Ellise brings dark pop energy to Columbus crowd
Another cold night in Columbus, days before the expected Snowpocalypse threatening most of the country and all of the midwest. The kind that discourages wandering, that makes you question whether leaving the house is worth the effort. But inside the A&R Music Bar, one of those rooms that’s seen more sweat and ambition than it ever gets credit for, something else was taking shape.
This was my first show photographing in 2026. A sharp turn away from distorted guitars and muscle memory. Tonight belonged to pop. Dark pop, theatrical pop, pop still figuring out what it wants to be. Ellise was in town, supported by Meg Smith. A smaller crowd, sure. But the people who made it through the cold weren’t casual observers. They were buzzing. Vibrating. Ready.
MEG SMITH
The room fell dark. A drum beat rolled in, simple and deliberate, and the energy in the bar swelled beyond what the attendance numbers suggested. Meg Smith stepped onto the stage dressed somewhere between satire and sincerity: short denim shorts, a cherry-lined bra, oversized angel wings, and her signature halo hovering above it all. She calls herself the Patron Saint of Pop Music, and whether that’s a joke, a thesis statement, or both remains intentionally unclear.
Musically, she lives in the overlap between Sabrina Carpenter and Chappell Roan: bright hooks, sharp edges, and a sense that she’s still deciding which direction to lean into. There’s no shortage of talent. She played guitar. She played the saxophone. She held the room. A crowd vote led to a cover of Britney Spears’ “Toxic,” which landed with enthusiasm and just enough irony to work.
What I couldn’t quite pin down was how seriously she takes the saintly schtick. Is it commentary? Is it branding? Is it just fun? Pop music, historically, doesn’t always demand an answer to those questions. And judging by the crowd, many of them were wearing halos handed out earlier—it didn’t matter much. They were in. When Meg stepped off the stage and into the crowd mid-song, the response was immediate and ecstatic.
It was an enjoyable set. But if I’m being honest, it felt a little undercooked, like a great idea still searching for its final form. I’d be curious to see where Meg Smith is in three to five years, once the identity locks in and the edges sharpen.
ELLISE
Then came Ellise.
The lights dropped again. This time, a drummer and a bassist/keyboardist took their places first, not so quietly setting the tone. When Ellise walked out, there was no hesitation. No testing the waters. She looked like someone who had done this before—and knew exactly why she was there.
The crowd surged as she launched into her opening song. Small room, big reaction. I always pay close attention to pop-adjacent acts, especially live, because there’s a question that hangs over so much of the genre: how much of this is real? Tracks, backing vocals, programmed perfection. It can all pull the oxygen out of a room fast.
Ellise passed that test easily. Outside of a few backing elements, this was a largely live performance. And it mattered. Her voice is powerful in a way that feels almost disproportionate to her frame. Watching her sing, veins standing out in her neck as she pushed those melodies out, you couldn’t fake that if you tried.
She’s cited Ariana Grande as an influence, and you can hear it. But there was something else tugging at my ear all night. It took a minute to place it. Early The Neighbourhood—that moody, atmospheric, emotionally restrained tension that simmers instead of exploding. As someone who’s a big Neighbourhood fan, that comparison works for me. It suits her. It gives her credibility as something more than a pop act. She’s an artist.
Ellise’s set was impressive. She’s clearly still early in her career, but there wasn’t much to criticize musically. The oddest distraction didn’t come from the stage—it came from the front row. Early on, she borrowed a fan’s phone to record a first-person clip. A sweet gesture. Unfortunately, it opened the floodgates. After that, phone after phone reached up, demanding the same treatment. It became a visual static that pulled focus away from what was otherwise a tight, compelling set.
Still, that’s a small thing.
I’d happily photograph Ellise again, especially once she graduates into larger rooms and spaces that let her voice stretch and breathe. She has the tools: the voice, the look, the confidence, the presence. The challenge now is surviving a genre where those qualities are common, but longevity is rare.
On a cold January night in Columbus, inside a humble bar that’s hosted countless artists on their way up or out, Ellise and Meg Smith gave a glimpse into two very different versions of pop ambition. And for the people who braved the weather, it was worth every frozen fingertip.
Some rooms don’t need to be full to feel alive.
