THE baby bottle lights and skin-tight neon yellow catsuit were the poptastic goalposts for Lily Allen’s return to the stage from an extended maternity leave.
But the stroke of Lily genius which distinguished her performance last night was the reality costume change.
We didn’t get to see her strip from the sexy suit to the high-waisted shorts and bra ensemble at their side of the stage.
We heard her do it, Allen chatting away as she suffered the delayed wardrobe malfunction of trying to peel off the clingy, sweaty costume.
We didn’t get to see her strip from the sexy suit to the high-waisted shorts and bra ensemble at their side of the stage.
We heard her do it, Allen chatting away as she suffered the delayed wardrobe malfunction of trying to peel off the clingy, sweaty costume.
“Is it Friday night? Should we have a party in my hotel room after? Could you imagine the hotel manager? It’s me and ah, 2000,” she quipped before erupting into that endearing girly giggle.
Allen had the flu and sounded quite breathless through most of the second half of the gig.
Yet vocal quality, or any occasional lack thereof, was of no concern to her audience.
With a good proportion of her younger fans already at Splendour In The Grass for her performance on Saturday’s bill, the Friday night crowd at the Hordern Pavilion in Sydney was surprisingly older.
Allen attracts such a wide-ranging demographic because of her lyrical smarts and the no-filter attitude of a pop star who calls it as she sees it.
She also enjoys the kind of relaxed and cheeky relationship with them which provokes a steady stream of “gifts” including a condom, a bracelet (”a real one not a loom band”), a wallet, a driver’s licence and a checked shirt, which she wore.
Allen wisely scheduled the hits and kept the misses out of the set, with recent single Hard Out Here scoring as rousing a reception as the still-perfect Smile and F ... You from way back.
Pop remains in safe hands as long as Allen stays in the game.
