Kim Wilde is a nice girl. She’s spontaneous, friendly and voloptuous. A concert, to Wilde, is an enduring demonstration of what seems to be her life fulfillment: to please the audience. To achieve that, she wants to look like Lolita, to giggle like a schoolgirl and talk semi-naughty about ‘naughty blonde girls’. Even if she is a grown woman by now.
Her audience consists of fans of all ages. Children were present with teddybears and men gave her flowers and letters. The room sang along with almost every track and Kim Wilde enjoyed it all. But her disguise as nicest girl of the class has a tragic side as well. That girl can not be more than a caricature. That the end of her career is dawning, was obvious from her own words: she talked about “…the lovely carreer I had…er… have”.
And so the concert was not about getting acquainted with new material, but built like a jukebox. All songs that were released on single were played and if an unknown song turned up, Wilde apologized. The hits (View from a bridge, You came, Cambodia, Kids in America) are nice enough but they are dismantled by the loveless accompaniment of thumping discobeats and synthesizer-phrases. Wilde’s voice sounds like a hot-water-kettle at the high notes, but can change to a beautiful warm sound during the lower passages. Evenso, that high sound is her trademark, and the movements and the giggling a prescription.