Doja Cat3Arena, Dublin★★★★★Outside Dublin’s 3Arena the crowd glitters with face gems, sparkly acrylic nails, diamanté boots and the tiniest possible sequinned shorts despite the cold wind and rain coming off the Liffey.Once we’re all inside, and the lights finally go out, a lone trumpet cuts through the darkness with La Vie en Rose. A hush falls over the arena. Then a spotlight reveals Doja Cat rising slowly from a trapdoor in an angelic white pantsuit, holding an enormous red rose. She ascends higher and higher above the crowd, singing, while endless white trouser legs stream beneath her like silk banners. Behind her the band stand backlit in black sequins and evening wear. Then the beat shifts and Doja Cat starts rapping, suspended high in the air. It’s a brilliant opening, extravagant and knowing.Kiss Me More arrives with Doja transformed into a sort of punk pin-up doll: hot-pink heels, tartan tights, black-and-pink thong and a matching bra. The camera follows her backside in close-up and the crowd responds with delighted hysteria.Over the next two hours Doja Cat proves herself an utterly magnetic performer, switching in an instant from tender, vulnerable singing to snarling rap verses. Sexy, certainly, but above all funny, a born comedian with impeccable control of timing and tone. One moment she glides across the stage with poise; the next she’s crawling on all fours like some possessed cabaret creature, cackling maniacally. Comparisons to Nicki Minaj are inevitable: the wit, the precision, the deadliness. But there is also something of her other hero, Nina Hagen, in her thrilling wildness and weirdness. She gives the impression that the show could veer off the rails at any moment, while remaining completely in control of it. The 1980s-inflected material from her album Vie sounds richer and heavier live than it does on record. The songs may not be immediate hits, but they come alive when performed. The band leans hard into brass, percussion and thick basslines, and there’s even a genuinely successful keytar solo. Paint the Town Red lands with particular force, while Tia Tamera and Boss Bitch receive the night’s loudest reactions. Older hits such as Say So are stripped of their sweetness and given a more aggressive edge.The production is surprisingly restrained by contemporary pop standards. There are flame-throwers, fireworks and bubble guns, but the set itself remains largely static, with relatively few costume changes. Rather than feeling underpowered, the simplicity works in the show’s favour. Nothing distracts from the music or from Doja herself. She dances almost nonstop, dropping into splits, crawling across the stage, dangling the mic cord from her heel, and seeming to enjoy every second of it.Walking home through the rain afterwards, my friend and I agree: if we could be anyone in the world, we’d be Doja Cat.