For an act that played in front of the house curtain and with just a few pathetic red lights dripping down (red upon red? Nice), La Shark were still a band to visually enjoy. Stumbling out of some sort of New Romantic punk era that the kids within the crowd feel is now terribly unfashionable, the line-up for the band is an implausible mismatch of faces, held in check by the Guy With the Political French Flag and sporting a headless action man for a necklace. Slowly jogging on the spot like someone with cheesestring limbs, the front man zooms so far into the realm of the artsy-fartsy that he has come out the other end and actually, rather incredibly, has come out smelling of roses. This imperviousness to the avant garde pitfalls has everything to do with their earnest performance as, even though the band collectively have a bit of a swagger to them, it is their inner desire to please that helps get a fair proportion of the crowd on their side.

Rob Ball | mintsouth.com

After several rock ‘n’ roll discs later, Paloma struts onto the stage under the guise of low lighting and a slow crescendo from the band. If La Shark’s spirit had been vomited from the guts of the post-punk revolution, then Paloma’s has surely come from the far more glamorous jazz swing era. Capturing the attention and hearts of many once the lights spark up, she wears a figure-hugging black lounge dress that dazzles with brilliant sequins and, at the end of her arms, is loaded with trademark giant ammonite adornments (spirally fossil things, dear). From the opener Smoke & Mirrors, the atmosphere becomes more vibrant; ammonites are shrugged off to the floor and Paloma fills the place with her surprisingly powerful, rich vocals. From thereon in, she plays a solid set but admits that she is feeling unwell and finding it hard to sing. With no real evidence of this apart from her honesty, she allures with genuine, effortless showmanship and hauls up one lucky fan to be sung at on centre stage for one song, playfully teased and wooed as he sits awkwardly on a stool. Several costume changes in and Paloma Faith and her band have delivered a truly amazing, pounding remix version of her hit ‘Do You Want the Truth Or Something Beautiful?’, then slinking into a respectful cover of Billie Holiday’s ‘God Bless the Child’. The contrast between these two songs in particular highlights what Paloma is about, as her Jazz/Soul roots is encrusted in a lavish and circus-like extravagance, full of sex and magnetism.

Banter is rich and intimate, flaunting the rare star-quality that Paloma has somehow come to acquire, making it feel as if she’s speaking and singing and performing just for you (clichéd but true). With such ad lib talks sandwiched between the star-struck, big-time performances, it creates a weird but satisfying stop-start feel, where hundreds upon hundreds of punters are more than glad to become absolutely silent, to allow Paloma to shrink from giant songstress to a tiny, slightly croaky pixie from Laandin. It shouldn’t work, but then neither should ammonite props…

Predictably ending the night with ‘New York’, the crowd participation is at a high and enables the illin’ Paloma to take back seat for parts of the chorus, preserving what is left of her vocals for the next show of the tour.

It is near on impossible for you not to fall in love with Paloma Faith. Witnessing the genuine joy and passion displayed on this night makes me hope – on a completely unrealistic level, as if I am a close friend! – that she continues to receive the support and fanbase to grow as an artist. Paloma’s musicality helps ensure that her music is rich with meaning and purpose and very quickly escapes any throwaway pop labels. Live sets like this one seem to come to her quite easily and sure is something to admire.