. By the time they reached “100 Summers,” the room had opened up again. Lighter, more expansive, bodies moving freely, the tension from earlier released but not forgotten.

They closed the main set with “That’s My Shit,” and it refused to behave like a clean ending. It was loose, loud, slightly chaotic in a way that felt intentional. More release than resolution. The crowd met it with everything they had left, voices blown out, energy spilling past the final notes rather than stopping neatly with them. But that wasn’t the end.

After a brief collapse into darkness and that familiar roar of insistence from the crowd, they returned for an encore that felt less like an add-on and more like a final, necessary exhale. “Tropics” came first, easing back in with a looseness that reconnected band and audience without forcing the intensity too quickly. It carried a different kind of energy. Less confrontational, more fluid.

Then came “It’s Called: Freefall,” and the reaction was immediate and undeniable. The room lifted again, voices rising in unison, but there was something different about it this time. It didn’t feel like the explosive surge of an opening run; it felt fuller, more collective, like everyone understood what they’d just been through together. It landed as both release and reflection, drawing threads from across the night into something that felt quietly definitive, even as the band avoided any sense of neat resolution.

What lingered was the shape of it all. The setlist didn’t aim for a straight climb or a single peak; it moved in waves, pushing outward, pulling inward, constantly shifting tone and intensity. The audience didn’t just react, they travelled through it, adjusting with every turn. ‘cigarettes @ sunset’ had softened and focused the room, and Rainbow Kitten Surprise took that openness and stretched it in every direction until it felt like something shared rather than simply watched.

Walking back out into Brixton afterwards, everything felt a little too steady, too contained. Inside had been something messier, more volatile, more alive—and it didn’t quite let go when you left.

SET LIST