Sudan Archives | Cleo Reed
Academy 2, Manchester
4th December 2025
Photography by Evan McGill (From Glasgow QMU)
Millie Throp
Freelance writer based in Manchester, specialising in editorial for fashion, culture, music and film. A passionate storyteller seeking out the niche and the new, often seen reading, journaling, or befriending a neighbourhood cat.
Sudan Archives performs her new album ‘THE BPM’ with an intense and infectious confidence at the Manchester stop of her tour
Cincinnati-born Sudan Archives released her self-titled EP in 2017, introducing the world to her self-written, self-produced, self-performed one-woman mastery. Blessing us with tracks like ‘Come Meh Way’ and ‘Confessions’, her folk-meets-electro profile bursts with originality, playing string instruments in a uniquely Northeast African styling. But when it comes to the album that engenders her current tour,‘THE BPM’ bodes a ripe beginning, transcending her discography for a sound that’s less frolicking – and an experience to see live.
On the second floor of a student’s union in Manchester, New York songwriter Cleo Reed played as appetiser to the evening. With sequenced beats, expressive rap, and countrified melodies strummed on acoustic guitar, Reed’s own self-everything artistry appeared adjacent to Sudan Archives herself. Reed’s recent second full-length album, ‘Cuntry’ is one to surely keep an ear out for.
With the room filtered in red light, the intro to ‘DEAD’ chimed in with a fogged silhouette: a contoured figure with a crossbow. Instead, Sudan Archives stands with her violin, bringing me chills all the same. There was a certain euphoria upon hearing her, before the song’s airiness was parted with a sweat-fuelled backing and “hello, it’s me”, well received by the room, bopping in unison to the track’s breakbeat finale.
For the duration, the 31-year-old outwardly expressed a hyper-femininised, cyborg-like character, malfunctioning with each hit of her soundboard, and rolling her eyes back to reveal all white contacts.
Then came the fast clapping and strings of an old release,‘NGPQ (Topless)’, which arrived with the lyrical promise, “I’m not average” – not that anyone would think it anyway. Alone, the song has plentiful layers, speaking perfectly to her dimensions as an artist. It’s a cacophony of cultural influence; queer coded, but also classically beautiful.
Having played the violin since age 10, each solo is therefore a recentering, working in polarity to the intensity of her new album.
Reaching ‘Nont For Sale’, her lyrics, “this is my light, don’t block the sun”, arrive ceremoniously, uttered after an infectious, trap-style intro. In fact, the track’s bass and bars feel as impactful as gunfire, offering one-liners like “stay out of my flight path”. Seemingly, Sudan is Mother and her words are a mantra, resonating against a careful arrangement of plucked strings.
Showcasing the technical ear she honed during her studying of music technology, ‘COME AND FIND YOU’ followed up as another popular new release, implemented with splintering, violin sharpness and a self-produced, afrobeat backing.
Having now experienced her dexterity first hand, I’m in disbelief that Sudan was nearly a pop-star, but it feels characteristic that she ditched rehearsals to smoke weed instead. Her lyrics in ‘A BUG’S LIFE’, “she never looks back and she can’t go home,” inflict a sense of unison and rage, peering into an integral moment of her self-making, sparked when she left home for LA age 19.
In playing ‘SHE’S GOT PAIN’, you truly feel the catharsis, and I was grateful to fuel the release. But the night felt like it was coming to a climax as we reached ‘Come Meh Way’ and its ethereal chanting, causing the lights to turn yellow in what felt akin to a church sermon.
Alighting from the altar after ‘Selfish Soul’, the artist treated us to ‘Confessions’ upon her return. But, to my surprise, the evening would actually crescendo with an announcement of “BPM TIME”, before the title track began to play out. “The BPM is the power” then repeated until the floorboards reverberated upwards, where my mind left the gymnasium interior with the thought that we’d all be (positively) marked upon leaving.
Well, it’s fair to say I will be.
Photography by Evan McGill