chloe moriondo @ King Tut's, Glasgow, 21 Sep

The weight of chloe moriondo's songwriting comes through loud and clear as she commands the King Tut's stage without losing the bedroom spirit that started it all

Live Review by Tara Hepburn | 25 Sep 2025
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chloe moriondo first emerged singing ukulele covers on YouTube, a sweet but limiting canvas that she quickly outgrew. Since then, she's shifted to original material, and her latest album Oyster is an intriguing aquatic-themed breakup record full of left-field pop experiments and punkier bursts of headbanging release. On record, the emotional punch of these songs can sometimes be obscured by overproduction. But at King Tut’s, supported by a live band, the weight of moriondo’s songwriting comes through loud and clear.

The show kicks off with abyss and Celebrity, a high-energy one-two punch that's nearly drowned out by the volume of the crowd. What sets the night apart is the devotion of the audience, with many arriving early, some with handmade gifts for moriondo, and with a collective determination to sing along to every word of the 70-minute set.

On stage, moriondo is a theatrical performer, with a real pageantry to her stagecraft: balletic poses, prowling the small stage, climbing up on the amps and leaning forward towards the audience. At times, this cartoonish exaggeration almost feels like armour. During quieter moments of the show there’s a charming awkwardness to moriondo. “Can I be sad for a little while?” she asks, before launching into pond, surely the saddest song in her discography.

These shifts in mood shape the evening. She offers a delicate cover of Mitski’s Liquid Smooth, whille later, her gloriously silly recent single girls with gills lands with the force of a long-established favourite. Older staples like Bodybag and Manta Rays serve as a reminder that moriondo’s gift for sharp, bittersweet singalong choruses has been there from the very start. At one point she asks, “is anyone here gay?” which almost garners the biggest cheer of the evening. However, that accolade is reserved for the introduction of 'Kitty', moriondo’s pink sticker-covered electric guitar – a star in its own right.

Closing her set with I Want to Be With You, the joyful, Paramore-inflected anthem gives the Tut’s crowd one last euphoric singalong. moriondo might have begun her career as a shy teenager online, but here she proves herself more than capable of commanding a stage, without losing the bedroom spirit that started it all.

http://chloemoriondo.com