I’ve been to quite a few concerts this summer and looking back, it’s funny to think about the differences in the crowds.

At Britney Spears, there were gay men in glittery eyeshadow and booty shorts all around me. At Jack’s Mannequin and Guster, the audience consisted of suburban white kids with backwards baseball caps, flip-flops and far too many popped collars. And at Sara Bareilles’ sold out show last night at Central Park’s outdoor Rumsey Playfield venue, the crowd was comprised entirely of hipsters in thrift store-purchased 500 Days of Summer-inspired floral print dresses and PBR-stained moccasins.

“How many of you are you listening to the show outside of the venue?” Sara yelled into her microphone. “This one’s for you!” she proclaimed as she started beating her tambourine and eased into an immaculate cover of Mumford and Sons’ “Little Lion Man.”

The experience of a Sara Bareilles show is unlike any other concert I’ve been to. This is of course in large part due to the fact that Bareilles is a hypnotist of sorts who is able to manipulate the full spectrum of her audience’s emotions. While interacting with the crowd, she bursts with wit, sarcasm and dry humor. But when she breaks into song, her lyrics tell agonizing stories of loss and pain.

For example: One minute Sara will be singing the devastating “Breathe Again” (you know, the song that pretends its orchestration is not a carbon copy of the Titanic score), and the next minute she’ll be introducing what’s on deck by saying, “This song’s for those assholes who think they’re better than you. The ones who are like, ‘oh Sara, you drink too much,’ and you’re just like ‘FUCK YOU, MAN!’” Oh, and if you’re wondering what “this song” she’s referring to is, it’s “Basketcase” – a ballad with lyrics raw enough to be served as a tartar. Talk about emotional rollercoaster. Geesh.

But don’t get me wrong. Not all of Sara’s songs will have you reaching for razor blades. Throughout the duration of her 90-minute set, she sprinkled in animated upbeat tracks like the bouncy “Uncharted” the anthem-of-spontaneous-living, “Vegas,” and a funky cover of Amy Winehouse’s “Valerie.” She also played bluesy-reworked versions of “Come Round Soon” and “Bottle It Up,” which enhanced the songs’ jazz undertones and flared them into smoky nightclub tunes to puff your cigar to on the dimly lit set of your own personal noir film.

During her acapella performance of “Gravity,” Sara allowed her truly stunning voice to take center stage. Even the drunk dude behind me (who was later escorted away by security during “Love Song” for being too belligerent…seriously) found a way to stop falling on strangers and be moved by Sara’s hauntingly beautiful voice. Sara really has the type of major pipes that few other contemporary female singer/songwriters can rival.

As part of her encore, Sara played a new track by the title, “Beautiful Girl.” Inspired by the tough experiences that some younger girls in her family are currently facing (as well as her own former issues), the song found the chanteuse plucking away at her ukulele with Jason Mraz-ish fervor.

While the message of “Beautiful Girl” is very much on par with the theme of self-empowerment that’s taken over the charts recently (i.e. P!nk’s “Fuckin’ Perfect” and Selena Gomez’ “Who Says”), its lyrics make “Firework” fizzle out and completely abort “Born This Way.”

“So before you trade in your summer skin for those high heel shoes to make him want to be with you, let me remind you one more time that just maybe you’re beautiful, but you can’t see / So why don’t you just trust me they’ll see it too, you beautiful girl, you?” Sara gorgeously sang. Could a new album already be in the works?

To close the show, Sara played “Let The Rain,” my personal favorite track off of her #1 album, last fall’s Kaleidoscope Heart. If you haven’t heard this song, open the iTunes store and buy it right now. Seriously. If you don’t like it, then I think you and I should see other people.

And if you can, be sure to catch Sara on the remainder of her fall tour, now through the end of October. I promise you won’t be disappointed.

As the countdown trails to zero and the lights plummet into total darkness, the screen above the stage fills with the image of Spears–the Femme Fatale. Brandishing a gun, she feverishly bolts past security cameras; her signature blonde locks bobbing up and down as she scales barbed-wire fences and shoots at her pursuers as only a true Badassney could.

She is escaping–running away from a S.W.A.T. team, while deliciously dolled up in a full glitz outfit. (Don’t all super sexy assassins incorporate a little glitter into their wardrobe?)

Ultimately she’s caught at some point and wrestled to the ground, kicking and screaming all the way down. But as she’s unwillingly slammed over the hood of a police car, she glares mischievously into the windshield at us and purrs seductively: “I’m not that innocent.”

Just at that moment, the screens above the stage immediately begin to split in half and smoke pours from within as the Holy Spearit herself comes rolling in on a giant metal “Hold It Against Me” platform. Glittering, though still to dark to see her, she stands locked and loaded–awaiting the moment as the driving beat starts to pulsate through the arena. And then, although no one could possibly hear it above all the shrieking, she fires: “Hey, over there…”

—

Last night, Britney Spears brought The Femme Fatale Tour to Boston’s TD Banknorth Garden. And finally–after two agonizing years of waiting–it was time to see my idol (again). But first: The opening acts.

Kicking off the night, Jersey Shore‘s DJ Pauly D took to the ones and twos with his signature glossy, gluestick-y up-do to bust out some club jams. While the general public has basically scoffed off the idea of Pauly D DJ’ing anything (except for the old skank next to me who slurred “Oh, I’d fack him in uh sssecond!”), the offerings were inoffensively enjoyable (if not obvious for the night’s crowd), including remixes of David Guetta, Katy Perry and Rihanna. Five minutes into his set and my entire crew was fist pumping, beating the beat and pounding the floor. By the time Pauly exited the stage that evening, I felt ever-so-slightly more tan (and also oddly craving pickles.) Success!

Next up was the Harajuku Barbie: Mizz Nicki Minaj. Now, Ms. Maraj and I have had a bit of a falling out as of late because of her lackluster debut, Pink Friday. (I’m sorry–I still don’t care for it.) That being said, I was one of her biggest supporters when her mixtapes first started rolling out (I still get bodied to “I Get Crazy” and “Itty Bitty Piggy” on the daily!), so I really hoped the rapstress would shine tonight–and she most certainly DID.

From the absolute massacre that is her almighty verse on “Monster” to her current Billboard smash “Superbass,” Minaj transformed the Femme Fatale stage into a fun, feisty Good vs. Evil battle between Minaj and her arch-nemesis: The cleverly named Nemesis (who–unless I’m mistaken, is actually just Jigsaw from Saw.)

