Review: An Evening with Amanda Palmer

The ukulele may be the most offensive of non-instruments, but Amanda Palmer’s minimalist efforts do something towards reviving its credibility. Her open call for requests inaugurates the show and sets the tone: ad hoc, stripped back and collaborative. But by her own admission she can only remember “about 22 per cent of my entire catalogue”, so an album’s worth of song suggestions are rejected until the audience pick one in her memory percentile.

When the "impromptu" setlist is eventually picked, it restores her magic. She is forgiven for her impression of a telly psychic who teases the right answer out via a process of elimination. The Bed Song has a staggered momentum, with Palmer whimsy interrupting at will. Her secret to getting away with this is employing a barefaced unapologetic shtick. It negates the irritating effects of a faltering stop-start performance and replaces it with candid engagement.

This confirms that “An Evening With Amanda Palmer” is a much more successful incarnation of her celebrated anti-gig. Last time she stood in the Academy she was surrounded by an unrehearsed full band whose mistakes forced them to restart songs thrice. The mystifying Palmer exemption from the laws of logic somehow allowed this to boost her endearing appeal (her excuse was “F**k it, f**k everything” and the crowd went wild), but it still wore thin. Off the cuff works better in her one-woman-ish show, with intermittent guests filling in blanks.

Neil Gaiman's arrival is a little bit like an extended wedding reception performance piece, which is good because the audience obviously want to see how in love they are. He reads passages from her book (largely about himself) and fits the bill of a makeshift interval perfectly. A later highlight is her cover of Pregnant Women are Smug with backing singer Whitney Moses (featuring very special guest Palmer's six-month-old pregnancy bump).

Although laden with storytelling and readings, the ukulele remains the most serious diversion from the musical quality of her show. This becomes clear when she returns to the keys for an astounding rendering of Coin Operated Boy to close. It proves she's wasting her talent as a pianist on any instrument, especially the ukulele.