Review: In Orlando, Melanie Martinez ushers in a new, dystopian era

Melanie Martinez performing live on stage in a magenta outfit alongside back-up dancers under dramatic stage lighting. Melanie Martinez Credit: Lisa Claire c/o Kia Center

Before kicking into “White Boy with a Gun” last Thursday night at Orlando’s Kia Center, a voice recording of Melanie Martinez reminded us that some guys are dramatically more deceiving than others, and it’s a lesson often learned just when we think we finally have everything figured out.

“They use verbiage that makes you feel as if they are on your side…only to get at that thing in between your legs,” she observed. “They claim to protect women, but check their drawers.”

Following a quick break and a critically-acclaimed “Trilogy” tour, which celebrated her first three albums, the 31-year-old started fresh earlier this year. Her longtime Cry Baby character left the building, and March’s Hades (stylized in all-caps)—the first half of a promised dual-album—is told from the perspective of Circle, a girl who was raised in a totally remote and unknown cult before being forced to become a living, breathing justification for the extermination of human artists in an AI-controlled dystopian world known as Hades.

And as per usual, when Martinez drops an album, you had better believe it’s the only thing she’s playing on the tour promoting it.

Just after 9 p.m., following a high-energy opening act from up-and-coming alt-pop singer-songwriter Isabel Larosa, the first notes of Hades’ opening track “Garbage” were plucked out, and our protagonist popped out of a suitcase resting on a bed draped in pink. Moments beforehand, Circle, rocking a flowery, magenta ensemble herself, had been depicted as a recently-discovered young woman that came off as brainwashed by an unknown cult. But regardless of who hurt her, or was about to hurt her, our girl was about to spit some harsh truths, with some epic visuals to support her.

Now, remember: AI and tech advancements are more than capable of being two completely separate entities, and the latter can be applied to how mind-blowing the 3D visuals were on Martinez’s video wall behind her. A stone bookshelf with knick-knacks was revealed on “Possession” (with some band members peeking out from behind). The ambiance of a Tim Burton stop-motion film came about on the accordion-heavy “Gutter,” just to literally go up in flames at the end. And after she was forced inside of a human-sized bubble to be injected with the AI capabilities that would give her “the ability to be pushed further to perform at a higher level,” her six-piece dance troupe joined her for tea and cakes at a pink castle during the monetization-inspired “Disney Princess.”

While I won’t pretend her dancers were overwhelming, what they did contribute was still plenty commendable. During an onstage costume change for “Weight Watchers,” Martinez was placed into a tan, tulle-like gown with streamer-esque straps on it, which led to a quick maypole dance. And after Circle introduced “The Plague” by declaring how COVID-19 and the Black Plague were siblings due to the mass fear they both produced, the stage became a medieval hospital wing, where members coughed and hacked without covering mouths (like true Floridians, amirite?) and later pranced around their boss with oversized medical instruments.

Martinez herself was on fire, too. Her breathy falsetto was as dazzling in real life as on the records, and yet with Hades, you’d never be able to tell that this is the same person that was the epitome of dollcore alt-pop not too long ago. Her four-piece band was solid, too, but deserved far more visibility than it got, having been obscured by the video wall for most of the night. We still got a few dimly lit glimpses at some members throughout, though. If you looked closely on the left side of the video wall during “Grudges,” you could see violinist Juliette Jones hard at work and proving that those string parts were authentic and not at all from a synthesizer.

It was right before then that Martinez and her dancers transitioned over to the mid-arena B-stage for a whirlwind of different vibes. A soft and intimate hush lingered for “Avoidant,” which saw her serenade—and sit criss-cross applesauce opposite—a kid that admitted that they had an avoidant attachment style. A fan-organized project also occurred during “Monolith,” when some phone flashlights in the crowd lit up pink with a little help from colored paper. And Martinez had a Pink Floyd moment on “Monopoly Man” (go and analyze the hell out of 1973’s “Money,” OK?), which was introduced with a speech that referenced billionaires wanting to live forever and going to Epstein Island.

Though she’d head back to the main stage not long after, Martinez saved her encore for the B-stage, where a whole couch and TV rose up from underneath to accompany her and Zero—a member of her dance troupe—on “The Last Two People on Earth.”

There’s something to be said about Martinez bringing her concept album material even more to life every tour. Every time she gets onstage, it’s more of a modern, girlie-pop rock opera than just another pop show. The amount of thought she puts into those characters can make one think that she’s looking at moving toward doing some full-on worldbuilding. Hell, before we know it, Martinez may go full Tolkien and actually do just that.

But in the meantime, whether or not Hades is a wake-up call for where the world is headed, one thing is for sure: that white boy with a gun she sang about? Who needs him?

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