Cue flashlight gun battles, some sweet karate kicks and even a quick round of Musical Chairs, and you’ve got one fast-paced, mile-a-minute explosion of hard-hitting rap verses (“Bottoms Up”), sweetly sung pop hits (“Save Me”) and arena-thumping club jams (“Where Them Girls At?”). I’m proud of you, Nicki–you seriously turned it out!

At long last, after a 40-minute countdown, the main attraction was here: The Holy Spearit had arrived.

Like the albums they represent, if the Circus Tour was a safe return to form, the Femme Fatale Tour is the riskier, edgier next step into the future for Britney.

Backed by technicolor boomboxes (“Big Fat Bass”), massive viking-like vessels (“Gimme More”) and a giant, hulking metallic structure (“Till The World Ends”), Godney worked through about 20 of her best and brightest pop tunes–a relentlessly hard-hitting set of souped-up signature songs, as well as her newest offerings–in her own strange, twisted post-apocalyptic world.

While some of the more beloved Britney concert classics such as “Breathe On Me” and “Everytime” have gone missing on this go-around, exciting newer additions–including “Up ‘N’ Down” and “Trouble For Me”–have now taken their place. (However, two numbers that appeared earlier in the tour–Femme Fatale bonus track “He About To Lose Me” and the cover of Madonna‘s “Burning Up”–were nixed and sorely missed this evening.)

From the very first sequence, the frenzied storyline of the Femme Fatale Tour is absolutely to die for; the embodiment of what the Femme Fatale era symbolizes. Unlike the whimsical storytelling plot of Dream Within A Dream or even the somewhat scatterbrained Onyx Hotel mixture of sex and silly antics, the Femme Fatale Tour takes Britney’s fans to the darkest stretches of Spears’ imagination yet. (Think of Circus Tour‘s wicked “Sweet Dreams” interlude as the appetizer to the night’s full entree.)

Throughout the night, we watch as the living legend stealthily fights her way across the world while being hunted down by a menacing stalker. He’s holed up in a creepy basement; the walls lined with news clippings and photographs of the pop icon, yet another addition to Britney’s seemingly endless supply of blurred reality/fantasy imagery.

Though hard to hear above all the earth-shattering screams, the interludes were major pulse-quickening moments that kept the action up in between each outfit change. While I wouldn’t want to give the whole plot away, the greatest moment of all comes just shy of the kimono-and-parasol-peppered, Japanese-flavored “Toxic” performance, as the venomous vixen pays an unexpected visit to her stalker’s chateau and gives him a taste of his own medicine. “You’ve been a bad boy.” Deliciously sinister! More chills…

But between all the murderous intent, the Femme Fatale Tour is chock full of good ol’ frivolous fun: “How I Roll,” one of the night’s most gleeful moments, sees Lady B pop, lock and twerking across the stage onto her hot pink B-GIRL mobile, before leading into “Lace & Leather,” as the sensual seductress took a moment to show off her derriere (usually found in the magazines) while wrapping a hot pink boa (and her legs!) ’round an incredibly lucky gent’s neck for an all-too-brief striptease. (It was a friend of mine, no less–Pete of Dean-Kelly!)

Later on came “If U Seek Amy,” which found Brit Brit channeling her ever-pesky tabloid drama on stage, snapping and posing in a signature Marilyn Seven Year Itch white gown while as hungry, hungry paps eagerly try to snap pictures at her side. OUTTA MY WAY, PAPARAZO!

But apart from the tour’s opening (and closing) moment, “Gimme More” is quite possibly the tour’s most epic moment of all: Although she’s now gone on to perform the song over twenty times on tour since the dreaded 2007 VMA’s, each night’s performance looks and feels like the Queen’s grand rebirth. The song’s production–now given an Egyptian/Middle Eastern flair with a lush “Get Naked” instrumental sheen–is so monumental that it might as well have served as the concert’s opening.

As pyramids filled the screens and two soldiers brandishing giant golden “B”-shaped rods rose from the smoky floor, an almighty chant of “More!” filled the stadium before the immortal words were spoken: “It’s Britney, bitch.” CHILLS.

Other genius (and somewhat underrated) moments of the show included Brit’s biker chick rendition of her 1998 hit “…Baby One More Time,” which led the enchanting mistress to take a cue from her “I Love Rock ‘N’ Roll” video and getting rowdy on a couple of motorcycles (Vroom, vroom!), as well as the following segue into her springtime smash remix with Rihanna (“S&M”) and Femme Fatale‘s “Trouble For Me.”

“Boys,” which has hardly snagged a mention in the reviews I’ve seen–is actually a hugely sexy moment on this tour. Dressed in a slinky gold robe, Britney played the snake-charming temptress, working her way across the stage to an impossibly fuck-me-silly mix of the song before leading one of her fit musclemen dancers directly into her–err, pit of vipers. (Right, Simon Curtis?)

And of course, there’s “Womanizer”–or more importantly, THAT FALL. After a long stretch of choreography, Brit Brit takes a cue from Miss RuPaul‘s Drag Race and takes a suicide dive into a luscious free-fall back bend on a rotating platform in the center of the catwalk. It’s one of the tour’s best (and most camera-worthy) moments! O-p-u-l-e-n-c-e.

In the end, everyone seems to want to ask the same thing: Is she back? In short: Yes, I think so. She look engaged. She looks focused. She also looks genuinely happy to be there. Was it 100% live? Honestly, I doubt it. The vocals were definitely new in places, but not really. I really couldn’t be care less about the whole lip-synch debate before, and I certainly don’t care now: She delivered an incredible show.

The dancing–though it’ll never return to the level that it once was from her ’99-’04 reign–was given some much-needed umph for this tour (the nearly faithful delivery of the original “I’m Slave 4 U” choreography is nothing short of a small miracle), and her crowd engagement has definitely improved tenfold. There’s plenty of waving and pointing out into the crowd this time around…she even calls out to the audience several times!

Everyone was having an incredible time–Britney herself included, and the entire night was just unabashedly FUN: Seeing the entire stadium jumping in unison to “I Wanna Go,” hearing the howling chants of “Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!” from “Till The World Ends” ricochet throughout the arena…there are simply no words. (Err…plenty actually, judging by this review.)

The Femme Fatale Tour is the perfect representation of why I love Britney Spears, why she’ll forever be my #1 and why there’s a “Daily B” section devoted exclusively to the icon on MuuMuse. The reasons were all there on that stage: Every strut, every smoldering stare and–of course–every hair flip. (OW!) She is quite simply my everything–my joy, my inspiration and my main muse, and her latest tour only bolsters my staunch belief in her as The Ultimate Pop Star.

“The bitch is back and better than ever,” she told V Magazine in March. After seeing the show last night, who could possibly disagree with that?

Me, Godney and my BritFFLs!

