It's not every performer who could fill a theatre the size of the Dominion with just their voice and a guitar, but Melissa Etheridge pulled it off and still seemed to have plenty left in reserve.
Mostly it's the voice, a booming foghorn that shivered the Dominion's timbers and threatened to sweep away anything that wasn't nailed down. On I Take You With Me, Etheridge threw her head back and bawled the lyrics, revelling in her own power. At such moments, those Janis Joplin comparisons weren't too far-fetched.
Where Etheridge doesn't resemble Joplin is in her determination to shape her career into an ongoing statement about her politics and what Californians would probably call "life choices". She is currently promoting a new album, Skin, a soul-baring batch of songs triggered by upheaval in her private life. Since she is one of the most famous lesbians in show business, it was no great surprise to find her audience packed with female couples - but the powerful emotional bond she instantly created with her listeners was striking. The warmth of the crowd's reaction even seemed to take the singer by surprise, prompting apparently heartfelt promises that she wouldn't stay away from England so long next time.
Given the limited resources she had chosen to deploy, it was a feat to get through a two-hour show with barely a dull moment. Etheridge's songwriter's palette isn't particularly broad, relying on the kind of tried-and-tested rock'n'roll shapes that haven't changed since the heyday of Bob Seger, but she allows her songs no mercy and sings everything as if it's for the last time. Lover Please was raw and intense, while I Want to Come Over dripped with passion and trembled with lust. When she sat on the edge of the stage to sing You Can Sleep While I Drive, the audience metaphorically pulled up cushions and gathered round.
She also sang a few songs at the piano, and should have done it more often. For the closing song, Please Forgive Me, she found a glowing vocal tone to match her bluesy keyboard shadings. The finest performance of the night was a gripping version of Joan Armatrading's The Weakness in Me, a song that fitted her so well it might have been written for her. If performance is therapy, Etheridge must have left the stage feeling a whole lot better.
