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Estelle


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Shepherds Bush Empire

Estelle's big break

Estelle
Boundless charms: Estelle risks a Janet Jackson-style wardrobe malfunction moment

By John Aizlewood
13 Jun 2008


The moment it leaves these shores, British hip-hop tends to sink faster than you can ask what did happen to Ms Dynamite. Seemingly doomed after her debut — 2004’s The 18th Day — flopped, Fanta Estelle Swaray may be the mould beaker.

At her lowest point, she bravely fled West Kensington in favour of Brooklyn (Ms Dynamite, you suspect, would have been overcome with the vapours had she ventured beyond the M25), where she found herself powerful patrons in the shape of John Legend, who signed her to his label; Kanye West, who duetted on her British No 1, American Boy, and producers Wyclef Jean and will.i.am.

This year, her second album, Shine, breached the American Top 40 and, as someone once said, the only way is up.

Last night’s homecoming was so nearly a glorious triumph. The sound was passable; her super-taut band featured a violinist as well as a DJ, and a quartet of dancers gave the whole enterprise the feel of a 21st century Motown revue, especially on the headspinning opener, Wait A Minute (Just A Touch).

And Estelle herself looked the part in a sparkly dress that kept threatening a Janet Jackson-style wardrobe malfunction. Moreover, she had boundless, sweary charm, whether admitting the famous are afflicted with PMS, eulogising her cooking (“I don’t just look good”) or pointing out that if your man has a sock drawer at your place, he is your boyfriend, whatever his non-committal claims. And when she invited a lascivious fan to cavort with her during Come Over, she was soon telling him to “stop touching my arse”. Who could resist her?

Then, with victory seemingly assured, she blew it by spending almost 15 minutes of her brisk 75-minute set off stage, during which her backing vocalists lumbered through Hey Girl before the DJ’s mind-numbing solo spot (this genre’s equally dreary drum solo equivalent), where the dancers pirouetted around embarrassed, heavy-legged musicians.

Inevitably, when Estelle finally returned, all momentum had been sapped and not even her singing both parts of American Boy or a fierce Free could resurrect it.

Details are correct at the time of publication - please check with venue before booking.

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