Two months ago, Bleach Lab (comprised of vocalist Jenna Kyle, guitarist Louis Takooree, bassist Josh Longman, and drummer Kieran Weston), released the 43 minutes of glimmering dream pop otherwise known as Lost In A Rush Of Emptiness. The debut album is sonically nebulous and cinematic, grounded by lyrics and references that make it undeniably human—nods to Bruce Springsteen, Say Anything, and a posthumous Leonard Cohen collection are made without pretension; simple refrains like “Please leave the light on / If you care” and “Life gets better” define its ability to capture the timeless, universal ache of early adulthood. It’s a record you wish you could give to your younger, freshly-heartbroken self, the one with all those overwhelming feelings they can’t quite name. “If only they could remake The Perks of Being a Wallflower with one of our songs playing during the tunnel scene,” the band jokes, “Really, any type of coming of age or self-discovery film would be incredible.”

It’s a cold, gray November night in London. Scala, the historic cinema-turned-music venue positioned across from King’s Cross Station, has a capacity of 800 people and houses Bleach Lab’s largest show to date. Tonight is also the final stop on their Lost In A Rush Of Emptiness tour. Openers absolutely anything and Wings of Desire have warmed up the steadily-growing crowd, the stage awash in red fluorescents and anticipation. The band’s signature symbol—a bouquet of wildflowers—has been brought to life, with flowers tied to the mic stand, drum kit, and speakers. The man beside me checks Setlist.fm; a group of girls to my right discuss their first time discovering Bleach Lab. All conversation drops to a hush when the lights go down and the band arrives, launching into Lost In A Rush of Emptiness’ “Indigo,” a track documenting the push-and-pull of unstable romantic relationships backed by sweeping strings and catchy percussion. There’s an immediate ease to the band, with frontperson Jenna Kyle utilizing the mic stand as a dance partner, her movements intentional, vocals tender, not unlike the women of 1970s Laurel Canyon she cites as inspiration.

Another fan favorite is the poignant “Saving All Your Kindness,” its gauzy soundscape counterbalanced by lyrics that are especially resonant in the age of situationships, talking stages, and not-quite commitment: “Is there someone you’re holding out for? / Baby, I’ve been lying to myself / Are you saving all your kindness / And your love for someone else?”

Bleach Lab wastes no time, only occasionally punctuating their free-flowing set with gratitude for the tour, for our being here, and once to dedicate “Smile For Me” (the album’s lead single, reviewed by The New Age Magazine’s own Isla Mcrobbie) to “anyone who has felt harassed or made uncomfortable at the hands of somebody else.” This is met with enthusiasm, particularly from the younger attendees, who lift lighters—not phone torches, lighters!—and sway along to the next few songs, hands around each other’s waists and arms.

The coveted ability to share this space with each other in a post-pandemic world is not lost on Bleach Lab; after all, Lost In A Rush Of Emptiness is the first project the band was able to make in the same room, with their last three EPs constructed remotely due to lockdown. Of their newfound unity, the band says, “It’s completely surreal seeing people sing along to our songs, even the lesser known releases. It’s such an intimate and emotional experience. We always intended to write with our listeners in mind and a lot of the subjects we write about are quite personal. We often have a few chats with people after our shows about how certain songs have impacted them or even helped them in some way. That’s as rewarding as it gets, really.” Lost In A Rush Of Emptiness is a record steeped in isolation, loneliness, and confusion, but it comes to life when performed, and Bleach Lab can finally see the effects of their music: living, breathing, dancing, right before their eyes.

The show ends on the visceral, all-consuming “Everything At Once,” to thunderous applause. The band links arms, poses for a picture, and gathers each wildflower bouquet from the stage before throwing them out into the crowd. It’s a gorgeous display of appreciation—Bleach Lab have waited years to receive their roses, but even once they’re earned, the band gives them right back to us.