Stripped Down: British frontwoman takes on Brooklyn solo

Photo by Lauren Dalban

Porridge Radio’s Dana Margolin performs at Baby’s All Right in Brooklyn on a solo International tour.

Between the red curtains that greet the customers of Williamsburg venue ‘Baby’s All Right,’ past the dimly-lit booths and tables where patrons discuss their work days, and through the darkened doorway which leads onto the club’s small performance space, Dana Margolin, frontwoman of British indie band Porridge Radio, performed her set. 

Behind her, only the venue’s multicolored lights twinkled, barely illuminating her for the large audience that were now standing almost shoulder-to-shoulder — on stage, she was alone. 

Many of the songs that she performed late Wednesday evening were new, unreleased tracks. A song she performed early in the set oozed with melancholy. Making use of repetitive chord arrangements, and a lower register for Margolin, it drew the audience in, as though she were about to tell them a secret about herself. 

Margolin formed Porridge Radio in the English seaside town of Brighton — known for its vibrant city center and as a hub for young artists from across the country. This year, Margolin embarked on a solo US tour for the first time, performing in the biggest cities on each coast, accompanied only by her electric guitar and some custom socks she sells as merch. 

Bobby Burg of the musical duo ‘Love of Everything’ opened for Margolin. Though they operate in different genres, Burg and Margolin make use of hyper-realistic lyrics.

Burg’s style is reminiscent of an early nineties solo singer-songwriter genre where the performer essentially speaks to the audience in an unassuming nasally voice, with limited instrumental backing. 

It’s not for everyone. 

Margolin came on stage at 11 p.m., and the crowd cheered with excitement. She launched into the song ‘Lilac,’ from her 2021 album ‘Every Bad,’ which features constant, increasingly forceful repetition, offering the audience a jarring entrance into her set show. 

From the very beginning, the intensity of her performance seeped into the audience, leading one to ponder whether she could truly keep this fervor for her entire hour-long set. She could. 

Much of Margolin’s solo performance bleeds with desperation, she often screams into the mic, her eyes closed, her quick fingers warring with her guitar strings. Alone, her songs bring forward a sincere anguish that seems like it would be impossible to replicate with her full band, offering the audience a special look at her inner world. 

In many of Porridge Radio’s earlier albums, Margolin makes use of repetition in her lyrics.Her emotions and thoughts become unavoidable for her listeners. She did this in many of the new songs she offered to her Williamsburg audience. 

“I would do anything to see what I’m waiting for,” she sings over and over again, her voice trembling on the final word every time. She wants them to feel it, and they do.

Her set seemed to revolve around the core notion of homesickness, either for a person, place or feeling. Her singing voice is perpetually pained, teetering on the edge of some darkened abyss where her grief calls to her, begging her to jump.

Some of her songs feature a faster tempo, but any illusion of cheeriness is drowned out by Margolin’s hyper-realist, deeply depressing lyrics.

“I’m the god of everything else, you’re the god of losing me,” she sings. 

“I can’t tell you that I’m wasted on you,” in another song. 

Margolin is a gifted songwriter, and a skilled guitarist. But alone on stage, with none of the more lofi-tinged backing her band provides, her solo performance at times takes on the quality of a performance art piece with an audience of uncomfortable witnesses to her emotional journey. 

Despite this, Margolin’s stage presence oozes with a charming yet disarming sincerity. Her final three songs were suggestions from the crowd, reminding them that she is there for them as much as they are for her. 

One of the last songs, ‘Birthday Party,’ from the 2022 album ‘Waterslide, Diving Board, Ladder to the Sky,’ enraptured the audience as much as it might have with her full band. 

“I don’t want to be loved,” she shouts. 

The audience doesn't listen.