Neneh Cherry’s daughter proves she’s got the pop gene
Mabel
Hammersmith Apollo, London W6
It’s obviously not unusual to hear a concert crowd chanting a headline act’s name, but there was something rather incongruous about the hollering of the old-fashioned name “Ma-bel! Ma-bel!” before this 23-year-old rising pop star took to the stage.
Mabel Alabama-pearl Mcvey hails from a heady music legacy – she’s the daughter of Eighties star Neneh Cherry and artist/producer Cameron Mcvey – and has a cosmopolitan background (she was born in Spain, before her childhood years in Sweden). But she also has west London connections and enjoys an unaffected intimacy with her fans, who made Wednesday night’s show at this “local” venue feel like a joyous homecoming.
Mabel mustered a storming pop entrance: emerging in a blaze of pyrotechnics and electric blue lights for the slick opening number Mad Love, surrounded by six female dancers and an instrumental trio. And this drive remained apparent throughout a high-energy set-list of musical bangers.
Much of Mabel’s material deals with age-old universal themes – the highs and lows of romance; late nights out with your friends – but her ballads and keen observations lend these sentiments a sharp 21st-century twist; in Mabel’s modern world, a faithless lover is less likely to be caught out by lipstick on his collar, than his Instagram account.
On record, her sweet and light vocals and tunes are undeniably catchy but can sound generic. Here, however, they felt refreshingly powered-up – testimony to Mabel’s own stage presence, as well as her excellent (yet always inobtrusive) musicians.
There were points where Mabel’s determination to do it all looked as though it might exhaust her; several numbers in, her live vocals started to sound slightly drained. Just as swiftly, though, she perked up, and introduced a clutch of cool rappers.
Credit should also go to the sharp set design. The lyrics for Selfish Love were projected on-screen in the form of social media texts and Mabel’s own image frequently appeared: posing reflectively, or snarling for effect; at these points, she not only strongly resembled her mother, but looked queenly in her own right.
There was a fleeting homage to Destiny’s Child’s 1999 R&B anthem Say My Name, but Mabel seemed most in her element in present, personal territory. Even when Mabel returned to upbeat themes, she evinced an unaffected kindness – at one point, stopping a track to assist a fainting fan in the front row.
She ended on a string of headstrong hits – God is a Dancer, Ring Ring, and Don’t Call Me Up. The phrase “girl power” is too contrived and affected to apply to this modern talent. Mabel embodies a genuine feminine force – and the sense that true pop spirit is empowering for everybody.