I LOVE YOU, BRITNEY. (And apparently, she loves me too!)

2011: YEAR OF THE SPEARS.

All photos courtesy of faithful Muuser and BritFFL, Lance H!

As the bright blue LED screens lighting up the Agganis Arena in Boston on Friday night began to fill up with bubbles and the silhouettes of a dozen muscly mermen, a handful of dancers slowly crept up the coliseum staircase and bowed in reverence as a giant structure began to ascend from below.

Was it a gaggles of water nymphs? Poseidon himself, perhaps? Nay, ‘Twas Mighty Aphrodite–Miss Kylie Minogue herself–arriving like the goddess she is for all to see and adore.

With gorgeous stage props, sensational aerial acrobatics and major couture outfits, the Aphrodite Live tour is a much larger production than Kylie’s previous American outing (the For You, For Me tour back in 2009).

Everything about the staging–from the massive boulders, to the coliseum pillars, to every feathery square inch and glittery seam of the costuming–fell perfectly in sync the Greek glamazon theme of the album. It was literally the most perfect concept-to-stage envisioning I’d ever seen in concert form!

Friday night was Kylie’s first US tour date of Aphrodite Live, her massive 2011 spectacle following the release of her latest studio album, Aphrodite. The American leg of the tour is a slightly stripped-down version of the massive arena version over in Europe, which included moving platforms, more aerial stunts and–sigh, even water fountains. (I seriously should have brought my squirt gun!)

The crowd make-up was admittedly a bit puzzling, including a healthy handful of families (with young children!) and even more elderly audience members. And no, I’m not trying to throw shade at any gay over the age of 21 in attendance–I’m talking old, people. Like, walkers and canes territory. (Let’s face it–they were there for “Locomotion.”)

Also, I was sitting two seats directly behind Perez Hilton who appeared to be enjoying himself (although he did leave before the final number). If it’s because he was too busy heading backstage to meet the fair lady, color me pressed and obsessed.

Minogue was, just as she had been during her 2009 visit, pitch-perfect throughout the entire concert, nailing all of her hits (yes, every single one of those high notes–even during “Get Outta My Way,” “I Believe In You” and “On A Night Like This”!).

The legendary songstress paid due respect to her immense back catalog, with a set-list comprising over 24 songs.From the opening (“Aphrodite”) to the euphoric, glittering grand finale (“All The Lovers”), Kylie brought pure drama and glamour to the stage on Friday night, including a gorgeous jazzy rendition of the already sizzling “Slow,” X-era tracks “Wow” and “In My Arms,” a rock-tinged “Can’t Get You Out Of My Head” and even some tiny treats for hardcore fans, including a stunning acoustic performance of “If You Don’t Love Me,” the Prefab Sprout cover and 1994 B-side to “Confide In Me” (which she also sang, along with a stunning video introduction featuring Indie Kylie–or should I say Kylie Noir.)

About midway through the show, Lady K shook out her hair (quite literally–va va voom!), strung a muppet ’round her neck and got her barely-there jean shorts on for a little downtime with the audience and a segue into some of her older hits, including a deliciously celebratory version of “Better The Devil You Know.”

In honor of her first US tour date, Kylie later surprised the crowd during the same segment with a semi-acoustic performance of “Locomotion,” chugging right along on stage the crowd loudly roared in unison.

Highlights were frequent throughout the show, including the opening three numbers (“Aphrodite,” “The One” and “Wow”), as Kylie went from riding chariots and singing alongside human harps to being hand fed grapes from her adoring servants and nymphs between her bouncy, heaven-sent slices of pop perfection.

“Illusion”–one of my personal favorites from Aphrodite–came packaged with an unbelievable Bollywood-inspired dance break. Yes: A dance break. As in, Kylie Minogue actually doing dance moves! I was stunned.

But Kylie aside, the dance troupe themselves truly deserve a special nod. While every major pop concert always comes equipped with some seriously jaw-dropping gymnastics, the Kylie show truly took the art to the next level. The dancer’s moves were simply killer. (And their bodies even more so!) Kudos to you, Tony Testa!

And of course, there was my own personal highlight–”Cupid Boy”–the inspiration behind the tee, as Minogue sashayed down the stairwell in a gorgeous, feathery black gown and a tasteful top hat as dozens of Minogue’s nearly nude male dancers flashed onscreen with bodies that would have Adonis and Hercules positively seething with jealousy. Oh, the very thrill of it!

Aphrodite Live was a delicious blend of larger-than-life theatrics and intimate interaction with the audience. Ever the icon, Kylie Minogue remains one of the most effortlessly graceful and elegant pop divas of our time–and certainly one of the most timeless.

While the show did occasionally stunted by technical limitations in comparison to the grand European Les Folies experience, every second of the Aphrodite Live show remained entirely fabulous and fierce deluxe–some might even go so far as to call it mythical.

For the full set of photos from the show, check out the gallery on the MuuMuse Facebook page. Some photos courtesy of Muuser Eric H. Thanks for joining me to see Mighty Aphrodite in the flesh!

Last Friday, I–along with MuuMuse contributor Sam and one of my bestest bloggy BFFLs Jon of Jon Ali’s Blog–attended ArjanWrites.com’s SUPERFRAICHE at the Galapagos Art Space in Brooklyn.

After a slightly delayed arrival to the showcase (okay, so I programmed the directions to the venue for “walking” by accident. FUCKING SUE ME, JON), the boys and I settled down with a whole troupe of Twitter buddies and pals from OutSpokenNYC just before the show began.

Mr. Arjan of ArjanWrites took to the stage around 9:15 to introduce the first opening act, She’s The Queen–a NYC-based synth-pop duo, followed by a spirited performance by the boys of Databoy, another synth-pop pairing that came equipped with some throbbing, crunchy beats and extra catchy hooks.

Photo courtesy of Gabi Porter/Metromix New York

One cranberry vodka later, Arjan returned to the stage to introduce the boy robot himself: Simon Curtis!

Armed with a professional showman’s style (including Brit Brit-friendly head tosses and arm snaps) and a falsetto vocal range that would have Darren Hayes grinning from ear to ear, Curtis tore through his 20-minute set, delivering a solid mix of songs from both his debut album 8Bit Heart, as well as a few cuts from his upcoming sophomore record RΔ, including “Don’t Dance” and “Pit of Vipers.”

Halfway through the set, Curtis took to the center catwalk to talk to the crowd. “In honor of this week in pop, I wanted to sing a very special song,” he declared, citing it quite possibly his favorite song of all time. Knowing the boy to be as much of a crazed stan as I, it came as no surprise when Curtis began: “Oh baby, baby…how was I supposed to know?” he slowly crooned.

