Pink

At first sight, this might seem like a mismatch of hideous proportions. While Pink is attempting to move on as an artist by exploring the darker regions of her soul, her audience – 80% of whom are teenage girls decked out in fluorescent whistles and flashing deely boppers – are still rooted firmly in the world of POP. But there’s more to all of this than meets the eye.

The show is straight down the middle rock – complete with LA punk backing band, suitably muddy sound quality and little in the way of showy visuals. Not that it bothers the assembled masses, who react to every moment with a rush of youthful hysteria and a barrage of cuddly toys.

For a while, Pink is just not able to match the din, her vocals lost in the mix and the material unable to repeat the opening bounce of ‘Get This Party Started’. Gradually, however, she rises to the occasion.

The show is not short of surreal moments, where the collision of pop and rock throws out the odd shockwave. Her Janis Joplin medley not only proves she has a far stronger voice than you might imagine but also gives the opportunity to pay visual tribute to a range of dead rock stars, from Kurt Cobain (cue massed cheers) to Karen Carpenter (massed bemusement). While she sensibly plays down the angst ridden rock star aspect, an impassioned ‘Family Portrait’ proves that it isn’t all just for show.

The crowd have come here to party and party they do, even if it is to a song about pills and morphine. When Pink returns, stripped half naked and wrapped in an Irish flag for the encore, it is hard not to be genuinely carried away by it all – especially when The Point takes over on ‘Don’t Let Me Get Me’ (particularly the ‘damn Britney Spears’ bit) and makes it it’s own; an anthem to teenage isolation.

In the battle for the hearts and minds of the current MTV generation, the bias is steadily moving to the side of the good and nights as stunning as this can only advance the cause.