George Ezra review, O2 arena, London: ‘Prius of pop’ grins back at people who sneer at him

Solo artist has always been more charming, his songs more compelling, than people like to admit, although he could try something a little more ambitious

George Ezra on stage at the O2 arena in London (Redferns)

George Ezra’s is a theatre of the ordinary. The first of his two sold-out O2 arena shows begins when a giant alarm clock flicks from 06:59 to 07:00, and Radio 1 presenter Greg James announces the start of the breakfast show. The set is designed like a living room: there are lampshades, a few modest house plants, a rug. There’s probably an unopened electricity bill milling around somewhere. At last month’s Brit Awards, where Ezra won Best Male Solo Artist, Jack Whitehall jokingly accused the 25-year-old of being the “Prius of pop”. Clearly, he has decided to lean into it.

Still, Ezra has always been more charming, his songs more compelling, than people like to admit. Absolutely incapable of cynicism, he makes balmy bops with Graceland riffs and cheeky asides; his number one single “Shotgun”, with which he ends the night, is so delightfully buoying that it manages to get away with the line: “Bikini bottoms, lager tops, I could get used to this.” And there is a quiet rumble of darkness behind his perky, sun-soaked music, too. On second song of the night “Get Away”, he sings of being “shut down by anxiety”, even as he’s bobbing along on the balls of his feet and beaming at the crowd as if we’re all in on a great joke together.

“Pretty Shining People” also has a deceptively gloomy edge to it. “What a terrible time to be alive if you’re prone to overthinking,” he opines in his booming baritone (that voice took people by surprise when Ezra first emerged in 2014, incongruous as it was with his cheeky, Milkybar Kid face). As he sings, his image is projected, bathed in red, on the large framed “windows” behind him – a stained glass Ezra.

A few other moments of drama come courtesy of three impressive brass players, who instigate a Mardi Gras-style breakdown on “Blame It on Me”. The rest of his songs, though, are left exactly as they are on record, so as not to interfere with the mass singalong.

Later, Ezra risks toppling his reputation as a Nice Young Man by admitting he bought a bottle of rum off a man in a park in Sweden, in order to get as drunk as possible watching Eurovision with three Swedish girls. He just about recovers: “Don’t cheer that! Think of the children.”

Ezra is a cogent, charismatic showman, who grins back at those who sneer at him. It is an endearing talent, but in an arena this size, he could do with trying something a little more ambitious.

Perhaps next time, he could even venture out of his living room.