And so the rising pop star led a spirited acoustic rendition of Britney’s iconic debut single, “…Baby One More Time” in honor of Femme Fatale release week as the crowd loudly sung and swayed along. Nothing like filling a room with some B love!

But perhaps the highlight of the night for Curtis was “Enemy,” a relentless, synth-driven club affair. “Don’t let me be your enemy,” he chanted on repeat as the bass pounded through the venue. It’s definitely one of his best cuts yet–a surefire smash from the new record!

Curtis ended his set with the enormously catchy upcoming RΔ track, “Laser Guns Up,” which–as demonstrated every time he’s performed the song live–ended with much of the audience waving their hand guns up in the air and chanting right along with Curtis. Ay, ay, ay!

If you haven’t already, head to Billboard to hear an mini-mix of Simon’s upcoming studio album, or check out his official website.

Photo courtesy of Gabi Porter/Metromix New York

After Curtis cleared the stage (and right after they played Brit’s “Gasoline”–HELLO!), Arjan returned to announce the last act of the night: The ever mesmerizing Sky Ferreira.

Ferreira then wandered onto the stage wearing a simple black skirt and white blouse, as she immediately launched into the flawless debut UK single that first won her so much buzz around the blogosphere: “One.”

And while Ferreira’s vocals are often twisted and distorted on record, the 18-year-old songstress’ incredible voice truly shined as she belted out four cuts, including three songs from her debut EP, As If: “108,” “Traces,” and ending with a bang (literally!) with her current single and CK One campaign theme song, “Sex Rules.”

Playing with her hair in front of her face, mumbling, mischievously grinning and kneeling to the stage, Ferreira worked the stage in her usual Courtney Love-lite, ‘Girl-you-okay?’ kind of way.

And while the 18-year-old songstress was visibly quite nervous, her presence remains utterly undeniable: Only a minute into her first song, the runway was flanked with fans bobbing along and cheering for the tiny, warbling starlet. It was incredible to watch!

Sky’s debut EP, AS IF!, is now available on iTunes. If you’d like to read more about it, check out the MuuMuse review here.

After the show, Jon, Sam and I headed out after the show to eat burgers with Mr. Curtis, his music producer, and the lovely and delightful Tamar of MTV Buzzworthy.

We sincerely hope you enjoyed Brooklyn, Simon! (Also, my sincerest apologies for singing terribly over you during the Britney singalong in the car…)

For more professional photographs from the show, check out the full set courtesy of Gabi Porter/Metromix New York at Arjan’s Facebook page.

Thank you to Arjan of ArjanWrites.com and GUMBO NYC for a fabulous showcase!

On Thursday night, Janet Jackson brought her international Number Ones: Up Close and Personal Tour to Mohegan Sun.

As the Number Ones “Janet” logo flashed across the screen, the iconic spoken word introduction to “Control” began booming overhead: “This is a story about control…my control.” As she continued, a militant beat and damning clock tower bells droned louder and faster. And then–with a bright flash of dazzling colored lights–she appeared center stage; tearing into her 1987 smash hit single, “Pleasure Principle.”

Zipped up in a tight (like, rull tight) sharp-shouldered silver jumpsuit, Miss Janet was looking something ferocious on Thursday night, her boobies a-squeezed and her body looking tight. Added in with newly cropped ‘do, Miss Jackson was simply oozing confidence: Each time she’d knock out a five or six song set, Jackson would stop, stare and pose with every fiber of fierceness in her body–the mark of a true heavyweight entertainer.

Jumping from “Miss You Much” to “Feedback,” “Let’s Wait Awhile” to “Make Me,” and “Control” to “That’s The Way Love Goes,” Jackson’s set was a whirlwind celebration of the legendary performer’s triple decade reign, squeezing in over twenty of her #1 hits in just under an hour and a half.

In fact, it was only while watching Jackson fly through song after song–minute after minute–that one could truly begin to grasp just how many massive hits the singer’s wracked up over her prolific career.

Yet as any Janet fan could tell you, if there’s any one definitive characteristic of a Janet Jackson performance, it’s the choreography. And as always, the singer’s dance moves were simply spot-on: Janet sliced her way through tight, sharp choreography–from the militant steps of “Rhythm Nation” right down to the same exact breakdown routine from the 1993 MTV VMA performance of “If.” To see that electrifying moment recreated right in front of my eyes nearly 20 years later? Indescribable.

Interludes were frequent, including an amazing film reel of Janet’s finest acting moments–resulting in wild whoops from the crowd during scenes from Diff’rent Strokes and Poetic Justice, to fist-pumping cheers during Miss Jackson’s epic golf club-wielding glass table smash-fest during Why Did I Get Married, Too?

Another (less effective) interlude featured a lengthy slide-show of Jackson’s most iconic photographs. And while it’s always nice to see those pictures once again, it was nothing we couldn’t already see featured within the dozens of YouTube slideshows put together by Jackson’s hardcore fans.

As part of the Number Ones: Up Close and Personal Tour, Janet dedicates one of her #1 hits to each city she visits while on tour. So what was the choice track of the night for Mohegan? “Nasty,” which also happens to be arguably my favorite Janet Jackson song of all time. This, of course, was nothing short of destiny. “This is for you, Mohegan!” Jackson shouted before launching into the almighty jam. DEAD.

If there’s any criticism to be made about the show (aside from the lack of “All Nite (Don’t Stop)”…devastated!), it would be that the actual staging wasn’t entirely up to par with the sheer magnitude of the event.

While this particular tour is designed to be a more intimate affair (smaller venues, stripped down production), I still felt like the overly minimal stage–not much more than a few instruments and flashing lights–didn’t entirely pay due reverence to the magnitude of Jackson’s legend. Still, the icon thoroughly worked it out, making the lack of bells and whistles seem all the more irrelevant in the long run.

While most of the show was a hard-hitting display of Jackson’s finest up-tempo numbers, the BPM dropped midway through for a proper comedown. Perched on top of a stool, Jackson delivered a 1-2-3 punch of some of her biggest ballads–including “Again,” “Let’s Wait Awhile,” and her latest offering, “Nothing”–as the crowd lovingly swayed and sang along.

Throughout the night, the singer also teased the crowd with quick tastes of dozens of her other tracks cleverly mixed between her mega-mix performances–from the opening notes of “Rope Burn” in one moment, to a sudden, furious performance of the “What About” chorus by the back-up singers only seconds later.

At one point, the funky horn and early ’90′s club beats of “Throb” came pulsating in as Jackson delivered a signature cackle. But just as I began quivering and flailing all over the place–a transition to another song! The purest definition of a cock-tease.

