Gig Review: Kelly Lee Owens At Marble Factory

Kelly Lee Owens and Miso Extra prove why venues like The Marble Factory must never fall silent.

I arrived at the Marble Factory’s gates to see the stone walls of this celebrated venue shake. Inside and already on-stage was Miso Extra, the Hong Kong-born artist known for her synth-led house music, performing tracks from her upcoming release, Earcandy. The bass was so vivid, and the volume so extreme that I genuinely believed I could see the exterior’s mortar vibrate.

Inside, the dancefloor was already full. Miso sang and stepped across the stage, layering her bubblegum vocals across electronic lows, grinning with earnest as she hopped between her MIDI pads to switch up a new melody or acidic splash, all as the rotating glamour of her own name shone in the background. It was impossible not to be charmed. 

Miso went beyond warming up the crowd and managed to shake the stillness of attendees into a real movement. Each build and drop was met with cheer, and her conversational intervals were, despite a laconic cool, punctuated with whistles and applause. It was wholly apparent that the room was ready for something special. 

There was only a brief respite between Miso Extra and Kelly Lee Owens. Enough time for the few pieces of equipment Miso utilised during her performance to be wheeled off as Owens’ two lone modules were placed in the centre. Even in the stylised darkness of the stage, it was clear that this was a distinctly refined set up. Two small tables that faced inward with a single, central microphone stand; enough space for a single performer between them. The rest of the stage was dedicated to lights, boxes that framed the centre space and drew the audience’s gaze to the pitch-black backdrop of the performance space.

After a few moments more of silence, a fissured note played and the stage was illuminated entirely in white for a sudden, extreme flash. I instinctively blinked and, as I did, I saw the outline of the stage and its equipment scorched into my retinas, right down to the shape of the microphone stand. It was then Kelly Lee Owens walked on stage, decorated in lurid blue feather accessories, and the crowd went wild. 

Owens opened with the title track of her latest album, Dreamstate. Messages of euphoria raced across the screen as alternating lights hypnotised the venue. It’s hard to overstate how brilliant, in the most fundamental sense of the word, the lighting design was. The room’s atmosphere was entirely commanded by the strike of every strobe and the glow of every colour. The detailed consideration of the visuals became even more apparent as Owens’ face was kept continuously obscure. Not once did a spotlight showcase her features and, the brief and single moment it did, Owens’ choreography already had her hands in place to deflect everyone’s view.

Throughout the performance, the crowd were enthralled. Owens effortlessly drifted between Wipeout-esque pacing and heavenly refrains. There wasn’t a moment of error that might allow attention to waver. Between her angelic vocals, dominating drums, glittering ambience, and the repeated lyrical notion of elevation, the entire experience even felt quickly spiritual, with Owens’ steering the room through her journey of electronic elation while crucified as a silhouette between her two controllers. 

The religious imagery of the club is one often drawn by those who celebrate dance music, especially those who witnessed the early years of the club experience. Venues were churches, performers the priests. Club-goers like church-goers entering the venue with the intention of experience beyond the mundane. 

Owens’ music is layered with phonic throwbacks to such early and devotional electronic scenes, so it makes sense that her show would echo the same experience of shared euphoria, one that saw the evening’s crowd stirred into total rapture. 

Perhaps much of my sentimentality for the performance was affected by the knowledge of the Marble Factory’s uncertain future. How can one not feel extraordinarily determined to have such an immense experience knowing that the opportunity to do so, specifically in such celebrated venues, is becoming more scarce.

It’s a consideration common to many. Even, it seems, Owens, who ended her performance, allowing herself to be fully illuminated for the first time, and, following an extensive applause from the crowd, spoke about her appreciation of the event and, notably, The Marble Factory as a venue.

“We need to protect our small venues. If we don’t, they will take away our culture,” Owens said.

It was a sign-off that vindicated the entire experience, as demonstrated by the erupting noise of the room. 

Owens is assuredly one of the most talented contemporary electronic artists, equipped to both elevate and mesmerise the dancefloor, and her show that evening was the best evidence that the stone integrity of such buildings, such venues, should welcome every opportunity to be visibly shaken. Especially so when the alternative is for them to gather dust.