Strutting across the stage, resplendent in a sequined minidress, Estelle Swaray is in a voluble mood. "Am I allowed to swear?" she wonders after her opening song and, without waiting for an answer, does so like the proverbial trooper. She regales us with wickedly funny tales of no-good men: the one who constantly got calls from other girls; the one who refused to call her his girlfriend. The phrase "he had to GO!" crops up more than once, prompting roars of you-go-girl approval (and some nervous male faces) in the audience. "Dickheads!" Estelle exclaims, before launching into an impassioned No Substitute Love.
The mood lightens. Estelle's chat meanders over the recession, YouTube, safe sex ("Wrap! It! Up!") and Barack Obama. Her rude-girl charm is contagious, and she is on especially fine form before her home crowd. The audience, initially subdued by the soulless Indigo2 venue, is soon eating out of her hand.
Musically, what impresses most is how malleable Estelle's material is. Most songs are given a fresh twist: the ballad You Are is transformed into a mambo jam; a spot of party seasoning and a faster tempo get the audience on their feet for Pretty Please, and in the absence of Kanye West, Estelle interpolates a section of Robin S's Show Me Love on American Boy. Particularly resonant in the context of her homecoming is a triumphant rendition of 1980, transporting the audience through time on a whirlwind reminiscence of her life.
With a rapport firmly established, it is Estelle's personality that elevates the show: people may have come loving her music, but when they leave they love her as well.