After about an hour into the set, Jackson gave her faux-goodbyes and trotted off-stage. The house lights stayed dim as the crowd began cheering for an encore. And after a dozen or more rallying cries of “Janet! Janet!” the singer returned, decked out in an all-white suit for “Diamonds,” leading all the way into her final selection of the night, “Together Again.”

As she launched into the song’s final chorus, a series of photographs featuring Janet and Michael suddenly flashed onscreen. The crowd roared as Jackson–closing her eyes–tilted her head upward and raised her hands high to the sky. It was an incredibly touching moment (I got a bit verklempt), and undoubtedly the most personal moment of the entire night. “Be safe, I love you!” Jackson shouted between toothy smiles and air kisses before disappearing offstage for the final time.

Janet is (or rather, was) one of the only living legends I’d yet to see perform. To have finally gotten to witness the Jackson experience live? I’m still not over it.

In under two hours, Jackson proved just why she is a true icon, why she’s got a double-disc of #1 smash hits under her belt and why her pop legacy will continue to live on for decades to come. She’s one of the industry’s seasoned veterans–a world-class entertainer, and one of the greatest of our time.

In short: Perfection!

Last night marked Lady Gaga‘s final sold-out performance at Madison Square Garden on The Monster Ball Tour 2011.

The show, the second of two nights taped for Gaga’s upcoming HBO special in May, was a nearly two and a half-hour extravaganza, as Lady Gaga and her friends traversed the gritty, ghoulish streets of an imagined New York City in an attempt to get to the greatest party in the world: The Monster Ball–all while battling car breakdowns in Brooklyn, bad reception and giant tentacle monster attacks (totes hate when that happens) along the way.

As this would be my third time attending The Monster Ball Tour (once per year, as the bitch has toured for three years straight and Lord knows I’ve got nothing better to do with my time), little has changed since my last experience at Madison Square Garden back in July. Therefore, you’ll want to read that review for a more thorough song-by-song analysis of the show as much of last night’s show was exactly the same.

Along with the reliably spirited crowd (I saw at least one meat dress, an EggGa and several Coca-Cola can curlers!), a few starlets peppered the audience last night, including Lady Bunny (whose gigantic cotton-candy shaped wig could be spotted from even the highest nosebleed sections), actress Marisa Tomei, and yes–the legendary Liza Minnelli.

Throughout the night, the flawless 64-year-old diva sat gleefully waving to starstruck audience members while clearly pretending not to hear my impassioned cries of “SING ‘DON’T DROP BOMBS’!!!” from across the arena. Bitch.

And so the Monster Ball began, as Gaga worked her way through the incredible set of tight, top-notch choreography and stellar vocal delivery: From the opening vogue of “Dance In The Dark” to “Just Dance,” to a keytar solo, to the Vomi-Gaga video interlude, to the rave-ready “LoveGame” dance breakdown, to the arena rock balladry of “Speechless and “You & I,” to the Living Dress performance of “So Happy I Could Die,” to the Fame Monster showdown with “Paparazzi,” to “Bad Romance” and all the way down to her current hit, “Born This Way.”

During the piano ballad section of the night (you know, when she wasn’t standing on the keyboard while playing her guitarist’s guitar with the other heel and simultaneously pulling his hair), Gaga took the opportunity to call out Minnelli and Tomei between the verses of “You & I” to regale the audience with stories about their influence on her upbringing while studying at theater school. She went to Tisch, you know!

“They’d say to me, ‘Well, your voice is too pop for theater, but too theatrical for pop,’” Gaga recalled using her thickest New York accent. “So I’d say, ‘Well, what about Liza?’” The crowd roared back with their approval.

Despite none of the rumored collaborations (no Beyoncé during “Telephone,” nor Elton, and much to my chagrin, no iconic Madonna “Express Yourself”/”Born This Way” wig snatching mash-up that I envisioned in my pop dreams), Gaga still managed to deliver 110% of the time–the energy, the dancing, and most definitely the vocals.

“I’m not going to waste your fucking time. I never lip-synch,” Gaga growled at one point during “Teeth,” “…especially when Liza’s watching.” I have no fucking idea what she’s going on about, I thought to myself as I looked down and stroked my Blackberry’s screen; Britney prominently displayed as my wallpaper.

Of course, new to this year’s Monster Ball set was her latest anthem, “Born This Way”–a song unquestionably best served live. “I hope this song and this record will bring us to you this year,” Gaga proclaimed before launching into a very loud, fairly indulgent acoustic rendition of the song backed by three soul singers.

The gospel moment didn’t last long (somewhat mercifully, as it really was a bit too loud), Gaga’s stage was soon swarming with a dozen latex-wrapped back-up dancers; the “Born This Way” ’90′s booming house beat echoing through the stadium. “It doesn’t matter if you love him, or capital H-I-M,” the singer began before launching into the same stomping, hi-NRG performance as the one delivered during this year’s Grammy Awards–from the dramatic death organ solo to the clenched monster paw finale.

Thus concluded Gaga’s first-ever taped concert special, which is set to air on HBO on May 7.

As a performer, no one comes close to touching Gaga right now. She dominates as both the epitome of a pop star and the quintessential rock star, and The Monster Ball is the culmination of both her talent and pure passion as a singer, musician, actress, dancer, activist and pop culture phenomenon.

For those who’ve yet to experience The Monster Ball in the flesh, you’re in luck: Within just a few months, you’ll finally get to see why this New York City-bred girl’s gone from Stefani Germanotta playing at The Bitter End in 2006 to Lady Gaga, internationally renowned superstar, in just five year’s time.

Her detractors are quick to dismiss her as a tiring, fleeting copycat. Her little monsters are quick to dub her as the new Queen of Pop. Yet no matter where she ultimately comes to be placed in the overall spectrum of pop royalty, The Monster Ball Tour is concrete proof that Lady Gaga is one of, if not the most talented, hard-working and entertaining pop star of today…and there’s no doubt in my mind that she was born that way.

And now some pictures, all courtesy of MuuMuse’s Professional Monster Ball Tour Accompanier, Parker F. Enjoy!

As the strobe lights began to flicker faster and faster to their dizzying, epilepsy-inducing speed, the deafening sound of a rocket touching down to Earth roared into the speakers of Radio City Music Hall on Saturday night.

And for the third time in less than a year, I found myself smack dab in the middle of Robyn‘s crash landing onto American shores for her third major headlining North American tour.

Photo courtesy of Chris La Putt for Brooklyn Vegan.

But before Robyn’s performance on Saturday night, resident bad ass bitch Natalia Kills took to the stage to open the showcase promptly at 8 PM.

