Photo of Iluka by King Graf
w/ Kitty Coen & Vanity
On Thursday, August 27, the basement of Blueberry Hill’s Duck Room in St. Louis’ Loop was packed with a mellow but fun crowd gathered to experience Australian-born, Los Angeles-based singer-songwriter Iluka as she brought her blend of folk, rock, and soul to St. Louis as part of her Wings Tour. The tour supports her second full-length album, The Wild, The Innocent & The Raging, released July 9, 2026.
Kitty Coen opened the night—and she did it without a band. No guitarist, bassist, or drummer behind her. Instead, Coen relied on technology to fill in the instrumentation, and judging by her performance, having no band was no problem at all.
The setup put the spotlight directly on Coen and her powerful voice. Blending country rock and singer-songwriter influences with pop, indie, Americana, bluegrass, and a touch of Western flair, her songs draw from personal experiences while remaining relatable.
Coen confidently carried the performance on her own, proving that a full backing band isn’t always necessary to command a stage. “Bad Bad Liar” was a standout, made even more personal when Coen revealed the song was inspired by an ex. Her powerful delivery gave the song an added emotional weight, turning a personal experience into something the audience could connect with.
As the first opener on Iluka’s tour, Coen faced the challenge of introducing the audience to the evening ahead. She met it head-on, demonstrating that when the voice is strong and the songs connect, no band is no problem!
Featuring Billy Tiko on vocals, Justin Scott on bass, and Wayde Crawford on guitar, Vanity’s performance felt more like a circus-themed theatrical rock opera from another era than your run-of-the-mill rock gig. Engaging and highly melodic with a visually striking presence, the band brought an energy that quickly captured the room.
Tiko’s vocals were especially impressive—controlled, powerful, and astonishingly precise. There was a sense of classic melody woven into Vanity’s modern rock sound, showing that melody is very much alive in contemporary rock.
The band’s eight-song set included “Angels in the basement/Life’s A Gag,” “(T)ouch!,” “LSD,” “Experiment,” “Size Two,” “Manspreading in the Electric Chair,” “Suite 16” and “Mascara Masquerade.” Vanity’s performance completely lived up to the online hype, with “Experiment” standing out as a strong example of the band’s ability to translate its recorded material into an engaging live experience.
With Mascara Masquerade, Vanity’s debut album, set to drop September 18, the band is building momentum. Vanity made the most of its spot on the bill and left the Duck Room with a clear message: this is a band worth watching.
Iluka, whose real name is Nicola Iluka Jane Thorburn, brought a presence to the stage that was as captivating as it was candid. Armed with her signature White Falcon Gretsch guitar, she spent the evening peeling back layers of emotion through songs that refuse to hide behind euphemisms or easy answers.
The name “Iluka” means “by the sea” or “near the water.” While the Duck Room may be a long way from the ocean, Iluka created her own kind of current inside the intimate basement venue—one fueled by raw emotion, brutal honesty, and an unapologetic willingness to wear her feelings not only on her sleeve, but directly in front of her audience.
Yet there is nothing abrasive about the delivery. Iluka smooths those hard truths with a bewitching charm that makes even her most confrontational lyrics feel inviting. That combination kept the crowd locked in throughout the night.
Iluka’s music draws inspiration from songwriters and performers such as Tom Petty, Stevie Nicks, and Dolly Parton, but her perspective is distinctly her own. Her songs move comfortably between vulnerability, empowerment, anger, and reflection, creating a set that felt less like a carefully polished performance and more like an honest conversation set to music.
Early in the evening, Iluka took a moment to acknowledge the strange intimacy of a live performance.
“We’re all in this room together in a world where everything else is happening, so that’s really cool,” she told the crowd.
It was a sentiment that perfectly captured the atmosphere inside the Duck Room. Despite the packed room, there was an almost communal calm as the audience leaned into the performance rather than simply being spectators.
That intimacy became particularly apparent when Iluka introduced a song centered on feminine rage. “I think rage is so powerful,” she explained. She then launched into “Cry Evil,” turning the song into something more than a performance—it seemed like an emotional release shared between artist and audience.
Between songs, Iluka remained open and conversational, giving the crowd glimpses into the person behind the music.
“Process my life through myself,” she said, before expressing how lucky she felt to be standing in front of “beautiful people” like the St. Louis audience.
Later, she moved into “Thoughts and Prayers,” followed by a warm greeting to the crowd. “How are you all doing out there, St. Louis?” she asked, receiving an enthusiastic response. “Thank you so much for coming out.” Then came “American Beauty,” adding another layer to a set that continually moved between introspection, vulnerability, and defiance.
However, the night had one more personal moment in store. It was Iluka’s birthday, and the Duck Room crowd made sure she knew they hadn’t forgotten. The audience broke into a spontaneous rendition of “Happy Birthday,” catching the singer off guard.
Her drummer (Steph Barker) knelt down in front of her and presented a birthday cake with candles. “I wasn’t expecting this,” she admitted. “Thank you so much.”
The moment was genuine and unguarded—a fitting reflection of the relationship Iluka had built with the room throughout the evening. For an artist who had spent the night sharing so much of herself through her music, the crowd had found a way to give something back.
She soon turned that connection back toward the music. “Do you want to sing along with this next song? It’s called ‘Woman Gone Mad.’”
She asked the audience to join her on the chorus: “Oh my, ain’t it sad, ain’t it sad, just a woman gone mad.”
The room responded as Iluka launched into the song, transforming the Duck Room into something resembling a collective release. The performance embodied much of what makes Iluka compelling: she doesn’t ask permission to explore complicated emotions, and she doesn’t soften them simply to make them easier to consume.
Instead, she embraces them.
By the end of the night, Iluka had proven that vulnerability doesn’t have to mean weakness and rage doesn’t have to mean destruction. In her words, both become sources of strength.
Her mesmerizing lyrics, magnetic performance, and unmistakable ability to connect with an audience made the Duck Room feel less like a concert venue and more like a room full of people sharing something personal.
“Thank you so much for being here,” Iluka told the crowd.
And perhaps there was something fitting about an artist whose name means “by the sea” creating such a strong sense of movement and connection in a basement far from the water. On this night, Iluka didn’t need an ocean to create a current. She created one herself—through her music, her honesty, and the emotional connection flowing between the stage and the packed Duck Room.
If the crowd’s reaction was any indication, St. Louis was more than happy to be caught in her current. | King Graf
