Paris Paloma arrives at The Barbican, York on February 19 with more than a setlist in tow. She brings a gathering. Not content with a night off from supporting Florence + The Machine, the Derbyshire artist has squeezed in a headliner of her own between the London and Manchester arena shows.
Her songs have always felt less like performances and more like rites – folk-rooted works that pull old myths into sharp current focus – a modern glow on old bones. Against the electronic thrum, melodies bloom slowly and then hit with a quiet power. Paloma is a writer that knows the power of restraint, and exactly when to let it crack.
But what truly sets a Paris Paloma show apart is the space she creates. In the crowd, strangers soften into an impromptu family; voices rise together, not to drown anything out, but to hold it. There’s a collective exhale in her choruses, shared emotion, alongside the book swaps, handwritten notes and fairy messages.
At The Barbican, that sense of communion should feel especially potent. Paloma’s work thrives in rooms where listening matters, where silence is as charged as sound, and every lyric lands with deliberate placement. Expect moments of stillness, moments of swell, and a roomful of people leaving a little more connected than when they arrived.
Come for the songs. Stay for the feeling that you’ve been part of something briefly, beautifully shared.
There are still a handful of tickets available, so don’t miss it.
