There are gigs, and then there are events. Tonight was very much the latter, the kind where you leave feeling like a glitter-covered chaos demon has lightly possessed you.
Opening proceedings was Amelia Moore. Within minutes, it was clear this wasn’t going to be one of those support sets people politely ignore. She had the room locked in almost immediately. The songs landed well, sharp, catchy and emotionally messy in a way that fit the night perfectly, with big hooks, clean vocals and a confident presence that carried easily across the Academy. The set moved with purpose. No dragging moments. No sense of the crowd waiting for something else. By halfway through, the energy had noticeably lifted, and the audience response followed. Louder cheers. Real engagement. Proper attention. By the time she left the stage, Brixton felt genuinely warmed up, exactly what you want from an opener.
From the second the lights dropped, the room snapped. No gentle warm-up, no polite easing-in. Just a collective “Oh. It’s happening!” The crowd, a glorious cocktail of fishnets, platform boots, anime eyeliner, and chaotic energy, was already buzzing.
The whole stage leaned hard into a twisted Alice in Wonderland fever dream, a surreal, hyper-colourful, delicious storybook aesthetic. Ashnikko arrived, emerging through a tiny door built into the set like a chaotic pop Alice, bursting into a very loud, very sweaty Wonderland. Ashnikko herself looked like a cyberpunk cartoon villain who chose camp instead of evil. Pure feral pop-star energy. Her vocals were sharp, gritty and playful. She bounced between bratty rap cadences and huge, sugar-rush choruses like genre boundaries were a suggestion someone once made and she politely ignored.
Each track came to life hard, and the bass thumped right through your ribcage with synths buzzing like neon lights about to explode. Every lyric was shouted back with religious fervour, notably on the angrier, messier offerings. You could practically see people exorcising bad exes mid-chorus, and there’s something deeply satisfying about watching a room full of people collectively embrace their inner gremlin. Ashnikko’s whole vibe thrives in that space, sexy, ridiculous, furious, funny, but weirdly sincere. It’s pop music for people who want their glitter served with a wink and a side order of emotional damage. Visually, the show was a full sensory wonder with bright colours and that slightly dystopian rave aesthetic folded neatly into the Wonderland surrealism.
Underneath the theatrical insanity, there was a surprising warmth, and Ashnikko radiated that slightly awkward, genuinely grateful energy of someone who still can’t quite believe this is their job. Thankfully, it never tipped into “manufactured popstar” territory, more like your very talented, very chaotic friend who somehow ended up headlining Brixton. By the end, the Academy was a glorious mess of sweat, glitter, and blown-out vocal cords. Everyone leaving looked wrecked but ecstatic.
This evening was loud. Camp. Cathartic. Slightly deranged. Exactly what you want from an Ashnikko show.
Review & Photos By Rebecca Bush – https://www.instagram.com/beckybphoto/
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Amelia Moore Gallery
Ashnikko Gallery
