Dua Lipa might just be the most universally well-regarded pop star in the world right now. Her breakthrough, Future Nostalgia, released in the pandemic’s 2020 dog days, was a balm for a lonely and isolated population longing for the dance floor. Two inescapable follow-up songs — one with Elton John, the other for the Barbie soundtrack — kept the Lipa momentum alive as the world came back online. Even her latest, less-successful album, Radical Optimism, produced a slew of radio hits.
One key to Lipa’s appeal may be her carefully-maintained mystique. We know little about her aside from her actor fiancé, her propensity for higher-brow, New Yorker-friendly lit, and her many birthday cakes. In an era when it feels like modern pop stars require weeks of online discourse for their every surprise album drop, engagement and/or divorce announcement, perceived and/or real beef, or misdeeds real and fabricated, Lipa’s aversion to the public eye earned her a lot of goodwill. Where other stars have stan armies, Lipa has a podcast.
All this is to say: Dua Lipa is a pop star for everyone, and everyone showed up Sunday at Chase Center for her. There were mother-daughter duos dressed in their best Barbie pinks, girls-and-gays friend groups mouthing along, baddies and dads in their most sparkly attire; in front of me were older couples on their date night and two teenagers who sang along while checking Snapchat for every other song.
No expense was spared. Four bursts of confetti popped creating so much mess that the stage crew spent a couple of minutes sweeping between songs. There was a levitating B-stage, where Dua performed floating and donning a fur coat. That same stage burst into a ring of fire during “Love Again.” Dua was adorned in all manner of sparkles, with at least three costume changes into slinky leotards and two-piece sets more beautiful and shiny than the last. (Talk about a showgirl!) A live backing band breathed new life into older cuts, presenting a two-step remix of early hit “New Rules” and a bass-heavy, ballroom-inspired take on “One Kiss,” sans her much-memed original choreography.
The real shocker of the night: Lipa somehow got Billie Joe Armstrong, of all people, to do a faithful rendition of “Wake Me Up When September Ends” on stage with her. She explained that she listened to American Idiot a lot on her Walkman (!), and what better representation is there of San Francisco than Green Day? (We’ll let the Berkeley snub slide.)
The spectacle of it all didn’t distract from just how good of a live performer Lipa has become. She’s no longer the “go girl, give us nothing” Lipa of years past, and she seemed keen on proving her mettle. Her husky, sensual alto was pristine, and she kept up with the athletic choreography without missing a step. During “Falling Forever,” a deep-ish cut from Radical Optimism, she flexed with a display of day-glo horses behind her. As if to emphasize that, yes, her mic is on, she sang another track, “Anything for Love,” largely A capella.
But, really, it’s clear that Dua Lipa is a star based off of her it factor. About an hour into the show, she went down into the crowd for some banter. She chatted up a couple who came from Miami for the show; she acquiesced when a fan asked for a kiss on his vinyl copy of an album. (“Would you like a photo in case it smudges off?” she joked.) And, at one point, she made at least a few young girls feel like princesses: shouting out two kids in the rafters dancing, and cheering on a young party of neon LED crowned middle schoolers who probably discovered her thanks to Barbie. “Are you guys having a good time?” she asked. “Yes!” came their screamed response.
It was sweet and unpretentious, not unlike Lipa’s whole deal. It’s also the kind of thing that might turn a lowercase pop star into a capital-S star.
