49. Chvrches

The Forum

14 March 2014

Flash forward ten years from this gig, in 2024, and I find myself in a crowd of twenty thousand at the O2, bathed in the polite LED glow of phone torches, watching London Grammar be all majestic. But the real plot twist? Lauren Mayberry, yes, that Lauren Mayberry, the pint-sized Glaswegian fireball, synth-pop priestess and occasional Twitter flamethrower, is on stage as the support act. Let that sink in.

In 2014, suggesting Chvrches would open for anyone, let alone London Grammar, would’ve sounded as ludicrous as Liam Gallagher handing out vegan tapas. Back then, Chvrches were the indie messiahs-elect. Their debut album had more hooks than a fisherman’s shed and buzz louder than a wasp in a tin of Red Bull. They were adored. Anointed. Millennials had opinions about them on Tumblr. It was serious.

They were good. Lauren, all five-foot-and-change of caffeinated defiance, sang like a banshee with righteous fury. That night Chvrches owned the room. “The Mother We Share” hit like a taser, and “Gun” fired straight into the feels. Lauren ricocheted across the stage like a glittery pinball, her voice a hurricane. It was glorious.

But here's the rub. As fantastic as they were, they were never quite stadium material. They had the tunes, the talent and the charisma, but not those songs. Not the ones that make twenty thousand people collectively weep into their overpriced ciders whilst holding their phones aloft.

Chvrches stayed hot, just never volcanic. They were the synth-pop darlings of a certain time, a certain vibe. But while they soundtracked a generation’s getting ready to go out playlist, London Grammar quietly built a catalogue of cinematic, stadium-slaying tearjerkers. The kind of songs that don’t slap you in the face, they slide a gloved hand under your chin and whisper “feel this” into your soul.

None of this is to say Chvrches didn’t leave a mark. Lauren Mayberry remains a whip-smart, whirlwind front-woman. “The Mother We Share” and “Gun?” All-timers. National treasures. But filling arenas? That’s a different magic trick.

Some bands soar to the summit. Others write the soundtrack for their ascent.