Gig review: Becky Hill at First Direct Arena, Leeds

“Leeds!” Becky Hill hollers, fist clenched and arm raised to the sky. Behind her, a huge technicolour screen pulses with neon-block colours and pastel-hued waterfall landscapes. “Shall we take it back ten years?” The choppy, juddering stabs of Gecko (Overdrive) kick in and the singer is off in her burgundy leather jumpsuit, studded belt slung across her shoulder like a bandolier sash.

In a way, the accessory is an apt choice for the 30-year-old; a soldier’s garment to stock up the ammunition when under the cosh. It has taken a long time for the performer to reach the summit from her origins as a semi-finalist on the first series of The Voice.

Now, a decade later, this maiden arena tour behind her second record Believe Me Now? crowns her graduation into the British pop big leagues – but it is a step she still seems somewhat blindsided by.

The sash is protection, in a way; entering to the disco-twitchiness of True Colours, and flanked at first only by a live drummer and a trio of backing vocalists, Hill appears dwarfed by the stage around her, an elegantly dressed two-tier effort framed by white curtains and an ever-changing array of visual motifs.

There’s a stark quality to the figure that she cuts, even as she frontloads the first half-hour with some of her biggest bangers: Crazy What Love Can Do, Last Time and Piece of Me are all aired early, as she roams back and forth, frequently seeking to assure herself that everybody is having a good time. “No, but seriously,” she calls out at one point, like the clubland answer to Frank Lampard’s interview gimmicks.

But as the show continues to wind forward, the crowd – predominantly dominated by hen do’s and sugar-rush kids hopped on the shoulders of their parents – start to see something wonderful in real time, as Hill sheds her nerves.

It is easy to see why she was one of the most in-demand guests for disc jockey producers before successfully striking out solo; she has a terrific control and range that gradually emboldens her all-round skills. Outside of Love is a slice of thrillingly immediate dance-pop, while newer cut Lost the Plot allows her to feed off its sheer brashness.

“I was just some kid from Worcestershire who loved drum and bass!” she cries, as a terrific Afterglow kicks in. By the end of the night, standing triumphant for Remember, she seems to have fully recalled it herself too.