Whether she floats your boat musically or not, Katy Perry is undeniably talented. Especially when stripped-back during less elaborate ballads like ‘Into Me You See’, Perry’s got a belter of a voice and she’s a solid songwriter. However, when you’re going to one of her stadium gigs, you’re strapped in for a full extravaganza where every song is a production number of epic proportions – there were even fireworks and confetti canons two songs in during ‘Roulette’, her ode to cutting loose.
It’s tempting to be cynical about the exercise, especially during certain moments, such as where Perry assures Rod Laver Arena that Melbourne is her favourite city in the country (she likes our food and we’re “chill”). The only people who don’t know that this is BS banter are probably pre-teen fans. But really, who cares?
There was something for everyone with a pulse to enjoy in this show, starting with the ‘80s homage, which is the visual through-line for the evening. It’s clever, because although most of her fans weren’t born yet, their guardians were, and the spot-the-reference exercise is a fun eye-spy to keep grownups occupied, starting with Perry’s Grace Jones-esque newly cropped locks and hooded ensemble, through to her Talking Heads-style oversized suit a costume change, and Pacman visuals later in the show.
Set-wise, there’s everything spanning giant flamingos operated by puppeteers to a universe about which Perry revolves on her own planet with rings. It’s surreal, but anytime it verges on too much, something happens to make it transcend – worlds move, a colossal hand closes, a construction-site beam transports pink vinyl-clad dancers and Perry skyward, and it’s magical.
Perry’s also got a sense of humour. For instance, during ‘Bon Appetite’, when she reclines on a giant leaf and is seasoned with glitter from oversized salt and pepper shakers by her back-up dancers, she’s all but saying, “eat me”.
With a giant eye staring at us from the stage Big-Brother style, coupled with thousands of phones borne aloft during the show, we’re in the modern equivalent of a panopticon – we watch her, she watches us, and collectively we’re witness to a spectacle.
Highlight: Seeing thousands of (primarily) girls and women singing their guts out during ‘Roar’ was enough to soften the heart of a dedicated rock dog.
Lowlight: The concert could have used a pruning, which may have made for fewer kids chucking themselves on the ground for full-bodied tantrums on the way out. Also, ‘I Kissed A Girl’ is uncomfortable listening these days – it trivialises queer experience and embodies shame.
Crowd Favourite: Perry confessing to being called a “bogan”, and, predictably, her ecstatic pop anthem ‘Firework’.
