Paris Paloma Awakens The Ford With An Earthshaking Set
Los Angeles, California - September 22, 2026
A Midsummer’s Eve overtook The Ford for Paris Paloma’s Los Angeles stop on THE FATAL FLAW Tour. The British singer-songwriter is no stranger to expansive world-building in her music, kindly welcoming her listeners into a universe of beautiful belonging and unity. Across the outdoor amphitheater, a wide array of ages shuffled to their seats, all donning flower crowns and sweeping skirts as if wearing an unspoken uniform. Looming over center stage is a towering wooden tree inspired by Colquhoun’s Diagrams of Love, which is found on the cover of Paloma’s latest record, The Fatal Flaw.
After her breakthrough single, “Labour,” garnered billions of listens on Spotify alone back in 2023, the singer remains a tenacious voice for female liberty and autonomy in her songwriting and on social platforms. While her debut album, Cacophony, turned heads with its compelling lyricism and grandiose melodies, The Fatal Flaw arrives with bloody hands amidst the search for love in all the right and wrong places, infusing striking imagery of Greek mythology in its storytelling.
Thumping drums follow the cadence of a heartbeat in “Stem the Flow,” which quickly becomes the summoning chant for the crowd’s matriarchal leader. Paloma’s billowing dress floats onto the stage, sending everyone to their feet as if on cue. She sings its opening lines as a raw confessional: “I don’t think you ever loved me / And I have to believe that now / Cause otherwise I’ll look for love like yours.”
Palpable, righteous fury and spellbinding lyricism guide the next hour, as moms and daughters, lovers, and close friends lean on each other’s shoulders, dance hand-in-hand, and sing every word in passionate unison.
A captivatingly charged “Rothko” takes shape out of Paloma’s rich love for art history. “I became absolutely enraptured by this story that Mark Rothko paintings are enormous and tortured and immensely beautiful, and [that] people sometimes cry when they’re standing in front of them,” she explains. But, at the core of every Paloma piece is an inherent fascination with humanity, and how art mirrors the way she experiences the world: “I went to an art gallery and saw a Rothko for the first time, and I didn’t cry. The melodramatic 17-year-old that I was, I stood in front of it trying to make myself cry. And when I was 23, I broke up with somebody, and I was reminded of that same feeling, trying to stand in front of something trying to make yourself feel something you don’t.” A cathartic composition of battering drums and rumbling guitars echoes through the venue as Paloma’s outcry for emotion shakes the surrounding trees.
Following each transition is a well-articulated monologue that is palpably sincere and altruistic, a testament to the core of who Paloma is. “Pyrrhus” recounts the haunting tale of Pyrrhus, the son of Achilles. “I wrote it about the grief of watching gentle, kind, and empathetic boys that you knew sort of be transformed and seduced by the patriarchy and rewarded by toxic masculinity,” she shares about the track.“In some ways it’s very ancient, but in some ways it’s not ancient at all, and it’s incredibly real.” Bone-chilling guitars swell into a commanding chorus insistent for answers: “Do you hear the screams, Pyrrhus? Do you hear the screams? / Hector's babe you killed, Pyrrhus, is he in your dreams?”
“Good Boy” digs the knife deeper with glaring lyrics about the modern-day elite: “I knew one day I’d have to watch powerful men burn the world down,” booms Emma Thompson’s voice in the track’s intro, a nod to writer Rebecca Shaw’s famous line.
In light of the rise of AI, the singer’s track, “Miyazaki,” recenters human individuality with command: “I wrote [Miyazaki] about artists, I wrote it about being an artist, I wrote it about art, and I wrote it about how much I fucking hate AI,” she exclaims to the crowd who erupts in cheers. “All generated AI does is take all of the things that could’ve been unique and interesting, and any given person who, with their specific brain chemistry and life experience, could’ve made something that nobody else on this earth could’ve made.” Soaring synths feel sacred as Paloma’s defiance seethes through the mic: “Please don’t ever take it from me.”
No shortage of movement lives in Paloma’s artistry. Before “Good Girl,” she refuses to hand over her self-worth to destructive, patriarchal hands: “I’m tired of it being the first weapon that misogynistic men reach for when they want to devalue what I’m saying. They never unpick my argument; they just call out the fact that I have armpit hair,” she says. Instead, she beckons the audience to linger in the present moment: “I wrote this with the intention of it being something that people could move to for five minutes and feel safe and free and joyful in their body just as it is right now.”
Closing out the night is the release of “Labour’s” pent-up rage. It’s where Paloma shines best –– at the frontlines of empowering advocacy that demands full attention. A sea of voices join in on the chorus’ war cry like roaring flames, a powerfully communal experience that burns down ideas of female subjugation.
Paloma is an undoubtable force to be reckoned with. Her inherent desire to explore conflicting feelings and gender nuances creates a listening experience that proves riveting and timeless.
Paloma will be touring until December. Be sure to catch a show; tickets here.
