Review: Kylie at The O2 arena

By Simon Hayes on July 31, 2008 1:06 PM |

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EVERYONE loves Kylie, and now I know why.

The Kylie phenomenon is one of modern culture's more enduring enigmas - how she has made an, at best, modest talent stretch across more than two decades is anyone's guess, but there she was, strutting her stuff to an adoring audience at The O2 arena on Wednesday, July 30.

And, amazingly, it was great stuff she was strutting.

There was never much doubt the pint-sized popstrel would draw in the crowds, playing to a house packed with kiddies, camp men and a host of young(ish) mothers who presumably were her original audience two decades ago.

The bigger question was whether the Minogue voice would be capable of filling the arena's cavernous depths. A thin, nasally confection on many of her records, whining like a dentist's drill across innumerable disco beats, even the most hardcore fan would be hard-pressed to say it's her strongest suit.

But staggeringly she rose to the occasion, and then some. Backed by a band of genuine quality Kylie's pipes hit all the right notes, sounding fuller and stronger than on any of her vast back catalogue of hits.

Of course, there were the innumerable costume changes and lavish stagings to take the eye as she trotted briskly through a set of crowd-pleasing hits, but she somehow managed to make her voice the main event, the vocal focal point.

Her confidence was evident when she tossed her most memorable modern hit, Can't Get You Out of My Head, into the mix almost immediately but better was to come, with the epic Kids standing out in particular.

Her life may have had more soapy twists than any episode of Neighbours could ever manage - the man problems, the cancer, the resurgent career - but there's no doubt Kylie is a class act.

A surreal evening, then, made all the stranger watching it elbow-to-elbow with Pete Waterman, the man who put the Aussie princess on the road to superstardom at the fag end of the 1980s.

It was hard to judge quite what old Pete made of his former protege, but the toe tapping along to closing number I Should be so Lucky hinted the music mogul was quietly enjoying himself.

And he, along with 20,000 others who slipped out into the muggy Greenwich night, would have had no doubt Kylie has earned her place in pop's pantheon, and long may she last.