Sporting a darling new shorter do, the weapon-wielding vixen whirled through a breakneck series of tracks from her long awaited debut album The Perfectionist, including “Love Is A Suicide” and “Wonderland.”

To my great delight, Kills opened her set with a partial performance of her incredible acoustic take on lead single, “Mirrors,” which was just as gorgeous as the Cherrytree House Live session. (Martin, I’m still waiting for the sheet music for this one!)

And while I’ve said this each time I’ve seen her live, I really do believe she’s only improved with each show. She’s more confident than ever. Now unleash the album, bitch!

Photo courtesy of Chris La Putt for Brooklyn Vegan.

Then Diamond Rings took to the stage, and…well, I’d rather not discuss the experience. Or the American Apparel gold lamé leggings. Well–alright, fine: Un-listenable, intolerable. Absolutely devoid of entertainment value. Like a bad Bowie impersonation laid on top of a middling-to-hot bass beat. Come on Kills, couldn’t you just come back on stage for a few more songs? But seriously…no.

Photo courtesy of Chris La Putt for Brooklyn Vegan.

At around 9:30, Robyn finally strolled out onto the stage onto the stage of Radio City Music Hall–which she would later announce as the largest venue she’s ever performed–to the loud cheers and screams of a cast of colorful characters.

Is that the right phrase? Colorful characters? I mean, okay–first of all: It was all gays. That’s kind a given–it’s a Robyn show. As Gawker‘s Richard Lawson tweeted that night: “If Facebook status updates are any indication, the Robyn concert is gay people’s Woodstock.”

And oh, how right he was. The flowing, ‘earthy’ garbs! The leather and studs! The eight-foot tall drag queens decked out in full Renaissance attire and powdered wigs! So much attitude, so many lisps whipping through the wind riding through the air attached to some snarky side comment. Never one to be described as a subtle bunch, the New York City glitterati brought it. Hard.

Being that I’ve now experienced Robyn thrice in less than a year, little has changed since The All Hearts Tour and her show in November: Same pinwheels whirling on stage, same mad scientist band members, same bass-heavy breakdowns, and (mostly) the same song selections–albeit with brand new inclusions from the third installment of the Body Talk series. (But no banana munching during “Don’t Fucking Tell Me What To Do”! Still bitter about it.)

Robyn worked her way through 18 of her songs on Saturday night, from her trademark sad disco stompers (“Dancing On My Own,” “The Girl And The Robot,” “With Every Heartbeat”), to Body Talk staples (“Hang With Me,” “Indestructible”) to her bossier crowd pleasers (“Dancehall Queen,” “Konichiwa Bitches”) and of course, a final, gorgeous acoustic take on her major 1997 smash hit single, “Show Me Love” (the version mixed with a touch of ABBA‘s “Dancing Queen”) to wrap up her second encore.

Throughout her set, the Swede-pop chanteuse wildly bounded back and forth across the stage in a massive pair of platform Timberland sneakers and white and green leggings, all the while flailing her arms in that adorably unique manner only Robyn can successfully pull off without looking like a fool.

In fact, she was a complete goofball throughout the night, perhaps more than any night I’ve witnessed her perform thus far: Shaking and shimmying, fist pumping, and wildly jumping up and down (so much so that she ended up taking a brief spill during “Love Kills”–but not to worry, she was back up and bouncing within seconds!)

Photo courtesy of Chris La Putt for Brooklyn Vegan.

Then again, she had reason to celebrate, as tonight marked a new personal career milestone: “This is the biggest crowd I’ve ever pulled myself…ever!” she announced victoriously during her first encore, throwing her hands in the air triumphantly as the crowd whistled and yelled.

At long last, Robyn was headlining in front of a crowd of over 5,000 audience members–a vastly deserved and long overdue achievement.

The singer was completely and utterly thrilled–so much so that it seemed as though she was attempting to personally thank everyone in attendance, charging up the stairs on either side of the mezzanine and holding hands with several flailing fairies and fan-girls waiting in earnest at either side of the balcony at two points during the night.

Yet while Robyn commanded most of my attention that night, it was the commentary offered by the larger gentleman seated directly behind me that truly took the experience to the next level of amazeballs.

Blessed/cursed with a shrill, piercing voice recalling that of Ross Mathews (of Chelsea Lately panelist fame), the emotionally overcome man was at the ready with supportive, sassy words of encouragement to yell at the Swedish chanteuse all night long: Whether she was grinding her hips against the beat of “Dancehall Queen” (“POP THAT PUSSY, BITCH!”), shimmying her shoulders to “Fembot” (“SHAKE THEM TITTIES, GIRL!”), or weaving her arms together during “Dancing On My Own” (“SNAKE ARMS. SNAKE ARMS. WORK IT. UH!”), Robyn’s unofficial cheerleader was on the job.

Once “Love Kills” came booming into the speakers, he simply couldn’t go on any further. “I CAN’T. I CAN’T!” he shrieked, his hands madly fluttering to his heart, then into the air, then to his face, and back again to his heart.

By the end of the night, I really couldn’t tell what hurt more: My feet from the dancing or my stomach from the laughing. Either way, it was everything I wanted.

Once again, Robyn staged an incredible show. The only drawback of this latest performance was its lack of older tracks on the set-list. (I would have loved to hear “Be Mine,” “Handle Me” or “Who’s That Girl?” one more time!)

Then again, she’s never been one to fuss much about the past. “I don’t like romanticizing about the future, and I don’t like being romantic about the past, either. I think that the present time is what’s most interesting,” she recently told Time Out New York. Accordingly, the show’s set-list included a healthy sampling of her most recent material to date.

Photo courtesy of Chris La Putt for Brooklyn Vegan.

Set-list aside, Robyn proved (once again) exactly why she’s truly one of the best live pop acts in the game right now. Solid vocals, gobs of stage presence, and a raw performance energy evocative of Like A Virgin-era Madonna.

There’s a reason I’ve made the effort to catch her at every opportunity possible: Robyn puts out incredible pop, but provides an even more incredible show. In the absence of a single outfit change, video interlude, or even an elaborate set, she is simply enough.

Setlist (courtesy of Brooklyn Vegan):

Time Machine
Fembot
Cobrastyle (Teddybears cover)
Dancing On My Own
We Dance to the Beat and Don’t Fucking Tell Me What to Do (Mash Up)
Love Kills
The Girl and the Robot
Indestructible
Call Your Girlfriend
Stars 4 Ever
Encore:
Get Myself Together
Dance Hall Queen
Hang With Me
With Every Heartbeat
Encore Two:
U Should Know Better
Konichiwa Bitches
Dancing Queen Intro (ABBA cover)
Show Me Love

On Wednesday night, Natalia Kills, Maluca and Robyn took to the stage at Terminal 5 in New York City.

