Becky Hill live at Utilita Arena review – dance music star goes through the motions

Becky Hill may have plenty of hit singles under her belt, but her live act proved to be a work in progress on a shaky night in Newcastle.

“Stop, stop, stop. I did the wrong lyric.” If you’re a pre-eminent popstar, these are definitely not the words you want to be uttering just after launching into a rendition of your hot new single on your first arena tour. And yet here Becky Hill stands, looking out over a sea of 10,000 Geordies, scores of bright pink cowboy hats bobbing up and down in the distance like buoys.

As is the norm for arena concerts, two giant LED screens project near constant close-ups of Hill’s face from the sides of the stage; there is nowhere to hide. When her second try of new single Indestructible is also halted, this time by a fainting fan in the middle of the standing area, she briefly snaps. “We can’t keep stopping concerts because you guys are jibbing out and not drinking water,” she chastises. When Indestructible finally is performed – third time lucky – the clichéd lyrics have a new layer of irony: “We can stand together […] / ‘Cause we’re indestructible”. Hill, for her part, simply puts on a smile and ploughs on.

It was the low point of a businesslike show from Hill, who is indisputably one of Britain’s most successful musicians – 12 top 20 hits and counting – but is yet to become a household name the same way her peers like Dua Lipa and Harry Styles are. One reason is because she has built a career entirely off singles, each produced by a different, invariably white, male and faceless DJ. In Newcastle, she reels off the chart-toppers: Wilkinson’s Afterglow, David Guetta’s Crazy What Love Can Do, MEDUZA’s Lose Control, each a different variation on the same inoffensive dance-pop formula.

So what does a Becky Hill song sound like? We got a taste of it with Hill’s surprise sojourn on a spinning plinth in the middle of the audience, delivering two self-penned piano ballads. Yes, Man of My Dreams was meandering and forgettable, but it had at least a veneer of artistic authenticity. Opener True Colours is also unmistakably Hill’s, recounting a sexual abuse incident with a former friend, and the repetitive chorus was bold in message (“Do you believe me now?”) but slim on melody.

Luckily, some of these faceless DJs know their way around a club banger. Oliver Heldens’ Gecko (Overdrive) was one of the night’s punchiest numbers, and deserved better than to be disposed of as early as song two. Chase & Status’ Disconnect is the finest smash Hill has leant her voice to by some distance, and the chest-rattling synths were a thrill to hear over the Utilita’s humungous sound system. Refreshingly, this song is not about falling in love (which accounts for 90% of Hill’s discography), but about dance’s ability to help us destress and leave the outside world behind. The thousands of people leaping up and down to an extended cut in the arena clearly got the message.

In fact, rarely – if ever – did Hill’s energy on stage match that of her ecstatic fans in the crowd. She was left to shuffle awkwardly on one vocals-free chorus after another, appearing faintly exhausted and barely able to hide it. Sizeable brass and strings sections were supposed to beef things up but turned out to be a needless addition and were apparently there just so Hill’s show looked the part (look Mum, a tuba!). Hill makes dance music, so why not splash the cash on a dance troupe instead, à la Dua Lipa’s phenomenal Glastonbury performance? If Hill was indeed following choreographed moves, she wasn’t exactly selling it.

It was Hill’s recent chart hits that had the audience around me out of their seats, but – apart from her titanic, husky voice – it was hard to see what all the fuss was about. Crazy What Love Can Do’s hook offered about the same level of melodic invention as Three Blind Mice, whilst My Heart Goes had the sort of inane earworm that haunts you in your dreams (lyric: “la di da da di da”). Closing track Remember was similarly vapid, but you’d have to be a real Scrooge to claim the technicolour lights and fluttering confetti didn’t provide at least a spark of genuine euphoria.

By far the most intriguing track of the night was the unreleased song Lost the Plot. Whilst forgettable musically, lyrically it was a striking departure from her usual radio-friendly fluff, with vulnerable lyrics about dying alone, having no friends and being only in it for the money that wouldn’t sound out of place in a Charli xcx track. “Just another popstar who lost the plot,” Hill sang, and often in this gig it really did seem like she was simply carrying out the duties required of her as a popstar, her mind in another place. But Lost the Plot was a hint of the artist Hill could become: unique, daring, brave. For now though, it seems Hill just needs a well-earned rest. That, and a choreographer.