Back in 2021, Odie Leigh, a singer-songwriter from Baton Rouge, Louisiana, posted a song she wrote on TikTok, and it went viral. It’s a common story that usually spells one of two fates for budding stars: a one-hit-wonder rise and fall, or a quick skyrocket to stardom.
For Leigh, the answer was somewhere in between.
She gained hundreds of thousands of followers on TikTok and continued to make new music, but relatively stayed in her lane, releasing her debut album, “Carrier Pigeon,” in 2024. It would seem to the uneducated viewer that she was somewhat ascribing to the lyrics of her viral song, “Crop Circles,” which reflects on her resistance to change and tendency to stay in one place too long.
But in the dark hall of The Sinclair on Nov. 10, on her “Carrier Pigeon” tour, it was clear to me — even if it isn’t yet to Leigh — that as an artist, she’s transformed.
Leigh is an eccentric star, not just because of her style — featuring lime green fishnet tights, leopard print, low black kitten heels and a shag mullet with streaks of green — but because of her sound, which seems to pull from a variety of musicians.
As she journeyed through the setlist, I heard hints of Maggie Rogers and Fiona Apple in her low timbre. In the vulnerability of her lyrics, particularly during her acoustic set, it was hard not to think of other stars defining the folk rock genre like Adrienne Lenker and Phoebe Bridgers.
In the punk-rock-mosh-pit part of the evening — encouraged and goaded by the band members, who stood on the stage and encouraged fans to run around the floor as Leigh played her guitar — I even heard hints of ‘90s female rockers like Letters to Cleo and The Cardigans.
But what makes Leigh original — and worth listening to — is that she isn’t any of these artists.
Her setlist, which bounced back and forth from jubilant to soft-spoken and solemn, demonstrates the range of an artist who does not feel the need to be an imitation.
While I thought Leigh’s energy was best when performing with the rest of her band, the small acoustic set she played alone in the middle of her show didn’t kill the momentum of the performance. It changed it, manipulating the feeling of the audience so our energy was tuned with hers.
It was obvious to me that Leigh knew she had reins on the crowd and wanted to utilize that while she could, her voice soulful and clear.
Leigh played three songs alone: the crowd favorite “Chutes & Ladders,” “Nine Lives” and a gorgeous rendition of “Crop Circles,” the emotion accentuated by the clear and solitary ring of her acoustic guitar.
Before beginning “Crop Circles,” Leigh acknowledged the power of the internet on her career, a running theme of the evening that emphasized the serendipity and fortune of our chance to be in the same venue at the same time.
Nothing about live music seems particularly easy. I’d imagine the pressure of getting it right, pleasing fans and performing is just as much of a weight on the performer as it is a privilege.
But what makes all of the difference for the audience is whether or not the musician seems to enjoy that pressure — if the performance is obviously an exercise in catharsis rather than a burden.
For an artist like Leigh, who obviously feeds off of the energy of the crowd, catharsis is the only word to describe her brand of performance. Even the simple acoustic patter of “Ronnie’s Song” became a celebration, when it easily could have slipped into a lull.
It’s easy to define artists by their once-viral songs. But what turns these potential one-hit wonders into icons is how they perform. Stage presence is the defining characteristic of a true star, and Leigh has it in droves.
“Crop Circles” made Leigh internet famous. But the song wasn’t the highlight of her show on Sunday — not because it was a bad rendition, but because the songs from “Carrier Pigeon” demonstrated a new level of artistry and insight into her own psyche.
I didn’t mind Leigh running through old memories and songs — I just don’t think she needs to anymore.
