Tonight I learnt a few things: Pink doesn’t have pink hair any more. Her real name is Alecia Moore. She has recently had a baby. And her fans love her, like really, really love her.
It’s not that shocking that I didn’t know these Pink facts before squeezing myself into the rammed main room of Camden’s Roundhouse. I’m not really Pink’s target demographic and the last artist of “colour” I saw was Jack White and before that it was The Bluetones, which I bet none of Pink’s target demographic have seen/heard of. So tonight I was taking an unknown punt into the world of Pink.
She came on stage to an eardrum destroying wall of screams from the masses of Pink lookalikes in the crowd who it seemed, and sounded, were very glad to have their punky-pop princess back after a couple of years hiatus since her last proper album, Funhouse.
She opened proceedings on a rocky tip with Are We All We Are from imminent new album The Truth About Love before dipping into her back catalogue of angsty-pop crowd pleasers with U & Ur Hand and Just Like A Pill.
Maybe because Pink has been away from the stage for a while, or because her motherly duties have tired her out, but midway through the show she took a breather from the frenetic blitzkrieg of pop that she was performing and slowed things down with an acoustic section.
It must be said, but Pink can really hammer out a tune. Her voice is mighty. Singing with gusto and emotion stripped back hits like Who Knew and Family Portrait had the crowd reaching for their lighters and mobile phones.
The lighters (and mobile phones) were held even higher when Pink and her ruthlessly tight band powered through the power-ballad sounding new single Try.
In fact tonight was all about debuting new songs from her new album. The crowd loved them and loved Pink and her self-deprecation even more as she forgot the lyrics on a couple of occasions with supportive cheers and laughter. But hey, she has every right to be rusty, right? She’s just had a baby.
This was Pink’s charm. She is feisty and fun and doesn’t care to take herself too seriously. It’s how pop should be, fun. There’s none of the stereotypical veneer of pop conceit with dance routines and bad miming. Not when Pink’s in town. And not that her crowd care she’s messed up some songs in the slightest. She could be sat centre stage knitting a baby grow and they’d still be on their feet shouting, swaying and offering her gifts (which she duly and humbly accepted. Even though what’s she’s going to do with a couple of pillows and a frog puppet I don’t know).
Closing with her party anthem So What had the whole venue on its feet. Gentlemen were waving their arms and teenage hips were wiggling. I was stood at the back, nodding my head in that appreciative way uncoordinated white males do.
She left the stage to waves of applause from an audience appreciating the fact they’ve seen their pop star hero in such a small and intimate setting knowing that next time they see her will probably be in the soulless bucket known as the O2.
I left feeling educated and with an understanding of what Pink was all about. I also learnt about the dangers of being stabbed in the eye by the dyed-pink flat tops of Pink’s female fans.
'Michael Currell'
Pink Roundhouse Set List:

Are We All We Are
How Come You’re Not Here
U & Ur Hand
True Love
The Truth About Love
Just Like A Pill
Leave Me Alone (I’m Lonely)
Family Portrait
Who Knew
Dear Mr President
F**kin’ Perfect
Try
Funhouse
Sober
Blow Me (One Last Kiss)
So What