The BBC Big Weekend stage is Sabrina Carpenter’s for 30 minutes or so, but time collapses when a pop show is this well-oiled. It’s a warm-weather pop sugar rush, bright and punchy and gone too soon, but with just enough sting to remind you it happened. Carpenter is all economy, all control—vocals sharp, footwork clean, expression switching between practiced flirtation and genuine delight. She knows exactly how this machine runs, but she wants you to believe she’s making it up as she goes along.
“Read Your Mind” drops in like it’s been there the whole time, a confident opener that swings between breezy and biting. She moves like she’s skipping stones across water—light-footed, perfectly timed, unfazed. Her voice, deceptively casual, skates across the hook’s sarcasm: you say you want commitment but, actually, you don’t. The crowd, already sold, is swaying and lip-syncing, locked into the Carpenter wavelength.
“Feather” lands like a smirk, its effervescent synths and sugar-dipped harmonies disguising the precision behind its swing. She’s playing with expectations, giving you glitter while quietly setting the trap. It’s a breakup song disguised as euphoria—freedom wrapped in a chorus designed to loop in your brain for days. Carpenter lets it stretch, swaying into a brief jazz-flavored interlude before snapping it back, reinforcing the idea that she’s always in control.
Then a shift—“Tornado Warnings” dials down the tempo, not the tension. A song about emotional self-deception that doesn’t wail or beg, just lets the weight settle. The stage lights cool down, and Carpenter holds the mic closer, voice lower, head tilted like she’s almost whispering secrets into it. If earlier, she was the effortless performer, here, she’s the unreliable narrator in her own story. The audience softens with her, a few arms raised, swaying in the way people do when a song isn’t just being heard—it’s landing.
The thing about Carpenter is that she’s mastered the bait-and-switch. She delivers songs with the timing of a great comedian, letting tension stretch just long enough before flipping into something fizzy and fun again. “Espresso” arrives like a siren call, all funk guitar and cheeky irreverence, vocals curling at the edges with amusement. The crowd catches on quickly, bouncing back into movement. If earlier she let the sadness simmer, now she’s caffeinated, unstoppable. The bassline slides and snaps, and Carpenter is at the center of it, feeding off the audience’s energy while making sure to keep them just a little off balance.
And then there’s “Nonsense.” The closer, the anthem, the one where the script gets tossed out. Carpenter leans into its ridiculous charm, grinning as she teases out her usual ad-libbed outro verse—something local, something a little cheeky, something destined to be clipped and shared before the night is over. The trick of “Nonsense” is that it shouldn’t work, but it does. The crowd eats it up. Of course they do. Pop thrives on moments like these—the ones that feel a little messy, a little too fun to be completely planned. It’s the last hit of sugar before the lights go down.
And then she’s gone. The festival churns on, another act loading in, the crowd shifting restlessly. But Carpenter’s set lingers, like the last trace of something sweet on your tongue. The real trick isn’t just making people dance—it’s making them wish they had just ten more minutes of it.
Sabrina Carpenter is no longer a warm-up act. She’s the main event. You just don’t realize it until after she’s already left the stage.
Words & photos – Richard Isaac
“We Love Live Music” is a new platform dedicated to celebrating the energy, passion and joy in live music – thank you for visiting our site! You, the gig goers & festival goers, are a big part of the “We..”. So we’d love to hear from you, share your views or gig stories in the comments below the reviews, or tag us in your socials in your posts from the shows. Look us up on TikTok/IG/Facebook/YouTube where we’ll be posting regular content