By attempting to become both a successful actress and singer, London’s Paloma Faith characterises herself as a return to the stars of yesteryear. In the way she sings, her elaborate stage set, the 1930s-style outfits her musicians wear and her numerous costume changes, Faith sees herself as an entertainer. If she had been born 60 years ago, she would have wowed the musical halls and jazz clubs, speaking with wink and the accent of a Carry On girl smoking a metric tonne of cigarettes.

When interviewed, Faith talks constantly of her love of theatre and though normally this would be little more than Sunday supplement fodder, it’s actually very striking how much the presence of the theatre is draped over her live show. Her gig feels and progresses like a grand musical, each song different in its style, its structure, its mood, and its message.

She begins with up-tempo bee bop on Upside Down, then moves to mournful crooning on Do You Want The Truth Or Something Beautiful? and channels Marilyn Monroe on the cheeky Romance Is Dead. She even has a stoic ballad to close her first act: Play On feels like the scene where the wronged heroine casts aside her woe, wipes her eyes and soldiers on, full of pomp and spirit.

And, as at all great theatrical events, the show-stopper is saved for the curtain call: in New York, Faith has a track as uplifting as anything Lloyd Webber has ever produced, at once heartbroken and hopeful, and at the chorus she is not required to sing as the crowd overpower her.

Past attempts by pop stars to add a touch of theatre to their shows usually bring pretentious and cringeworthy results, but there’s none of that with Paloma Faith. Her cocktail of sparkling pizzazz, wonderful vocals and great songs carry it off. A triumph.