Lorde’s Night of Euphoria: Raw Emotion, Stunning Visuals, and a Crowd That Knew Every Word

Photo by wwolnyphotography

Words By Martyna Rozenbajgier

There are concerts you attend, and then there are concerts you survive. Lorde’s Ultrasound World Tour stop at the O2 sits firmly in the second category — a 90-minute emotional MRI that scans every inch of you, prints out the bruised parts, and whispers, yes, babe, I’ve been there too. The O2 was packed to the rafters, buzzing with the kind of electric anticipation that makes a stadium feel alive. Twenty thousand people arrived dressed like they were going to therapy and the club at the same time — the perfect uniform for Lorde’s new era. Even before she appeared, the night already felt like a giant, glitter-tinted party with a rare, unspoken sense of community.

The night opened with Jim-E Stack, who shaped the atmosphere with a pulsing, rising tide of sound that slowly pulled the audience into his world. Then Nilüfer Yanya stepped into the spotlight, her smoky, soulful voice wrapping itself gently around the room like a late-night confession. By the time she walked offstage, the crowd was buzzing, warmed, and ready.

And then Lorde appeared.

She stepped into a wash of cool surgical light — barefoot, steady, stripped of all theatrics. No dancers, no pyro, no glitter cannons. Just Lorde doing the emotional work in real time. Minimalism became the loudest thing in the room.

She opened with “Hammer,” its sharp edges slicing straight through the stadium before sliding into the nostalgia-soaked pulse of “Royals.” “Broken Glass” and “Buzzcut Season” followed, shifting the mood from fractured introspection to the soft glow of suburban melancholy. By “Favourite Daughter,” the crowd was swaying like one massive organism, and “Perfect Places” lit the arena in warm fluorescence, reminding everyone why they loved her in the first place.

When she moved into “Shapeshifter,” the stage narrowed to a single beam of light, illuminating corners of her she’s never handed to tabloids. Then came “Current Affairs,” where she peeled off her jeans mid-song, shedding a layer of herself as the arena collectively gasped. From there, she plunged into “Supercut,” sprinting on a treadmill while belting the chorus — a chaotic, brilliant moment that turned the O2 into a pulsing underground club.

She barely let the adrenaline settle before diving into “GRWM,” drenching herself in water in a messy, glittery baptism. The night softened again for “400 Lux” and “The Louvre,” two songs that felt like slipping back into the golden haze of adolescence. “Oceanic Feeling,” “Big Star,” and “Liability” followed, transforming the arena into one giant exhale — people crying openly, strangers holding each other’s hands without hesitation.

With “Clearblue,” she steadied the emotional axis again, before “Man of the Year” and “If She Could See Me Now” added sharp, honest edges. Then came “Team,” a lightning bolt of unity that made the entire arena feel like a childhood friendship bracelet tied too tight. “What Was That” kept the energy wild and uncontained.

And then the moment that broke the internet: “Green Light” — with Sadie Sink walking onstage. The eruption was volcanic. They danced and screamed the lyrics into each other’s faces like girls who meet in a club bathroom and immediately turn into soulmates. It felt spontaneous, glittery, iconic.

She closed the main set with “David,” a shimmering, emotional gut-punch — and then, finally, “Ribs.”
The arena transformed again, this time into something closer to a shared heartbeat. Lorde invited fans onto a small rising platform, holding them as they screamed the lyrics back at her. Every trembling smile, every tear, every overwhelmed expression was projected across the O2. It didn’t feel staged. It didn’t feel like fan service. It felt like communion.

By the time the lights finally came up, it was clear Lorde wasn’t just touring an album. She was touring a metamorphosis. The night was bold yet intimate, cinematic yet stripped to the bone, emotionally brutal yet threaded with joy. The O2 didn’t feel like a venue; it felt like a massive party where everyone silently agreed to show up, let go, feel everything, and carry each other through the heavy parts.

Photos by wwolnyphotography