Petite Meller on stage at London’s Heaven. Photo Courtesy of Liv Slania
She may be called Petite Meller, but judging from tonight’s sold out show at London’s Heaven, her future is anything but small.
The Parisian songstress is a lolita-esque pop oddity in every sense of the word. From her risqué flesh bearing two-piece to her fragile doll-like exterior, the buzz surrounding Meller spawns from her ability to deliver unashamedly pop doused future-hits under the pretence of forbidden fruit.
However, if the set opener “Geez” was anything to go by, you’d be forgiven for thinking Petite Meller had succumbed to her own hype.
Aside from the obligatory arm-flailing diehards, much of the opening 20 minutes was spent in a heightened state of bemusement. Live vocals were layered over playback, something that could have created an impressive harmony had it not been for the timing issues. It almost seemed as though Meller’s precision and finesse had abandoned her when she needed it most.
Her second track offering “Backpack” resided itself to a similar fate.
It wasn’t for Meller’s lack of trying. Nor was it let down by the brilliance of the jazz smothered sax interludes. Her overtly-quirky intertrack conversations, particularly between “Hawaii” and her album’s forthcoming title track “Milk Bath”– “This song is about when you’re just born and the first need you have is MILK.” – amalgamated into a first half that lacked – and I hate to use this word – star quality.
It seemed as though ‘Little’ Meller was in fact a little lost.
And then, as though she could sense our doubt, her latest single “Baby Love” staged a hypnotic, pure-pop assault on our eardrums. Meller’s quaint exuberance suddenly all made sense. You could feel the sickly sweet jazz-tinged pop seeping through your pores, an altogether pleasant experience you had no intention of fighting off.
The infectious track was the missing puzzle piece that cemented our understanding of Petite Meller as a contemporary artist. The bouncy chords of “Barbaric” followed soon after, alongside a last-minute costume change and the addition of an assortment of pensioners (We still haven’t quite figured that out). But despite the obscure combination of elements, you were able to dismiss their oddity as just another dream-like fantasy of hers.
At times you found yourself caught in a debauchery filled void where aesthetics overtook substance, but in many ways that’s the very foundation contemporary pop music is built upon.
To call it a show of two halves would be like labelling Freddie Mercury a good frontman. It may be true, but my god would it be an understatement and a half. Based on tonight’s opening tracks, Petite Meller could easily be dismissed as just another popstar who fails to deliver live without an ostentatious show to back her up. But to do that would be to dismiss a tail-end comprised of pure unadulterated magic.
Has the pop world found itself a Kylie replacement? Not exactly. But that’s primarily due to her artistic clutches extending into GaGa-esque territory. Petite Meller, with her art-infused volcanic pop, is an artist set for great things.
Petite Meller’s London set list:
Geez
Backpack
Hawaii
Milk Bath
The Flute Song
Power
Baby Love
Lil Love
Baby Love (Reprise)
Barbaric
