Maya Arulpragasam is full of contradictions. She gleefully tramples questions of authenticity while simultaneously exploiting them; she puts her politics front and centre of her live show, but when it comes to expressing them, she is gauche and embarrassing. She pitches herself as a voice of the street, but it is impossible not to notice that there are more non-white faces in the montage of background scenes flashing behind her than there are in the crowd.
MIA orchestrates two stage invasions: during 10 Dollar and Bird Flu a troupe of hipster kids are shepherded on stage, then off again. It all seems somewhat safe. One is never quite sure just how seriously MIA takes herself - whether she thinks her primary-school-level third-world signifiers and art-school terrorist imagery have substance, or if it is merely a big joke for her, and indeed which is preferable.
Does any of this matter? MIA's greatest weapon is her knack for rhythmic and lyrical hooks, and she provides those in spades. Lines such as "Somalia, Angola, Ghana, Ghana, Ghana, India, Sri Lanka, Burma, bamboo banger" mean nothing, but on a purely phonetic level are deeply satisfying. Her beats skitter and boom across the dancefloor, aiming straight for the feet of the crowd.
On stage, MIA loses some of the panache she possesses on record; she is not a naturally talented rapper. But she makes her music work. She nails the one-liners of Bamboo Banga, and captures the soul behind the massive synth stabs of Hussel. A triumphant Paper Planes brings the house down. Watching MIA perform is an exercise in enjoying yourself despite the rhetoric. Ultimately, the music wins out.
· At the Custard Factory, Birmingham, tonight (0121-224 7777). Then touring.