This is what transpired.

Photo taken by Andrew St. Clair for Brooklyn Vegan.

First up to perform was my bloody valentine, Miss Natalia Kills.

The brooding seductress took to the stage around 7:40 P.M. to work her way through the same set as the one I caught the week before Halloween at the PopJustice/High Rise showcase in Brooklyn–a killer whirlwind of five tracks from her upcoming album: “Zombie,” “Wonderland,” “Free,” “Love Is A Suicide,” and lead single, “Mirrors.”

The macabre act translated well on a larger stage, as Kills’ sinfully luscious dancers finally had room to strut and spin in full force around the singer. And slowly but surely, the props just kept coming: Masks, axes, leather and cuffs–just a few of my favorite things!

Oh Natalia, you absolutely slay me each and every time.

Photo taken by Andrew St. Clair for Brooklyn Vegan.

About twenty minutes later, Maluca took to the stage with two dancers flanked in “Parental Advisory” over-sized sweatshirts and dark shades shouting in what sounded like devil tongue. Seeing as I’d never seen or heard her before, my reaction was simple: WHO DA FUCK IS DIS BITCH?!

Then she started performing.

Like a cross between Arular-era M.I.A., Flesh Tone-era Kelis, and a whole lot of random musical influences in between (Janelle Monae and Santigold come to mind), Maluca was giving me everything I needed as she raced through a breakneck, WTF-worthy set of hi-octane Diplo-fied beats and dutty lyrics.

“My hair weighs like five pounds…that’s heavier than your left nut. I’m doing this shit for YOU,” she growled to the crowd at one point, working up and down the stage and whipping around some sort of furry hair rope. I had no idea what the fuck was going on (which you can blame on three hours of sleep and delusions of grandeur), but I was l-o-v-i-n-g (and living) every second of it–even the inexplicable cover of Jay-Z/Alicia Keys‘ “Empire State of Mind.” (WATCH)

Then that amazing mess was over, and the crowd started getting randy. Or rather, they turned into a pile of douche-fucks.

Before I even had a chance to practice my epic-bridge-breakdown-fist pump “Dancing On My Own” choreography, about 10 glitter-drenched Ke$ha try-hards and their assorted gays attempted to squeeze their way into my area and/or personal safe zone. Luckily, I know how to push back (and/or snatch an extension), and while my entire outfit was soiled with their tainted slut glitter, I remained firmly on top. (Don’t I always?) Pause. Moving on.

Twenty minutes later, the lights went low and an eerie sound began emanating from the speakers as strobe lights flashed and smoke poured from the stage. What was it? Why, the sound of an intergalactic space-hop princess coming in for a crash landing, of course!

Photo taken by Andrew St. Clair for Brooklyn Vegan.

And so Robyn took to the stage, looking fresh to death as always with her hair side-swooped to perfection, wearing tight white pants and a broad-shouldered blazer. Very scientifically advanced hot mama!

For those who attended the year’s best concert three months ago–The All Hearts Tour (REVIEW)–you’ll be happy to know that Robyn’s second run around the country borrows heavily from herAll Hearts set. She even ate the banana during “Don’t Fucking Tell Me What To Do” again! YASSSS.

Over the course of an hour and a half, the Swedish superstar cycled through her biggest hits and fan favorites, including “Dancing On My Own,” “Hang With Me,” “With Every Heartbeat,” her collaboration with Röyksopp, “Girl And The Robot,” “Dream On,” and “Be Mine.”

The set also benefited from a glossy Body Talk Pt. 2 face-lift, including an oddly romantic, lo-fi re-rub of “U Should Know Better” (the line “Even the Vatican knows better than to fuck with me” has never sounded quite so charming), “Love Kills” (GAYMAZING) and the latest single off of Pt. 3, “Indestructible.”

After about an hour of some serious body rockin’ and hip tossin’, Robyn bowed out (well, for the first time of the night anyway) with one of her greatest tracks to experience live: “With Every Heartbeat.” (WATCH)

Photo taken by Andrew St. Clair for Brooklyn Vegan.

But as any seasoned concert-goer ought to know, it ain’t over until the lights come up. They didn’t, and within just a few seconds, she was taking to the stage for the second–and then later–a third time.

“You are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen,” Robyn started to sing slowly to the crowd’s loud approval. It was a cover of ABBA‘s shining disco classic, “Dancing Queen.” But before anyone could slip into their bell-bottoms, Robyn quickly transitioned into a nearly acapella rendition of her 1997 smash, “Show Me Love.” (WATCH)

The classic was most definitely a hit: Directly in front of me, a girl began to seize madly with an indescribable excitement, reaching out to Robyn and then back to her boyfriend and then back to Robyn in disbelief. “You’re the one that I ever needed,” the singer crooned as the crowd sang loudly–nearly drowning her out in the process.

After the extended singalong, it was clear that this was–at last–the actual last song. “Goodnight New York, I love you!” she shouted for the millionth time to an audience, as dozens of fans greeted her with their hands raised and cupped in the shape of a heart. All Hearts, part deux!

Photo taken by Andrew St. Clair for Brooklyn Vegan.

Robyn’s is a show that simply cannot be missed; an entertainer wholly worth the price of admission. Her performances are truly, consistently legendary, which is why she remains the most underrated artist in the industry.

Seeing as I’ve now seen and reviewed her three times in the past three months, there’s really not much more I can do or say to further express what an unstoppable force of energy and enthusiasm Robyn is on stage. The woman is a star, ’nuff said.

With one album still to come from the Body Talk series, something tells me this isn’t the last time I’ll be catching her.

Until then, my love!

Setlist (Courtesy of Brooklyn Vegan).

Fembot
Cry When You Get Older
Cobrastyle (Teddybears cover)
Dancing On My Own
We Dance to the Beat
Don’t Fucking Tell Me What to Do
Love Kills
The Girl and the Robot
Indestructible
Dream On
With Every Heartbeat
=======
U Should Know Better
Konichiwa Bitches
Hang With Me
Be Mine
=========
Dancehall Queen
Dancing Queen (ABBA cover)
Show Me Love

My name is Natalia Kills. Tonight, you are all getting killed.

On Wednesday night, Cherrytree Records’ Natalia Kills headlined the PopJustice/High Rise CMJ showcase at The Bell House in Brooklyn.

For faithful Muusers, it’s no secret I’ve always had a soft spot for Miss Kills. She kind of embodies everything I love in film, fashion and music: Dark, macabre style, carnal sexuality, and of course…killer beats.

