Grandiose and unapologetic, EMEI has the vibe of the cool kid at school who looks intimidating but is fiercely protective over her friends. The black leather corset-tutu combo and white sheer stockings with a bow capture her edginess and her femininity.
Accompanied by Eric McCoy on guitar and Max Meizlish on drums, her Night at the Opera tour is part celebration and part confession. Even though she feels “Late to the Party,” she turns her show into a party for her supporters. There are backup dancers in masks, she’s jumping around with huge smiles without a care in the world, and she gets the whole audience to sing “Happy Birthday” to several lucky fans. There are also huge plastic bouncy balls later in the show that she tries to give away before realizing they won’t fit in the crowded audience section.
But it’s not all fun and games here. In the hyperpop earworm “Irresponsible,” she admits that she feels like “I never grew up, and it’s mortifying / Why am I so irresponsible?” before launching into the cavalier “La-la-la-la-la, la-la la la la la.” She conducts the crowd in the “la-la-las” and commands a couple moments of silence, a rare feat in a pop concert. “I’m emotional and dramatic and have anger issues. Sometimes I just want to hit something”, EMEI admits, striding over to the drumset. She picks up a drum stick and does a fun little combo with Meizlish, epitomizing this line in “Night at the Opera”: “I hope my suffering will sell some tickets in the mezzanine.” For EMEI, turning her hard feelings into songs is basically therapy (and it pay the bills!).
In “That Girl,” which sounds like a homage to 2000s pop-punk, she vents about being “that girl who tries like / Way too damn hard” instead of the one who is effortlessly perfect. To the audience however, we only see her perfect stage image. She is absolutely “That Girl,” but she decides to bare her heart and be honest about her flaws. Several of her songs started as diary entries, which is why they feel so raw, real, and relatable. There’s insecurity, frustration, pettiness, and adolescent angst, but also desire, protectiveness, and glimmers of self-love. Even though many of the topics that inspired the songs are most relatable to the high school- and college-aged crowd, the underlying themes are relevant to audiences of all ages. The song that encapsulates both doubt and hope is “BLOOM,” a smooth track with ethereal harmonies in the pre-chorus. “How can I keep up the grace and still face it with all the changes?” she wonders, eyes searching the crowd, as if she will find an answer there.
Fully embracing energy of the confessional, EMEI disappears from the stage and reappears in back of the venue to sit on the stairs leading to the balcony. “Dear Emily” is a beautiful, albeit desperate, plea to herself to “let me be, God, I’m so tired.” The instrumentals would fit in a lullaby, but the calming atmosphere doesn’t take away from the frustration and self-criticism of the sonic equivalent of a late-night spiral session. “I’ve always been the most emotional in my family–shoutout to Chinese immigrant parents–but my grandma always gave me permission to be myself,” she shares, prefacing her next song, which is dedicated to loved ones who have passed. It’s a cover of “甜蜜蜜 (Sweet honey),” originally sung by Taiwanese pop star Teresa Teng, that she segues into the bittersweet “Ginger Tea.” It’s an oasis of introspection amidst an otherwise high-energy evening.
A crowd favorite is “Scatterbrain,” a song from the show Off Campus filled with sparkly sound effects, a groovy bassline, and a head-bopping hook. She then performs an unreleased song about times when life is great for a bit but then suddenly takes a turn for the worse. The track is a jilted waltz, but it’s also an angsty, electro rock number, representing the unpredictable ups and downs of life. The dancers move like marionette puppets, jerked around by invisible strings. Maybe we are all just puppets in the show of life? But the show is about more than coping with the vicissitudes of life. It’s also about lifting each other up. She leads a group affirmation for a lucky front-row fan, and she expresses her gratitude for her fans so many times in the show. There’s also a part where her backup dancers run out of energy, and she leads the audience in a cheer to affirm our appreciation for them.
EMEI’s versatility spans genres; one moment she’s crooning like a jazz singer, the next she’s sing-shouting at the top of her lungs, and the next she’s pleading with a soft, breathy voice. She’s sassy and dramatic but also unafraid to showcase vulnerable truths, which culminates in a delightfully cathartic show experience.
