Celeste Stirs the Soul at the Brudenell in Leeds.

Words and Photos – John Hayhurst

A hushed but profoundly moving one-hour set from soul-songstress Celeste transforms Leeds’s intimate Brudenell Social Club into a chamber of emotional revelation.

When Celeste emerged from a side-door at the Brudenell Social Club and climbed small steps in the centre of the floor, the room held its breath. Dim lighting barely lit her silhouette – even the emergency exit signs and bar lighting punched through the gloom – and with just a piano and a three-person string section behind her on the stage, the set promised understatement, and delivered ravishment.

She kicked off with an unreleased track, “When Dreams Are Made of Gold”, the lightest backing imaginable allowing her voice full reign. Every phrase hung in the air, each sustained note floating above the hush of the room. From there the early set moved through “This Is Who I Am”, “Lately”, “Everyday” and “Happening Again”. The pacing felt deliberate but not ponderous — each song built on the last, string textures weaving in under her natural control.

Yet there was regret: If you queued early like me to be front and centre, the viewing experience was frustrating because unless she turned around, we mostly saw her back view. The sense of proximity was real though, and her voice was nothing but perfection throughout. What you lost in clear sight you gained in a shared space, like you were part of the performance rather than spectator.

Mid-set she paused and asked us for song choices; with no backing band beyond piano and strings she ran into a cappella versions of a partial “Hear My Voice”, “Tonight Tonight” and “Father’s Son”. These moments were spell-binding: she stripped away all ornament and stood raw, voice alone filling the room. On “Father’s Son” she forgot the words mid-verse, laughed and tried to carry on — a humanising gesture that punctured any notion of untouchable star-ness. Instead, she spoke fondly of crafting songs in Leeds, with heartfelt explanations behind tracks such as “Time Will Tell”, joking with the close few who kept nervously eyeing her steps as though she might tumble off them mid-note.

From there she moved into “Both Sides of the Moon”, before the set’s final run of “Keep Smiling” and “Woman of Faces”. That title-track from the new album stood out: majestic, controlled, emotionally unbound. She finished with the incomparable “Strange” and wandered off to the backstage exit, never once actually stepping foot on the stage.

What struck most was her voice. It soared, whispered, cracked, commanded — and took you somewhere unexpected. Comparisons are lazy but unavoidable: she stood alongside the great emotional soul singers, drawing ink from the wells of Nina Simone or Aretha Franklin, and yet felt entirely in her own territory. It’s cathartic when you’re just a handful of feet away and you can hear each inflection.

In a world of big stages and exploding visuals, this show was quietly radical. No big production, no encore, no bells and whistles. Just Celeste, her voice, a piano, strings, and a room that listened.