But taking my own personal taste of the equation (which is sort of silly as this is a review, I digress), it’s clear to see that noise is starting to quickly build around Natalia’s name amongst trendy art magazines and music blogs across the globe, and she proved exactly why tonight.

While we waited to see Miz Kills (and after spilling my drink on myself within the first ten minutes of arriving), my fellow bloggy friends and I (Hard Candy Music and Jon Ali’s Blog) sat watching the other acts on the line-up, including Sky Larkin, Aikiu and Samuel, while the lovely and talented Colleen Nika spun some choice pop cuts in between acts as the resident PopJustice DJ (including a remix of Vanity 6‘s “Nasty Girl” that was absolutely BEYOND and Girls Aloud‘s “Something Kinda Ooooh” at my request–thank you!)

About ten minutes prior to 1 A.M. on early Thursday morning (an appropriately devilish hour), Kills finally came strutting out onto the stage with a duo of fellow femme fatales (or rather her “gang of bad ass bitches” as she described them in an interview with me on Wednesday) donning a fiery red overcoat, thick suede heels, and a pair of metal handcuffs dangling from an inner pocket.

“I’m about to break you,” Kills declared to the crowd as glass shattered into the speakers; the dull, throbbing beat of “Zombie” now quickly began grinding into the venue. All at once and in a flash, the stage was a flurry of black leather, sharp stilettos, and buxom bodies–just the way I like it, actually.

Having just returned from filling the opening spot for Kelis during her tour in Europe this month, Kills came to the stage locked and loaded with a sexy, new confidence and improved stage presence. Unlike the last time I saw her, the entertainer actually had room to work the stage and bust out some moves–a vast improvement from the crowded, awkward affair that was the Prince Peter show during Fashion Week a month ago.

Over the course of about twenty minutes, Kills busted through five tracks from her upcoming debut album (The Perfectionist) including “Wonderland” and “Mirrors” in what must have been one of the most rapid-fire sets I’ve ever seen.

The overcoat was quickly cast away after the first two songs for “Free,” revealing Kills’ Burlesque-ready lingerie. No, but seriously–her body is SICK. Like…out of control sex o’clock. As Jon aptly noted during the performance: “Her body is insane…I hate her.”

As the sharp synths of the Fernando Garibay-produced “Love Is A Suicide” came blazing into the room, my friends and I all looked over at each other with the same “Oh grrrll, now that’s a beat!” grin. The song, which was briefly featured in Episode 4 of the “Love, Kills XX” webisodes is a mega-catchy stormer simply begging to be a single. Please make it so, Camp Kills!

“You can run or you can hide, but sooner or later / It’s gonna cut like a knife, sooner or later,” Kills sang with her fist raised high; looking delightfully crazed with her hair all mussed up. She and her crew tussled onstage, pulling hair, gritting teeth and pointing guns (well, finger guns) in most deliciously brutal of ways. Gorgeous girls, killer heels and deadly intent: What more could a boy ever ask for?

And oh, yes–she whipped her hair back and forth. Repeatedly…and with FEELING.

After this showcase, I remain more convinced than ever that Natalia Kills is going to be BIG in 2011. Even if the crowd’s numbers dwindled as the night moved into the early morning hours, Kills still delivered a performance worthy of selling out the venues in Europe she’s been playing with Kelis (and soon stateside with Robyn in November).

As a result, you can safely continue to assume she’s still on top of my “Most Anticipated” list.

Oh, and don’t let all the gore and glamour fool you–she’s a total sweetheart in person! Just don’t tell her I told you so.

Some photos and footage courtesy of Jon Ali’s Blog and official MuuMuse bodyguard, life coach and part-time pool boy, Parker F. Thank you!

The Perfectionist will be released in early 2011. “Mirrors” was released on August 10. (iTunes)

Last October, Ellie Goulding performed “Under The Sheets” on Later…with Jools Holland for the first time on British television. She appeared visibly nervous, concealed underneath what was then her trademark hooded sweatshirt, as her voice stuttered and cracked as if struggling to find the right note.

It’s hard to believe that the girl in that performance was the same one on stage Thursday night.

Just one year later, the singer came sauntering out on stage for her debut showcase in New York City with a cool new air of confidence. With her golden tresses now hanging free from concealment and her midriff bared in a lace (yet tasteful!) top, she displayed none of the nerves from her first televised performance. In fact, might I dare say, Ellie Goulding was giving us some new-found sex appeal.

The night’s set list was essentially a scattered version of her debut album (Lights), albeit with a few covers thrown in by Temper Trap (“Sweet Disposition”) and Midlake (“Roscoe”). Not only did she hit all the same notes as the studio versions, but she easily surpassed them, improvising riffs that displayed the full, untapped potential of Goulding’s weird, warbling vocals (sounds like an insult; totally isn’t.)

While I was expecting the show to be fantastic, I don’t think I could have anticipated the energy that was to come from the rising UK pop starlet: Goulding utterly commanded the small stage at Hiro Ballroom, thrashing around with her guitar, whirling her hair, and throwing her head back to unleash a full-bellied howl at least four or five times throughout the night. When the lyrics got bitter, she snarled; when they got emotional, her signature shaky vibrato broke each syllable of her words.

Between songs, Goulding was adorably warm and humble, cracking jokes at her own expense and winning the audience’s affections quickly. Since she was feeling a but under the weather with an ear problem, she took a couple breaks to take a sip from her drink (“apple juice–just apple,” she’d unconvincingly repeat to us) and chat with the audience.

“I know a lot of you guys know me from my stuff over in the UK,” she began at one point as the bulk of the crowd began to cheer, “And then you other people who are here–um, I don’t really know why you’re here,” she giggled along with the audience. “But that’s great! It’s great.”

While it was an amazing show throughout, the greatest performance of the night (aside from the encore’s surging performance of “Starry Eyed”) came during her album’s closing song, “Salt Skin.”

Aside from providing spot-on delivery, Goulding took the track to another level by pulling out a pair of drumsticks and going to town on what was an utterly killer drum solo. At that point, the entire crowd turned quiet as she launched into her brief frenzy, seemingly awestruck (you could tell as the camera’s came fumbling out from every direction), and at last bursting into an eruption of cheers upon the final few bangs. (Watch the video above–it’s a must!)

Before tonight, I’d always maintained a quiet skepticism that Ellie Goulding might not have been more than a one-time pet project on behalf of producer Starsmith than a talent in her own right. That doubt has since been squelched.

With one of her first performances in America, the winner of the BBC’s Sound of 2010 proved why her name is deservedly attached to that title–and how capable she is of continuing to soar as a star for years to come.