These past two years have seen the meteoric rise of Chinese-Icelandic artist Laufey (pronounced Lay-vay): between winning a Grammy and having her second album, Bewitched, break Spotify’s jazz records with a whopping 5.7 million streams on release day, the star has spent this year trotting across the globe as part of the Goddess tour. As I make my way up a few fleets of stairs into the Concert Hall for what is the second last show of the Goddess tour, passing a never-ending line of people waiting to buy her merchandise – I know in my bones that Laufey has a special night in store for all of us at the Sydney Opera House. 

I am with my best friend, Melody, who is probably as excited for Laufey to play at the Sydney Opera House as Laufey herself, if not more. Having seen her at the Oxford Art Factory amongst a few hundred people in June last year when she was arguably still a cult act, Melody’s emotions run (understandably) high at the thought of Laufey playing an iconic venue of thousands in just a year. As we settle into our seats, I notice little to no props on stage. Other than a backdrop of small round lights eagerly waiting to be lit up, some heat lamps, and a few chairs for her seven-piece band, the dusty pink mist that swirls around the grand piano and cello does most of the work to create an ambience.

When Laufey emerges on stage in a puff-sleeved white Abodi dress, what I learn for the next hour and a half is this: she doesn’t need an elaborate set design nor extensive choreography to keep a room full of people entertained. Her stage presence and honeyed vocals alone keep her audience sitting on the edge of their seats, eagerly watching her every move. Music is what Laufey has her eyes set on after all, and her devotion to it is spotlighted early on in the night through the dazzling piano arrangements in songs like Let You Break My Heart Again and California and Me.

As she strips these songs down to their bare bones, with nothing but her soothing voice and a piano to execute them, I realise that digital and physical recordings do Laufey’s range and emotionality an injustice. She honours the essence of music as an artist, proving just how little is needed to weave together an affecting performance if one has the chops for it. 

Laufey takes on a pop-star persona when she briefly interacts with the crowd. These interactions are scattered carefully across her set, making for unforgettable moments when they do happen. She meditates on anecdotes that have inspired her repertoire of poignant ballads, one of them being Beautiful Stranger. Punters are transported instantly to present-day London, where we witness the minutiae interaction that occurs between Laufey and a TDH (tall, dark, and handsome) stranger on the tube before she gets off at Ladbroke Grove.

“I swear I’m not delusional,” Laufey jokes.

Despite being a few oceans away from London, Laufey’s storytelling makes the rumble of the tube and buzzing of conversations between strangers feel palpable. What I find enchanting about Laufey is the attention she dedicates to the small moments of wanderlust that would otherwise pass us by, and lucky for us, they are now archived in records for listeners to revisit and resonate with. In Laufey’s world, she encounters these sublime moments on a mundane day in November (Lovesick), in a tiny apartment above a Chinese restaurant (Above the Chinese Restaurant) or in a low-lit room where one may feel haunted by a past lover (Haunted). 

When Laufey begins to play Like the Movies on the piano, I ponder if this song is ultimately her artistic statement. Just like the rest of us, she muses about falling in love in a bookstore and wonders why no one’s ever good enough for her. She continues to work through her daydreams while reaching for a greater understanding of what love is on her albums, Everything I Know About Love and Bewitched – except on Bewitched, she is at her most self-assured in both her music and quirks. She prances across the stage while crooning the lyrics of Dreamer: “You can’t pin me down / I fear all solid ground / I’d rather be alone at tea.” Laufey’s found a cloud up by the Milky Way to live on, and to my delight, she might just camp there forever. 

The crowd is lulled into silence as Laufey is cocooned in a flow state when she plays the Nocturne interlude that comes straight after Like the Movies. With each chord she plays, her shoulder begins to relax even more; her touch at the piano firmer. Basked in only soft golden light, this audience knows better than to intrude on what feels like a sacred moment, so what ensues across the room is a stillness that makes the gentle hum of the air conditioners all the more potent – a memorable sight that only someone as enigmatic as Laufey can command. 

The standout song of the night for me is Goddess, a hauntingly beautiful song in which Laufey is at her most confessional: “You took a star to bed, woke up with me instead.” When Laufey’s voice soars in the bridge of Goddess, it sends a chill down my spine. Her voice pierces through my heart, displaying an authenticity akin to the rawness that Taylor Swift exudes in the heart-wrenching Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve, and in both instances, this pain can only be channelled and felt by women who have suffered the injustice of a stolen girlhood.

Despite embodying the flair and finesse of one, Laufey admits to being only human in the lyrics of Goddess, despite appearing as “a goddess on stage”. Her firm separation of these identities makes her a breath of fresh air in an otherwise polished and glamorous world. This is evident in the glimpses we get of Laufey’s personality throughout the night, especially when she makes small talk about the hardships and emotions that make all of us the same.

Her wit is tactile during the show, having perfectly mastered the balance between knowing when to provide comedic relief and when to be earnest. Before pirouetting into Promise, which breathlessly details the agony of an undefined romantic affair, or what Gen Z calls a ‘situationship’, Laufey banters with a sea of people draped in midi dresses, lace, and white bows, visibly of different backgrounds and ages.

“Fortunately for you, I’ve been there and I’ve written songs about it so I get to play them on tour, which brings us here!” she quips. 

Laughter ripples through the crowd but at the end of the heavy-hearted song, fans yell out, “We love you Laufey!” It was then that I learnt just how precious she is to her audience, most of whom I presume have experienced first-hand the guttural pain of the lines “It hurts to be something / It’s worse to be nothing with you” and are quick to reaffirm her that she is loved beyond measure as a result.

My theory is confirmed when the crowd’s loudest reaction of the night is to the line, “She’s so perfect, blah, blah, blah” in From The Start, which sees Laufey lament about the heartbreak of listening to an unrequited lover harp on their new soulmate. At the start of the song, she sincerely thanks her fans for showing up to the Goddess Tour, which she calls a “whirlwind” in this “insane year”. Laufey’s twin sister, Junia, then surprises fans by joining in on the performance with a violin, showing up in a pair of light-blue velvet pyjamas with feathered trims. 

As Laufey closes the show with Letter To My 13 Year Old Self as the final encore, I can’t help but feel emotional when she confesses she “didn’t think I [she] would be able to do all these things” and encourages the crowd to “chase your [our] silly little dreams because you never really know”. As I watch the young girls around me gently wipe their tears away from their faces (while I do the same), I still remember who I was at 13, living in what felt like the wrong skin, wearing a set of crooked teeth I was desperate to straighten, and harbouring a lingering sense of dreadfulness for the future – it’s helpful to know at that age that things do get exponentially better, and Laufey is most equipped to share the good news. After all, she is living proof that little girls who feel out of place and bury themselves in a piano can grow up to do extraordinary things.

Laufey may be at the end of the Goddess tour, but she’s just getting started, even teasing a new album during the second Sydney show at the ICC. If her new music is even half as heartfelt as Everything I Know About Love or Bewitched, I know for certain that the world will continue to meet her halfway.