Live music has always offered audiences an escape, but the most memorable performances go one step further. Rather than simply transporting listeners through music alone, they create entirely new worlds to inhabit. Those worlds are built through atmosphere, storytelling and a collection of carefully considered details that make fiction feel tangible. On Thursday night at Hollywood Forever Cemetery, Suki Waterhouse accomplished exactly that, inviting fans into “Loveland,” a dreamy universe where romance, heartbreak and humor existed side by side.

There are few venues in Los Angeles better suited for that kind of theatrical experience than Hollywood Forever Cemetery. As the final resting place of icons including Judy Garland, David Lynch and Estelle Getty, the grounds already possess a quiet mythology before a single stage light turns on. Waterhouse and her creative team embraced that atmosphere rather than competing with it. Soft pink and white sheer fabric cascaded from the stage truss like the canopy of a storybook bed. A giant mirrored heart stood behind the band while Cupid’s arrows were scattered across the stage, gently reinforcing the fantasy about to unfold. By the time the lights dimmed, Hollywood Forever no longer felt like a concert venue. It had become Loveland.

The audience embraced the fantasy just as enthusiastically. Flowing skirts, lace, bows, vintage dresses and bedazzled denim transformed the crowd into an extension of the production itself. Before the first song had even begun, it felt as though everyone had collectively agreed to suspend reality for the evening.

Opening the night was Los Angeles singer-songwriter Charlotte Lawrence, whose effortless charisma immediately won over the audience. Before performing a single song, she warned everyone that her opening joke came courtesy of her father before declaring they looked like “a dead crowd.” Inside a cemetery, the joke landed exactly as intended, immediately establishing the playful rapport she would maintain with the audience throughout her set.

Charlotte Lawrence

Lawrence comfortably moved between songs about heartbreak and betrayal while never allowing the performance to become emotionally stagnant. Before introducing one track, she bluntly told the audience, “I wrote this about Johnny…fuck you, Johnny,” earning one of the night’s biggest laughs. Between songs she introduced her band, joked about making mistakes before performing unreleased material and kept the energy loose despite the heavier subject matter. She closed with a powerful rendition of The Cranberries’ “Zombie,” showcasing the strength of her vocals while sending the audience into intermission eager for the evening’s headliner.

Around 8:30 p.m., the lights dimmed once again. Rather than immediately stepping onto the stage, Waterhouse allowed the world she had created to introduce itself first.

Judy Garland’s rendition of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” echoed throughout Hollywood Forever before dissolving into flashes of lightning, pulsing red lights and the unmistakable ring of a rotary telephone.

Then, a voice answered, “If you’re here for love, stay on the line. If you’re here for trouble, stay on the line. If you can’t tell the difference…welcome to Loveland.”

Suki Waterhouse

In a matter of seconds, the audience understood exactly where they were. Loveland was not simply a visual theme or clever tour concept. It was a fictional destination with its own mythology, one where romance and heartbreak occupied the same space. Moments later, Waterhouse appeared after being theatrically struck by Cupid’s arrow before opening with “Super Sad,” officially welcoming the audience into the evening’s story.

From that point forward, the illusion never broke. Instead of relying solely on between-song banter, Waterhouse repeatedly returned to the ringing telephone, using recorded conversations to guide the audience deeper into Loveland. Each call acted as another chapter in the story, gradually revealing the emotional landscape she had created. During one particularly memorable recording, a voice confessed, “I know it’s late…I thought I wanted to hear your voice. No…I wanted you to hear mine,” perfectly capturing the longing and uncertainty that runs throughout so much of Waterhouse’s songwriting.

Despite the theatrical framework, Waterhouse never allowed the production to overshadow her personality. Early in the set she looked out at the audience and casually asked, “Do you ever feel like a bitch?” before launching into “Tiny Raisins,” drawing laughter from every corner of the venue. Moments later she joked that everyone in the crowd looked so attractive it was almost distracting. Those off-the-cuff interactions prevented the performance from becoming overly polished, grounding its fantasy in genuine warmth and reminding the audience that behind Loveland’s mythology was an artist clearly enjoying herself.

What made the evening so successful was the consistency of its vision. Every visual cue, every phone call and every transition reinforced the same imagined universe without ever feeling excessive. The mirrored heart, Cupid’s arrows and recurring telephone motif were never reduced to decorative props. Instead, they became part of the evening’s language, making the audience feel less like spectators and more like participants moving through a story as it unfolded.

As the performance progressed, Waterhouse effortlessly shifted between playful charm and emotional vulnerability. That balance reached its emotional peak during “18,” when she sang, “It wasn’t love, it was so much worse.” The lyric lingered over the crowd long after it was delivered, briefly stripping away Loveland’s whimsical exterior to reveal the heartbreak beneath it. It served as a reminder that even the most beautiful imagined worlds are often built from very real emotions.

If there was any doubt about which songs have become defining moments in Waterhouse’s catalog, “Good Looking” quickly erased it. The audience sang nearly every word back to her, transforming the performance into one of the night’s biggest communal moments. For a few minutes, the distinction between artist and audience disappeared entirely as voices echoed throughout Hollywood Forever, reinforcing the sense that everyone present had become part of the same story.

By the time Waterhouse reached “Loveland,” the evening’s central idea had come full circle. What began with a mysterious phone call welcoming the audience into an imagined destination had gradually evolved into something tangible through thoughtful production, recurring theatrical interludes and songs that explored every corner of romance, longing and self-discovery. The title track no longer felt like the introduction to a fantasy. It felt like its realization.

The strongest acts of storytelling do not end when the lights come up. They linger, inviting audiences to carry a piece of that imagined place home with them. That is precisely what made Waterhouse’s performance so compelling. Rather than relying on spectacle alone, she built a world convincing enough that, for one evening, Hollywood Forever ceased to be a cemetery and became somewhere else entirely. In doing so, Waterhouse proved that the most memorable concerts are not always the loudest or most elaborate. Sometimes they are simply the ones that allow an audience to believe, if only for a night, that somewhere like Loveland really exists.

Setlist:

1. Supersad
2. Tiny Raisin
3. OMG
4. Any Man
5. Back in love
6. Jukebox
7. My Fun
8. Happy With It
9. Moves
10. Notting Hill
11. 18
12. When I Get Drunk (I Want You Boy)
13. Good Looking
14. Think Twice
15. Dream Woman
16. Johanna
17. Puppy Dog Eyes
18. Loveland

Encore:

1. Weirdo
2. To love

Photo Credit: Jake Gregory