Since debuting as a MySpace-fueled upstart in the mid-‘00s, London-born singer-songwriter Lily Allen has been feted for blending her sugary soprano with acid-tipped lyrics. (Take the chorus of her clamorous debut single “Smile,” which thrills in the misfortune of a lecherous ex.) But her fifth album “West End Girl,” released last fall, added emotional heft to the mix, pairing her talent for flinging bon mots with an unflinching depiction of the ways in which a breakup can completely rearrange one’s sense of self.
Over its 14 tracks, “West End Girl” tells the story of a seemingly happy marriage that spins into chaos before disintegrating, nearly taking its protagonist’s sanity and sobriety with it. The song cycle whipsaws through stages of grief, detouring to moments of aggravation, humiliation, and defiant conceit before arriving at acceptance—“It’s not me, it’s you,” Allen declares, asserting herself by calling back to her sophomore album of the same name—on the sumptuous closer “Fruityloop.”
So it makes sense that instead of the traditional hits-and-new-stuff promotional jaunt, Allen decided to stage “West End Girl” as a synth-pop operetta on its attendant tour, which kicked off a two-night run at the Orpheum on Saturday. It’s her first such outing in seven years, and her first since she began taking roles in the sorts of theatrical productions that supplied her album’s title.
Those attendees who wanted to sing along with Allen’s old hits were taken care of by the opening cello ensemble, Dallas Minor Trio, who performed instrumental versions of Allen chestnuts in front of a screen displaying lyrics, karaoke-style.
Allen has racked up chart-toppers and awards over the last two decades, but her entry in the breakup-album canon was explosive not only because of its gossip-page-ready narrative (the ex she sings of is “Stranger Things” and “DTF St. Louis” star David Harbour) but because of the way she used her shrewd observational skills and on-shuffle genre ideals to illustrate complete devastation. “Relapse,” where she tries to deal with her feelings while staying sober, pairs its insistent two-step beat with a numbed-out vocal, while the drum&bass-reggae hybrid “Nonmonogamummy” depicts her attempt to go all in on the open-marriage ideal with resigned hesitation (“I’m so committed that I’d lose myself/‘Cause I don’t wanna lose you, you, you,” she sighs).
That combustible quality also makes the album’s in toto live performance compelling. Allen smoldered and brooded alone on a stage that was simply yet evocatively dressed up to look like various interiors. She relived the album’s tribulations, sometimes symbolically (she literally got tangled up in receipts on the glum “4chan Stan”) and sometimes played with a slight wink (the Valley-adjacent American accent representing the antagonist of “Madeline” was a stunner).
The story “West End Girl” tells is an all-too-familiar one, as evidenced by the supportive shouts and raucous cheers of Saturday’s crowd — but Allen’s version of it is a showcase for both her singular authorial voice and honeyed instrument.
LILY ALLEN
With Dallas Minor Trio. At the Orpheum Theatre, Saturday; also Sunday