Live At Leeds: A Love Letter To Community
Leeds, UK | November 15th, 2025
Written by Anna Louise Jones
Admittedly, this was my first time at Live At Leeds: In The City. It’s been on my list for years, growing up in the North West, but somehow I’d never made the pilgrimage. And pilgrimage is the right word. For those unfamiliar, Live At Leeds is a one-day, multi-venue wander through the city’s musical underbelly. It’s part discovery trail, part love letter to grassroots spaces. I spent the day drifting between rooms that smelled faintly of beer mats, slipping through crowds, adding thousands of steps to my phone with the forty-minute hauls between stages. This year felt like it carried a rare sense of unity, as if the whole city had agreed to breathe in time for just one day.
Nxdia opened our day at The Wardrobe, 12:00 sharp. They broke through the soft murmur of a Saturday noon with crystalline precision: genre-blurring, glitter-edged, and impossibly clear for an indoor show. It felt like standing in a tent at golden hour, except we were in a packed concert hall. Fans and industry alike leaned in, surrendered, and cheered. Between songs, Nxdia offered stray gems: fun facts, flirty jokes, sharp-edged awareness, and the reminder that “it’s always free Palestine, free Congo, free Sudan – nobody’s free until we all are.” It was bold and bright, a set that felt like the festival flipping its lights on.
We slipped out during the final chorus to hurry across to Wapentake, seven minutes away, hoping to catch Dermot Henry from the start. The venue, a small pub that usually holds open mics and intimate shows, clearly showed an underestimate of his pull. The crowd swelled until furniture had to be pushed aside and the room became a soft, smiling crush of human sardines. With only one released song, his acoustic set felt like leafing through a private diary you weren’t meant to read but were grateful to have found. Even the people standing outside strained to catch a note. Warm vocals, quiet presence, tons of promise. It was the polar opposite of where we’d been fifteen minutes earlier, and we realised the day would be full of musical whiplash - the good kind.
Next came Belgrave Music Hall, where we planned to see FLETCHR FLETCHR and Girl Group. Weather chaos delayed FLETCHR FLETCHR’s travel by sixteen hours, pushing their slot to 23:00. We stayed anyway, grabbed a snack and a coffee close by, and settled in for Girl Group. And thank God we did. Girl Group are fast becoming a must-see in the UK scene - bright, buoyant, and shamelessly fun. They opened a cappella, voices locking together like clasped hands before a guitar burst through. Their set glittered: tight harmonies, punchy lyricism, playful choreography, and the kind of charisma that makes you know you’ve stumbled onto the next big thing. The group ended with their single ‘Yay Saturday!’, a homage to girlhood at its realist. Before leaving the stage, Lil called out for a free Palestine, free Congo, free Sudan, and “protect the dolls”. It was a reminder that their passion pushes past the music and out into the world, a world that they hope one day is as free and as inclusive as their shows feel.
We weren’t originally planning to stay for the following set, but after hearing Heidi Curtis' soundcheck, we knew we weren’t going anywhere. Channelling a soft-focus warmth similar to Daisy Jones & The Six with a hint of Fleetwood Mac’s glow, she was one of the day’s quiet miracles. ‘Some Things Feel Unfair’ opened the set in velvet tones, her drummer stitching seamless transitions between songs. She’s the kind of artist who catches you gently off guard and then refuses to leave your head. It came as a shock to us when we discovered she hadn’t released her first single yet. Her set was so sure & confident, she owned the stage. Her debut single drops on November 28th, and it can’t come soon enough.
A quick bus ride later, in hopes of avoiding the rain and the cold, we arrived at the Brudenell Social Club for Runo Plum. Fresh from the final show of their tour and recently arrived from the States, their set was soft and tender, melodies so fragile it felt like even breathing too loudly might crack them. Runo Plum just released their debut album, ‘Patching’, the day prior; it translated to a live performance beautifully. With a genius band behind them and gratitude threaded through every lyric, the room was left blinking a little softer, standing a little gentler. It was the wind-down we didn’t know we needed. The Man The Myth The Meatslab followed with warmth and humour, sharing memories of living in Leeds and dreaming of playing the Brudenell. Stripped-back, folk music isn’t what most would expect from an artist titling the word ‘Meatslab’ - it showcases a subtle humour and unique sense of artistry that feels brand-new. The writing and performance felt intimate: at one point, he unplugged his guitar entirely, relying on nothing but raw sound and audience trust. A small act, but a sincere one, and the room held it carefully.
The rain returned as we braved the 47-minute walk back to The Wardrobe for Man/Women/Chainsaw, a Dermot Henry recommendation - if Dermot says go, you go. Within seconds, it was clear why. Their set was a storm of genre-blurring power, anchored by a live electric violin that sliced straight through the noise. Heavy, gorgeous, and surprisingly tender beneath the chaos. It was a sound I’d never quite heard before, and the crowd knew it too. We tore ourselves away to catch Samxemma at Headrow House, eight minutes away. A half-full room felt instantly transformed into a sweaty, sparkling club night - think Charli XCX, Lorde and Maude Latour in a blender set to “euphoric.” Their energy was huge, dancing across the stage with laser focus. Samxemma is one to watch: maximalist, shimmering, irrepressible pop.
Staying put for Catty, we let her close our day with theatrical pop that glinted but never overreached. There was a shade of early Gaga in her presence, but the execution was wholly her own - big vocals, bold charisma, and a crowd pulled fully into her orbit. At that moment, we deeply regretted booking the 23:00 coach home. We weren’t ready to leave.
In the end, Live At Leeds: In The City felt like a love letter to the community - to turning up early, squeezing into hot rooms still wet from the rain outside, stumbling onto new artists with strangers who feel like temporary kin. Each venue carved out its own little world, and each artist allowed the freedom to be fully themselves. It was a day spent wandering, listening and remembering that live music is, at its core, a collective act. Leeds, once again, proved it’s one of the UK’s brightest maps for discovering what comes next.
