Angie’s all white ensemble was almost as pure as her
performance, almost as pure as her voice, which is silly good. We heard her
sound-checking and it blew us away, we saw her live and fuck me. So.
Fuckin’. Pure. Enjoying every second of it, wearing a smile on her face, her
legs wobbling in an attempt to dance, like Jersey Dudek for Liverpool during
the penalty shootout in Istanbul, wavin’ all over the place.
She kept it short and sweet, playing her four
singles, the rockier numbers of her set, getting people in the crowd jumping
along, before a cover of Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Silver Spring’ and a couple of newer
cuts slowed things down. ‘Pasta’ brought things to a confident end, Angie toying with the crowd as she ran the track down to a stop,
teasing everyone in the tent, before revving up for a rampant finale.
