IT'S hard to resist the pulse of Imelda May's music, either with or without her stage act's synchronised lighting.
One fan used the limited gallery space to perform leaps and somersaults – until he was nearly red-carded for removing his top.
Even if you only had room for foot-tapping, you ended up feeling you'd been in a workout. With the swish little dress and that trademark curl, the dynamic Irish vocalist has been dubbed old-fashioned.
"I'm hissin' like Eartha Kitt in a cage," she sings in Let Me Out.
Theatrical yet spontaneous, May soon had the house clapping and chanting. Implicitly, her material salutes such golden oldies as Wanda Jackson, Gene Vincent, country music's Patsy Cline and, for sure, Elvis Presley.
There was also an episode redolent of Beach Boys and surf guitars, but I wouldn't say May was "retro", because she and the band have absorbed diverse models into something of their own.
Dave Priseman, who blows an alluring trumpet, laid blues and jazz overtones. And all the group helped to define the show's sound: May's partner Darrel Higham on lead guitar, Al Gare slapping his double bass, Steve Rushton fastening down the evening's controlled mayhem on drums.
May herself flourished a tambourine, guitar, eventually her Irish bodhr�n. Vocally raw and raunchy for much of the set, she also did smooth and smoochy – and her Kentish Town Waltz added up to a classic love song.
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