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In Gigwise’s humble opinion, MIA has single-handedly lit up the year like no other artist in 2007. Her second album ‘Kala’ is a funktastic masterpiece, brimming with eclectic ideas phat beats and searing tunes at every turn. In a just, parallel universe, it would have been the album to finally propel the Londoner/Sri Lankan artist into the mainstream’s consciousness rather than the cultish icon of cool that she is. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t take copious amount of drugs, marry a rogue and have a stupid haircut?! Anyway, to top off the year, MIA is playing her biggest headline UK shows to date and tonight’s ridiculously intimate show at London’s ICA serves as an enticing warm-up.
Only, someone forgot to tell MIA that it’s a ‘warm-up.’ From the offset, when she bounces onstage wearing cheap shades and a damn curious, yet kitsch tracksuit with dog bones on it (honestly, Jimmy Saville would fucking love it) and hammers into the uncompromising ‘Bamboo Banger’, it’s the kind of palpably electric show that gets the pulse racing from the offset. Shouting such niceties as “M.I.A in fucking London Town!”, the 30-year-old is a lesson in confidence as she struts and dominates the stage alongside her energetic MC and nonchalant DJ – tonight’s the first time there’s an all female trio onstage and they collectively ooze the kind of ‘girl power’ that a certain reformed girl band could only dream of. Even the sound man isn’t safe from the boundless energy and attitude served up, as MIA beckons “We can’t hear shit! You need to get louder!” Poor bloke.
Each song is dispatched with potency and assurance, perhaps lacking in live instrumentation at points, but this is more than made up for in both MIA’s presence and the frankly awesome visuals that provide the backdrop (at one point there’s even a fetching Super Mario pastiche). ‘20 Dollar’, and ‘World Turn’ are simply irresistible, while ‘Bucky Done Gun’ is a tour-de-force – only ‘Jimmy’ fails to impress, devoid of the carnival-esque Indian pop spirit that imbues the original song. Soon though, the mayhem truly kicks off. Stripped of her tracksuit top and shades to reveal luminous green war paint across her face, MIA shouts “Come on fuck my stage up!” duly prompting the first of two mass stage invasions of the night. MIA herself is forced to orate a scatty-as-fuck ‘Bird Flu’ from within the crowd itself. The boyish Afrikan Boy, drafted in earlier for his spot on ‘Hussel’, is at the centre of the throng, looking rightly bemused and overwhelmed.
Like all great gigs, and after yet another stage mobbing, the best moments are saved until last. ‘Boyz’ sums up everything brilliant about MIA – vivacious, energy packed and inventive – while the gun toting ‘Paper Planes’ is purely anthemic. Truly, if you haven’t checked out MIA live before, she’s essential as a heartbeat.
