Prima Queen were the last act of independent venue week, and they ensured that the week of celebrations went out with a bang. They entered to a crowd of eager fans, shoulder-to-shoulder, armed and slightly rowdy from the discounted Neck Oil (Beavertown are the greatest sponsors!). The bubbly energy was mellowed by their beginnings; a drone of ambient noise. Their first song is quiet, layered with subtle harmonies. To begin so quiet– to demand such keen attention from a restless crowd– it’s a bold move, and executed spectacularly. “Hey Birmingham,” says Kristin McFadden, gently, and smiles right at us.
You’d be forgiven for thinking Prima Queen are a standard indie band. They’re adept at the crowdpleasers; they’re snappy, energetic, bright, playful. But from the outset, it’s clear they’re pushing all the conventions. Kristin McFadden moved from Chicago to study in London, where she met Bristolian Louise MacPhail, connecting over thousands of miles against all odds. Their wonderful dynamic lights up the set. At all points, they bounce off one another, with one typically leading in vocals while the other leads in guitar. They swap, allowing both their styles to shine. McFadden begins with a warmth and earnestness. Her style reminds me somewhat of Joni Mitchell, with a thoughtful yet accessible lyricism and an understated yet upbeat melancholy. MacPhail takes over the vocals with nonchalant banger Chew My Cheeks. She’s more direct, reminiscent of a similar caliber of indie bands like Lime Garden. Throughout, the pair harmonise, swap around, and sing to one another just as much as they sing to the audience. At all points, it’s a collaborative effort, ever-changing. Their third member, Heledd Owen, is a fantastic drummer, whose subtlety and precision brings an electricity to the sound. Her steady beat powers them through the first few tracks, and here each of them demonstrate their status as masterful instrumentalists. Through deft and complex riffs, they careen through an energetic set.
Here, the music takes a stylistic turn. “This song’s a bit different. It’s called Butter Knife”, says MacPhail. It’s a simply beautiful track, a tribute to her aunt who had Alzhiemer’s. MacPhail doesn’t sing but speaks, and it’s painfully real, with lyrics like “it was your funeral today and no one could go because of coronavirus”, openly exploring the dissonance of grief during Covid. It’s an experience many of us can relate to. The simplicity of this track lets the lyrics shine; MacPhail speaks over a violin, stating experience, drawing poetic connections. At one point, she pauses; “I just forgot the words… because I was thinking about it.” It’s a feat of vulnerability and courage, to immortalise this story of a loved one, and I greatly admire her. The violin soars, and they harmonise again.
Hereafter, the wonderful Owen leaves the duo to their magic. “Let’s see how we get on without her”, McFadden jokes, and begins the achingly sweet Back Row. This romantic lament draws out the angstier tones, in a fuzzy guitar refrain and a vulnerable frustration in McFadden’s vocal. To answer her question; they get on great just the two of them, making the absolute most of the rest of their set time. Sunshine Song is a highlight, which they advertise as an excellent remedy for when everything is bad. The jangly rhythms and plucked guitar reverberate off the basement walls, filling the darkness with true sunshine energy.
Excellent new track, Oats (Ain’t Gonna Beg), is accompanied by a cowbell. It’s an instant call to boogie, McFadden punctuating her performance with a sassy eye roll– she ain’t gonna beg!! I adore the direction of their new music; it’s a little looser, really showcasing their individuality. The freshness and the unabashed fun make this my favourite track of the night.
Their final track is introduced with a simple piece of life advice– “don’t let people forget you’re the prize.” The Prize, titular track of their 2025 album, explores this simple notion through acts of mutual uplifting. First, they sing the refrain ‘you’re a diamond you’re the dream you’re a peach the prize’ to each other, defiant, sweet, and then they turn out and sing to us. With bold instrumentation elevating their precise harmonies, it’s one delicate chemistry experiment coming together and creating an explosion. Their knack for indie belters certainly helps, but really, the night’s atmosphere is cultivated through their sheer joy, at being onstage, together.
The night never ends immediately; that’s the joy of places like the Sunflower Lounge, how it carries the collective feeling into the night, where you’ll often find the acts themselves loitering by the merch stand or the bar. It’s independent venues that made us a band, they say, and when I speak to them after it’s with reverence and gratitude they cite London legends like the Windmill. It’s the small details that define a place, and the people that make it happen. That deserves celebration and support. I’m confident that the duo have an exciting future ahead; a future that they openly, proudly attribute to the opportunities afforded by independent venues. In venues like this, innovative and exciting music can thrive. With all their exuberance and personality, I just can’t wait to see Prima Queen take over the world.