Gig Review: Robyn

Gig Review: Robyn

Why is Robyn not one of the biggest popstars in the world like Lady Gaga? We don't know. Perhaps she forgot to tick a box on the application form. Perhaps it's because she doesn't wear dresses made of meat (or dresses that show her meat). Perhaps pop, as we've been warned, is all one big terrible conspiracy and its all rubbish and we should grow up and get a proper hobby.

But watching her tear through a set of all-killer, futurepop smashes (and future pop classics) - all of which were released in the last couple of years and all of which would be worthy of Prince at his most economic best, we're very glad we're not a big record company mogul as we'd have surely signed Robyn for several million pounds, utterly convinced we couldn't lose.

This particular Robyn gig is one of those Myspace Secret Show events, where the audience had to apply for tickets by sending in a memory of a gig they'd been to and then waiting and hoping. We didn't have to do that. But for a gig chiefly populated by competition winners it's surprising to see so many fashionable haircuts. Either that or they all own clippers which broke halfway through the job.

Anyway, since we're in a warehouse-style nightclub, Robyn plays only the dancey songs from her trio of albums called 'Body Talk', plus 'With Every Heartbeat' and 'Be Mine' - two songs that, had Robyn never recorded anything before or since would still make her a better popstar than Cheryl Cole.

There's something about Robyn's live show, with its Japanarama/Blade Runner-esque intro tape and twin metronomic drummers that reminds us curiously of Sigue Sigue Sputnik. In a good way. The songs are all essentially variations on the same theme (again, in a good way) played with music that eschews all but the most computery of sounds - albeit a 21st century version of what people of the past thought computers would sound like, and therefore what they do sound like. The debt to Moroder is clear. This is, if you like, traditional electronic pop.

But what Robyn's songs have over, say, Lady Gaga's is emotion amongst the bleeps, beats and cultural sly winks. These are songs for both unrequited and recently jilted lovers. 'Hang With Me' and 'Dancing On My Own' are the two best pop singles of the year yet for some reason they were not number one for 26 weeks each. We genuinely don't understand why. The last three Robyn albums were better than the last three Madonna albums, or Kylie albums, or Rihanna albums. Where's the justice?