CityLife

Clubland Live

N-Dubz

Clubland Live
MEN Arena
December 4, 2009

IF you’re unfamiliar with the Clubland Live concept, imagine an indoor version of a summer music festival designed specifically for people with ADHD and a penchant for neon clothing and glowsticks.

The night comprises a whistle stop line-up of acts associated with the Clubland brand and its parent label, All Around The World.

Each one is afforded just 10 minutes with which to wow the assembled crowd of 10,000-plus teeny ravers – all trussed up in various states of garish undress, as if the phrase ‘You’re not going out dressed like that’ had never been invented – using a streaming barrage of their most recognisable hits.

It’s an idea that more music festivals should adopt – think how much better Glastonbury would be if it only lasted an evening, you could be home for Buzzcocks and there wasn’t all that mud.Early on, Agnes impresses with her hit Release Me, while the hugely popular Skyla has more energy than a windfarm and performs an amazing bounce version of Breaking Free from High School Musical.

About halfway through the DJ set which follows from Aussie spinner Alex K, we realise that if colonic irrigations were to be administered via the ears, it would sound something like this.

Connected

Bowel-shaking beats rumble relentlessly atop speeded up hooks from today’s biggest chart hits, a sound typical of the genre.

Little wonder they call him ‘The Thunder From Down Under’.

After a set from Darren Styles comes the reason most people are here, N Dubz, a group whose arrival causes hysteria in the arena and who don’t sound like much else here tonight – their songs are pretty varied, for a start.

The band – a kind of Sports Direct Fugees – bound onstage to mass adulation and become the first act to actually fulfil the ‘Live’ remit of the evening with a storming full band set comprising hits such as Strong Again, Number 1 and I Need You.

With lyrics about Facebook and council estate life, N Dubz have connected with youth culture more effectively than Farmville.

This is compounded when singer Dappy is mobbed by front row fans who tear his famous hat – a bona fide piece of late Noughties memorabilia – from his head. So following that is a big ask, even for Cascada.

With her thrifty trick of using the same beat on every single track, the self-proclaimed True Queen of Dance Music struggles to engage a post-bedtime crowd who by then have danced themselves out.