Santigold – review

Timing is everything in pop, and Santigold 's has gone awry. When the New York electropop diva born Santi White emerged in 2008 – then trading as Santogold – with a striking debut album and a sound, look and attitude all apparently fully formed, her domination of the music world seemed imminent. There followed a four-year hiatus, during which Santigold has seemingly done little except fiddle with her name and indulge in a slew of collaborations with everyone from Amadou & Mariam to the Beastie Boys. The emergence in the interim of similarly minded stars such as Lady Gaga and Nicki Minaj has left the hapless White playing catch-up. Compounding her problems, her comeback album Master of My Make-Believe lacks the crucial game-changing melodies. This defect hasn't prevented her loyal demographic of hipsters and fashionistas turning this venue into a sweatbox. They are rewarded with a spectacular performance in which the vivacious Santigold, a vision in kaleidoscopic Day-Glo, almost does enough to distract you from the fact that her tunes aren't all that. An album non-song such as God from the Machine fades even further into the background as the costume changes range from Hawaiian beach party to sci-fi camp to pantomime horse. Recent single Disparate Youth has a piquant melancholy, and old favourite Creator incites a stage invasion, with Santigold's full approval, but she has been a star in waiting too long. If it is really going to happen for Santigold, it had better start very soon.