Rosemary Mac Cabe

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Ra ma ra ma maaaa, ga ga ooh la laaaaa OR how Lady Gaga melted my icy heart

Photograph by Aidan Crawley Last night I went, courtesy of the Audi Club at the O2, to see Lady Gaga (journalists, betimes, get invited to things; some invites I turn down, others I don’t, but I will always disclose when …

Thu, Oct 28, 2010, 11:56

   

Photograph by Aidan Crawley

Last night I went, courtesy of the Audi Club at the O2, to see Lady Gaga (journalists, betimes, get invited to things; some invites I turn down, others I don’t, but I will always disclose when I’m writing about something that’s a freebie). Beforehand, I wasn’t a huge fan, I’ll admit – I reckoned she was a bit like Madonna lite, or a pop star who tried too hard to be different.

Consider me a convert.

The costumes, the singing, the dancing (although not too much of it, which is always a good sign that someone’s not miming – although her continued shouts of “I don’t fucking lip sync” were clear enough), the sets . . . it was theatrical in the extreme, and utterly mesmerising. It was the first gig I’ve been to in years that I wanted to last longer than its two hours. I felt like Amy Winehouse on Never Mind the Buzzcocks, going “I never want it to end” except, well, not sarcastic.

Were you there? Did you see? Did you feel? Which costume was your favourite? (Mine was a white gown that looked like icicles, with a moving headpiece and skirt – ah-may-zing!)