In among Parks’s many strengths, though, is one curious anomaly. Her words make frequent reference to colours, or fruits – the light with the weighty, the uncommon with the everyday. (Unsurprisingly, the evolving discussion about the mental health of musicians is close to her heart.) Of all the gen-Z bedroom poets throwing genre over their shoulders, Parks is one of the most instantly recognisable a queer person of colour who can nail down her wider generation’s feeling of emotional exhaustion, or the crystalline clarity of a passing moment, in a tender coo that often references the cadences of hip-hop. A full-on touring schedule culminated in Parks cancelling some US dates last year in the interests of self-care. Two Grammy nominations followed Collapsed in Sunbeams’s success in the UK, as well as support slots with huge names such as Harry Styles and Billie Eilish. (“I hold the Taco Bell and you cried over Eugene,” ran one of its most-loved songs, Eugene.) Tonight, older songs such as Caroline and Black Dog locate her work in her native London – Oxford Street, corner shops – while almost photostatically preserving an arguing couple, or Parks facing down a friend’s depression. Her debut album, Collapsed in Sunbeams, won the Mercury prize in 2021 with its closely observed vignettes.
Some artists deal in generalities or aphorisms or riddles others drill down into the granular and the personal, mining specifics for universal effect. We learn, too, as Bruiseless spools out, that she is “listening to Loomer” (by My Bloody Valentine) – and that “the person I love is feeding me cheese, and I’m happy”.
But the first few seconds of her re-emergence at this low-key gig could not be a more succinct reminder of her appeal: the way she plants emotional depth charges inside a deceptively easygoing musical manner.
Parks has been out of sight for some time, putting the finishing touches to her highly anticipated second full-length outing, released this week. “Almost everyone I love has been abused/ And I am included.” Her band add some loose breakbeats and an intriguing jazzy thrum to a track that is the opening to her new album, My Soft Machine. The singer-songwriter emerges from the gloom at the back of this south-west London club’s stage words-first, speaking more than singing – her soft tones recognisable, even before we glimpse her Nine Inch Nails The Downward Spiral T-shirt and red-tinged, close-cropped hair.
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