Shamir: a gig too far? | Electric Picnic

Typical. You seem to wait forever for just one performance from adorable Las Vegas stripling Shamir Bailey, and then two show up at once. His first outing is a brilliant and ebullient introduction to the epicene singer, resplendent in an ice-cream cone sweater, with a band tight enough to improve on his studio sound.

That tactility makes Shamir an assured presence onstage, fingers fluttering on his mic as though playing the stops of a flute, with enough sass to flash a knowing look before On The Regular or the divinely insistent I Know It’s a Good Thing: here we go. It’s a gorgeous set – concise, no filler, full of personality and play – and by the end of it he trades hugs and handclasps with the front row. The idyllic Body & Soul arena ought to be his triumph, but packed to capacity and vexed by muddy sound, it actually conceals his spirit. No matter. As any scion of Vegas knows, that’s just the luck of the draw.

In Three Words: You win/lose.