Howden, Yorkshire-hailing Fiona-Lee returns to the Barfly, London on Tuesday 2nd September 2026 for the second of two consecutive nights supporting Violet Grohl, and tonight she looks increasingly at home on a stage that she has already made her own. Alone with an electric guitar, she delivers a striking solo performance that balances vulnerability, humour and a raw, unfiltered intensity.
Fiona-Lee @ Barfly
The contrast with the previous evening is immediately apparent. Fiona-Lee jokes that supporting Violet the night before is “so fucking chaotic”, but tonight is already going better. There is no band behind her, something she openly admits feels strange after a summer spent playing festivals with her usual lineup. “I normally play with the band, so I feel a bit lonely, actually, without them,” she says, before adding that she feels “very grateful to be doing this.”
That sense of openness runs through the entire performance.
She begins with One Hell Of A Tightrope, a song that establishes the emotional tension at the heart of her writing. Her electric guitar provides the entire musical framework, leaving her voice exposed as the lyrics move through uncertainty, self-doubt and the difficulty of holding on to sincerity. Even in the stripped-back setting, there is a sense that these songs are designed to become much bigger once the full band returns.
The same is true of the previously unreleased When My Dog Bit Me, which Fiona-Lee introduces with a laugh before explaining that the dog in question never actually bit her. “It’s like a metaphor,” she tells the room, before revealing that the song is actually “really sad”. The explanation becomes part of the charm: she is willing to puncture the seriousness of her own material, only to immediately return to its emotional core.
Through It All follows, and Fiona-Lee warns the audience that the song is supposed to feature “a big saxophone solo”. With no saxophonist present, she asks everyone to imagine it and promises to provide the necessary “woos” herself. It is a typically disarming moment, but the song itself carries considerably more weight, circling grief, frustration and the exhausting process of recognising when it is time to leave things behind.
The intimacy deepens with Victim, which she describes as being about people who “get away with everything by, like, acting like the victim”. Delivered with considerable bite, it allows the sharper side of Fiona-Lee’s personality to emerge. Her guitar playing remains controlled while the lyrics become increasingly confrontational, turning personal frustration into something that feels cathartic rather than merely confessional.
There is also plenty of warmth between the songs. Fiona-Lee asks the room whether everyone is excited to see Violet, calling the headliner “fucking well cool” and “a proper rock star”. She recalls meeting Violet’s father the previous night and sending a photograph to her own family, only for her dad to respond with a decidedly understated “cool”.
“Are you fucking kidding, dad?” she laughs. “You might as well just send a thumbs up.” It is exactly the kind of interaction that makes the performance feel less like a conventional support slot and more like an artist inviting the room into her world.
Not My Friend, released on an EP earlier in the year, shifts the mood again. Fiona-Lee’s performance carries a bruised intimacy as the song explores loneliness, emotional dependence and the difficulty of allowing somebody close enough to see behind the façade. The sparse arrangement puts the emphasis firmly on her voice and guitar, and the absence of a full band only heightens the song’s vulnerability.
By the time she reaches The Balance, the performance has become something more personal still. Fiona-Lee explains that she writes the song after learning that her nana does not have long left to live. The experience puts everything into perspective, prompting her to reconsider where she wants to be and what home means to her.
Living in London at the time, she travels back north to see her nana and realises, simply, “that’s where I belong.” That revelation gives the song its emotional centre. The Balance is not simply about grief but about the way grief can rearrange priorities, forcing a person to reconsider the life they have built and the places and people that matter most. In the confines of the Barfly, played entirely by Fiona-Lee, it becomes one of the night’s most affecting moments.
She closes with Mother, the first song she ever releases and perhaps the most difficult piece of the set to introduce. Fiona-Lee explains that she writes it at 18, shortly after moving to London while being managed by someone who has her living in the basement of his office. “That’s all I can say,” she adds, allowing the understatement to carry its own weight.
The song itself needs no further explanation. Fiona-Lee’s voice moves through fear, isolation and the desperate desire to escape, while the electric guitar keeps the arrangement stark and exposed. She has already joked about the dramatic ending going wrong the previous night, when a fan’s reaction breaks her concentration and sends her into laughter. Tonight, though, the moment lands.
Before playing the final notes, she thanks the audience and Violet Grohl for inviting her to play both nights. After two evenings at the Barfly, the performance feels like more than a support slot. Fiona-Lee demonstrates that she can command a room alone, without the safety net of a full band, while retaining the humour and personality that make the quieter moments hit harder.
For an artist still building her catalogue, these two nights offer a compelling glimpse of what comes next. Fiona-Lee leaves the stage having shared songs that are deeply personal without ever becoming precious, finding space for laughter alongside grief, anger alongside tenderness, and vulnerability alongside an unmistakable sense of self.
Live review and photography of Fiona-Lee @ Barfly, London by Kalpesh Patel on 2nd September 2026.
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