It takes some guts to put a mannequin on stage and call it your support act. Or a certain level of confidence. Either way, Petal, the name given to the motionless figure placed centre stage while a string of 90s and 00s hits rattled around a packed, sold-out O2 Academy, was a very effective way to get things going. It felt like wandering into a university bar night, banging out hits from Madonna, Lady Gaga and Fergie. The crowd loved it. It kicked the atmosphere up in readiness for the headliner. 

The crowd screamed as Audrey Hobert finally took the stage. Rushing on from the back, she appeared in a very, very long trenchcoat, sporting a fake nose, moustache and glasses, banjo in hand. Perched on a stool, towering over the front rows, she opened with I Like To Touch People. It was certainly an odd image, exaggerated enough to raise a smile but ties in closely with the song’s concerns with performance, people-pleasing and the various versions of ourselves we create and present for others.

Once the costume disappeared, though, a lot of the theatricality went with it. Hobert returned from the side of the stage dressed in black, carrying her mic stand, and settled into the more earnest business of delivering songs from Who’s The Clown?. She is not a performer who fills every available gap with chat. To be honest, there was precious  little in the way of crowd interaction beyond introducing the band. Instead, the songs did most of the talking.

Tracks such as Drive, Bowling Alley and Shooting Star address social anxiety, difficult relationships and the effort of trying to work out which people are genuine and which are fake. For the young, predominantly female crowd, these themes hit home.

Hobert’s lyrics are like poetry when separated from the music, which perhaps explains the earnestness of her delivery. These are deeply held feelings shared with a crowd. There is a vulnerability to putting yourself out there in front of a room full of people, but the fans seemed to understand perfectly well.

Towards the end, a mini-trampoline was dragged onstage for the first of two renditions of Sue Me, introducing another flash of the offbeat humour that’s become something of a viral trend.

The audience themselves were happy, inclusive and kind to each other, creating a really beautiful atmosphere. There was joy in the shared experience, some of which clearly spilled out beyond the venue to the bedroom-rehearsed dance routine finally being given their public outing.

For all its occasional absurdity, this was ultimately a beautifully sincere show. Beneath the costumes, the trampoline and the mannequin DJ, we saw an artist laying out her anxieties with poetic clarity — and a room full of people more than willing to relate to her.

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