Carly Rae Jepsen @ O2 Academy, Glasgow, 8 Feb

Carly Rae Jepsen has produced inarguably one of the great pop catalogues of the last decade, so one can go into her shows expecting banger upon banger. That said, she’s coming off the back of her patchiest record in a decade, and crucially, one that felt a little like hedging bets, not quite sure which direction to turn for the first time. On top of this it’s evident early on that the show is not a full scale visual spectacular in the manner of many other pop shows, and the "well let me just perch on this here stool for the slow number" has a ring of the Vegas residency about it. It could feel like the first hints of a star slipping into another, less exciting era. 

This may all sound like a lot of negativity for a four-star review, but when all’s said and done, these aren’t the things that make or break a pop gig, but rather the untenable, ecstatic moments that jolt you into a more fluorescent mode of being, if only for a moment; Jepsen has these by the bucketload. The absolute firestorm of hits in the first half alone make it worthwhile. The clipped, treacly synths that cut through the magnificent Julian mean its eruption into its technicolour chorus hits even harder than on record, while the juddering Robyn-isms of Now That I Found You come into even sharper focus with a live band around them. 

Jepsen acts less like a pop star intent on being the centre of attention, more like someone who has tasked themselves with marshalling these songs, and whipping these people before her into as much of a frenzy as possible. It’s a role she performs effortlessly. Her voice finds the necessary emotional intensity to match the histrionic brilliance of Run Away With Me. It’s a song that, closing in on a decade since it came out and having weathered the rapid ageing formula of becoming a meme, remains one of the great pop records of its era, and is the highlight tonight, belted out by all at full ferocity. 

The gig does lose a touch of momentum at points, but there’s always an incredible hook or a barnstorming chorus round the corner. Take Beach House, off last year’s The Loneliest Time, which on record struggles with feeling a little mannered. Here, with the added power of a live band, it turns into another of her full-blooded smashes. That said, not letting the always brilliant backing singers sing the song’s spoken bridge and instead opting for playback of the painfully irritating drama school reading from the single is a baffling choice. But then, she can close with a song as good as Cut To the Feeling and you forgive everything. It’s the purest example of the iridescent, heart on sleeve joy that is the core of her brilliance, and what she does better than anyone else around right now.