Olivia Rodrigo embraces energy and imperfection at the O2 Arena — review

Screaming, glitter, phone screens, thousands of girls: all the signs of a big pop show were in place. But the fervour was dialled up a notch at London’s O2 Arena. Olivia Rodrigo was in town for the first of four nights at the 20,000-capacity venue. The US singer is the most popular of the new school of stars to have emerged in recent years. She’s now on her first arena tour, a significant test in the treacherous rapids and shallows of chart pop.

From the perspective of the regimented pop shows of yesteryear, all precision choreography and lip-syncing, not everything went swimmingly. There was a duff chord as she tinkled the ivories of a grand piano for her breakthrough 2021 hit “Drivers License”. It happened when she twisted herself sideways to flash the ivories of her dazzling smile at the audience. And there was a wardrobe malfunction later on when the clasp of her bra-top snapped during a spot of hoofing with her backing dancers. Rodrigo finished the song, aptly titled “Love Is Embarrassing”, with one hand holding the garment in place, the other holding the microphone into which she sang — and a look of amusement on her face.

The Californian is a product of the main corporate nursery of US pop talent. But despite her Disney schooling — which began in a television series in 2016 when she was 13 — Rodrigo differs from previous generations of alumni. She rejects the robotic perfection that the likes of Britney Spears were drilled to inhabit, whatever the personal cost. Instead, in songs that she writes or co-writes herself, she projects an engaging version of imperfection. “I want it to be, like, messy” are the introductory words of her debut album, 2021’s Sour.

Her opening number at the O2 Arena took that prospectus too far. “Bad Idea Right?”, from her latest album Guts, was a pop-punk dasher about a one-night stand with an ex, played for laughs. A five-strong band and two backing vocalists turned the dash into a blare, while Rodrigo bounced around the stage in a glittery, silvery affair shouting muffled vocals. But the rest of the staging lived up to the energy of the massed ranks of fans, aka “Livies”, who sang along to every word of every song.

The singer’s own voice rang out clearly for “Vampire”, the first of the evening’s slower numbers. She has a dynamic way with ballads, avoiding the pitfalls of emotional or musical gush. They recount betrayals and break-ups in tones of anger and regret, not lachrymosity. “I know we weren’t perfect,” she sang in “Drivers License”. Her flubbed moment of piano-playing made the sentiment seem more real.

There were examples of slick arena spectacle, such as her circuit of the auditorium sitting suspended on a large crescent moon. But the staging also carried a strong sense of spontaneity. Rodrigo’s conversational vocals were unfiltered and the instrumentation was live. The songs were punchy and appealing. Audience interaction didn’t carry the stamp of parasocial small talk. Even a claimed love of English delicacies such as beans on toast — she is surely the first Californian to profess it — came across as genuine. The arena test was passed with aplomb: this was a big, entertaining pop show with a personal touch.

★★★★☆

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