Live Review: Lorde - Festival Hall

There’s “Lorde” chanting down front and that particular pitch of tween squealing usually heard during schoolyard bouts of ‘What’s The time, Mr Wolf?’ when Mr Wolf calls, “Dinner time!”

The New Zealand songstress materialises solo, under a single spotlight and wears what resembles a white strapless bra over baggy black t-shirt and matching pants, which could double as pyjamas. Glory And Gore features the lyrics, “But victory’s contagious,” and it’s true – Ella Marija Lani Yelich-O’Connor is on a roll, career-wise.

Lorde’s goth-friendly backdrop is based around a gilt frame cleft in three. She’s backed by two, white-clad accompanyists – drummer and keyboard player/samples provider – and Tennis Court (“…And talk it up like yeah/[Yeah!]“) echoes gloriously throughout the hall. Lorde dedicates a song to Ben from Wellington, who she adds was one of her “first five fans”. Strangely, her speaking voice doesn’t contain any traces of kiwi.

When Lorde is bookended by her own image, in crystal clarity inside fractured frame fragments, the effect is haunting. Lorde winds up one song by collapsing on the floor and refers to her fans as her “friends”. Her audience is comprised of motionless smartphone brandishers.

Just when we think she’ll remain in her PJs all night, Lorde slips gold metallic drapery on and confetti canons detonate.

There’s a patch of extended banter that makes us wish they’d strike up the band, Logies speech wrap-up styleez. And a drinking game for every time Lorde says “Melbourne” would have devastating results in a licensed venue. She talks about “running from getting old” and then tells us this was the inspiration behind Ribs. Lyrics: “It feels so scary getting old” – at the ripe age of 17? Purlease! Royals, as expected, is all that. The giant chandelier that dangles above the onstage action looks spectacular to match how Lorde’s voice sounds. Retina-burning magenta flashing LEDs punctuate the beat throughout Team, which is a ridiculously assured song.

Just when we think she’ll remain in her PJs all night, Lorde slips gold metallic drapery on and confetti canons detonate. This is when we notice there’s a Beyoncé fan positioned front and centre, directed her way. With those lush cascading curls it won’t be long before she’s starring in shampoo commercials, with no air brushing allowed (obviously). The songs somehow succeed in being simultaneously propulsive and mesmeric. This is shoulder-popping music, but Lorde convulses to it.

Wandering up Dudley Street after the show, a dude is overheard telling his approximately seven-year-old plus one of Lorde: “The dancing wasn’t as bad as people make it out to be.” The teen singer is a great, ‘be whoever you wanna be’-type role model for tweens. And her sincere message (posted on Frontier Touring’s Facebook page) to fans the following day, ensuring that “every handmade bracelet, every letter and shark-shaped bookmark”, she receives as gifts are treasured, just makes us love her more. David Byrne should most certainly collaborate with the young singer. She’s Emily The Strange come to life.