By the time I knew that ASMR had a name, and that there were others who felt it too, I was in my thirties and my response was diminishing, as it often does with age. When the YouTube ASMR phenomenon kicked off I was disappointed by the few videos I watched there, which failed to give me the blissful tingling feeling on my neck and scalp. So I am very interested to discover whether Leticia Lickkit – a creation of Amy Grace Laura Atkins – can bring some of the tingles back for me. I have never seen any of her YouTube (also TikTok and Instagram) videos before this performance.

As Atkins describes in her introduction – ASMR is triggered by quiet, focused, intimate concentration; by the person touching you, or whom you are hearing, or merely observing. This concentration by the object person is the vital aspect of an ASMR trigger. If that focused concentration is not being observed, what could have been a trigger is just another sound in the background, or an incidental touch. No tingles ensue.

ASMR videos – out of necessity – predominantly feature sound triggers, with less emphasis on visual and none on touch. That same necessity means sound is also the feature of this performance, which is conveyed by both Atkins’ headset mic and a studio close-range microphone on a stand. All the audience members have their own headphones. The combination powerfully invokes intimacy.

What could have been an hour-long progression of sound effects is turned into a cohesive performance through technology and storytelling. As well as the audio equipment, technical features include live looping of samples, acting to a soundtrack, and live sound effects queued by Atkins’ dialogue. Storytelling is used to deliver the essential ASMR trigger element of focus.

We are being hosted at five ASMR parties in sequence. This allows Atkins to use plot structure to transport us to common ASMR-rich scenarios, such as whispered ghost stories, quietly mixing drinks in an intimate cocktail party, and the classic: gentle examination by a health practitioner. All supported by foley sound effects performed on stage, exploiting the aural and sometimes optical characteristics of the party props.

There are technical aspects to the storytelling also. Atkins uses a digital camera to give us closeups of the objects being tapped, stroked or tinkled, or simply of her mouth breathing as she sets up an audio loop portraying someone sleeping deeply. The distinctive ASMR intimate tapping and tinkling, guided by whispered or quiet talk, transports those fortunate enough to experience strong ASMR into a blissful state.

My main ASMR triggers are touch-related and also visual. As a young child I remember watching my grandmother tilt her head back to use her bifocals, as she closely studied the horse-racing form in the newspaper, oblivious to the world, while I lay still, my neck and scalp tingling away. However, touch is the strongest trigger sense. Visits to a health practitioner or hairdresser, and even my mother searching for nits in my hair, were powerful triggers. Therefore the reward comes for me when a fellow audience member is invited on stage and has their hair gently attended to with loving focus. It is enough, and we are invested enough, to feel the comb on our own scalp. The tingles arrive.

There are first-performance glitches. A soundtrack sequence has some timing errors – with the action lagging behind the soundtrack. Some live sound effects are initially slow, but Atkins adjusts by increasing the emphasis on her verbal queues, and the timing from the tech support improves. Towards the end some of the foley and visual closeups lose the all-important sense of focus, and seem rushed and distracted. However, Atkins’ charm and humour carries the audience through these minor problems.

The performance ends with a brave stunt finale, satisfyingly lifting us out of our semi-hypnosis, leaving the audience of self-selected ASMR connoisseurs well-satisfied, tingling out the door.

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