Dua Lipa review, Olympia Theatre, Dublin: Made for arenas

Rising pop star is a force, and the small stage amplifies her charisma, her tirelessness. She is a machine... but never robotic

Dua Lipa performs in Dublin (Ruth Lally)

Dua Lipa should be exhausted. This is her sixth month of a punishing intercontinental tour schedule. In between shows she’s won two Brit Awards, she’s already working on her new album, and her Calvin Harris collaboration dropped only days ago – phew! But on the stage tonight, the fresh-faced star shows no signs of fatigue.

Accompanied by four sports bra-clad companions, Lipa pays attention to choreography, looking for all the world like she should be conducting a dancercise class on a beach in LA. “Lost in Your Light” and “High” fly by in a flurry of youthful athleticism. Summery urban visuals and hot pink neon lights feel Floridian. Though her London roots do poke through in flashes of Barbican-esque high-rises on the screen behind her, it’s hard to pin down who exactly Lipa is nowadays – the show feels cosmopolitan, grown beyond one place.

Leaping bodily around the stage, Dua undulates effortlessly along every riff, her gorgeously cracking vocals managing to induce tingles even as she whips her head with break-neck enthusiasm (hairography is back, by the way), all without a whisper of breathlessness. At most, her forehead creases slightly in concentration. At one point, she dabs her forehead with a towel. The audience is largely composed of teenagers, but even they seemed awed by her stamina, hanging on her every cheeky smile and wink.

The proceedings slow in the middle to give way to the lesser known tracks from her eponymously-titled debut album. Lipa’s success with dancefloor fillers distracts from the sheer exquisiteness of her voice, which in this small theatre, suddenly looms large. Accompanied only by guitar on “Thinking ‘Bout You”, her husky London lilt recalls another prodigious star – Winehouse.

The melancholy of “Homesick” cuts deep as Lipa stands alone, suddenly, strikingly vulnerable. We remember just how young she is, and wonder how sharp, clever pop writing might evolve with age into something heavier, more profound. At only 22, she has conquered the charts, but it’s apparent she could do much more. With time, she could be timeless.

But tonight, right now is all that matters. Lipa is a force, and the small stage amplifies her charisma, her tirelessness. She is a machine, but never robotic.

Lipa laments the slightly stripped back show, which had to be modified for the small theatre. This was a rollercoaster meant for arenas. But apart from the half-time lull, maybe too drawn out for anyone but a hardcore fan, the show is a joyride. The adoration of the young audience is gleefully infectious.

She closes with “New Rules”, bringing screams from a hysterical crescendo to moans of longing as she slips off stage. The glimpses of an emotional and vocal range as yet not fully tapped are exciting. Limitless potential and a growing army of devoted worshippers mean Lipa is definitely here to stay. But for the moment, with a whip of her newly cropped hair and a flash of dewy skin, she is gone – light as summer air, and just as fleeting.