Years & Years review, O2 Arena London: A rainbow-dappled, sexually expressive triumph

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“There is entrenched homophobia at all levels of the music industry,” said Years & Years frontman Olly Alexander in a recent interview with The Independent. But there’s none of that at Wednesday night’s rainbow-dappled, sexually expressive O2 Arena show. Here, “you’re free to be who you want to be, and love who you want to love”.

Those are not actually the words of Alexander, by the way, but of London mayor Sadiq Khan. Somewhat bafflingly, he appears on the big screen as the gig begins, to introduce the electro-pop three-piece. It’s a little jarring, but its earnestness gets it through. Besides, as soon as Alexander has appeared in what looks like a black armoured vest and diamond necklace, his chest and arms covered in fake tattoos, all else is forgotten.

When Years & Years first emerged in 2014, Alexander struggled to keep his voice – with its strange, jittery inflections and bullet-spray vibrato – in check live. But in the four years that have followed, the 28-year-old has honed and harnessed his instrument, and the band, also comprising Mikey Goldsworthy and Emre Türkmen, have tightened their sound. A good job, too, because the album on display here, this year’s loosely conceptual Palo Santo, is one glitchy, intricate melody after another.

Flanked by variously hued sci-fi cityscapes, Alexander writhes across the stage to lead single “Sanctify”, barely missing a note. His dancers – with whom, male or female, he is often sensually tangled – perform moves so jaw-dropping they almost distract from everything else. At one point they spin horizontally in the air before landing in a death drop.

Nothing can detract, though, from the dramatic set-piece that accompanies the album’s title track. With a huge moon shrouded in purple smoke behind him, Alexander is lifted up high on a platform, as the shimmering silver material of his dress (or is it a backwards cape?) rises with him. The dancers prostrate themselves at his feet. As we all do, in spirit.

When Alexander returns from a brief costume change, it is as a silhouetted figure behind an illuminated white square. “I wanna hide in the light,” he sings to the clattering beats of debut album track “Worship”. But he isn’t hiding for long. The evening is about flaunting and flourishing, after all.

“You know when you’re playing a video game and Mario needs to eat mushrooms to get big and stay alive?” Alexander said in that same interview. “Playing shows to queer people, it kind of feels like that. It restores my energy.” The feeling’s mutual.