Supporting tonight at Gateshead’s The Glasshouse is Richard Walters, who has co-written tracks with Moyet in the past including ‘The English U’. Walters plays a five-track, fully acoustic set including ‘Gather’ and a cover of Robyn’s ‘With Every Heartbeat’. He goes on to sing about problematic artist Kanye West, a track which he announces is “applicable to all arseholes”, ‘King of Leaves’, and then becomes a little soppier for aptly named ‘Unconditional’ and his finisher, an unreleased song called ‘Video’ about a Friday night at video shop Blockbuster, is inspired by a trip to a museum which dedicated an entire floor to the 90s. Walters’ focus is purely on voice and guitar only - there’s an empty space around him meaning every note and lyric is easily followed to allow full appreciation of the lines he wrote and his agile vocals; his set is certainly more grounding than expected from a Moyet support but appreciated nonetheless.

Beloved icon Moyet commences her set to a dark and misted stage with sabre light strips to ‘Alive’, from ‘Other’, a suspenseful opener where the singer belts “I still want you’ over dramatic sounds and groaning, electronic riffs.

She then gets right into some of the very best of her Yazoo numbers (‘Bad Connection’, ‘Ode to Boy’, wholesome ballad ‘Mr Blue’ and ‘Nobody’s Diary’) with the latter’s perky, unmistakably 80s synths placing the moment right back where she began, and for many here, likely taking them back to what they grew up listening to. She describes this era as “the dance”. The tracks that follow, from her solo work, are from a part of her life where the music was no longer blindsided by youth and other people’s approval of her, and so the transition into the latter, reflective mood is fascinating to hear and appreciate as she has ever-continued to explore the sounds she likes and detesting commercial pressures. It’s this refusal to carry on making the same music constantly that keeps the entire set engaging and even a little unpredictable.

That said, fans of her early music may still be surprised by her gothic depth and versatility, particularly on the haunting ‘I Germinate’ and ‘Lover, Go’, both from ‘Other’, where there’s a sharp contrast against the blissful, synth-y bops of early-set tracks like ‘Nobody’s Diary’ compared to her solo work which is rich with experience, life-changes, and the confidence to offer a totally different lens to view and hear her through, with the vital pillars remaining: her unmistakable voice and magnetism.

She often sings just before the band (Sean McGhee, Brendan Cox and Paul Jones, who surround her in a triangular formation) come in seconds later to allow her vocals to command, the acoustics of the Glasshouse assist in ensuring her rich contralto is carried around the room without a loss in quality.

At this point, she talks about being the “other” and how hard being different was as a youngster but now that she’s older she embraces it, adding that being older means she doesn’t care about other people’s impressions of her to make her feel good - an important anecdotal message for all ages. She defiantly sings ‘Beautiful Gun’, a track which blends both rock and electronic elements with its jeering riffs and bold demeanour. 

Immaculate staging complements her as she dresses in a slick, black two-piece and brogues - a call-back to the outfits she wore in the 80s - and dances with the mic in a serpentine fashion - with a confidence and stern, assertive manner that represents her imposing tenure in the industry, a feeling reciprocated by the astonished reactions, hollering and intense rounds of applause at the end of every single track. This energy is to be expected from Moyet, but she wittily adds that she slept for 12 and a half hours last night compared to her usual five, which might have helped.

Before performing ‘Filigree’, she tells us about the story that inspired ‘the minutes’ - a trip to the cinema with her dad to see a three hour long film that she almost walked out of. However, she stayed ‘til the end and a five-minute clip made her weep and inspired the song with a metaphor to not give up too quickly that became an entire record.

This reflective, duskier segment fades out and the artist changes the mood again with ‘Only You’, a 1982 song which has been covered countless times due the memorable melody throughout its verses and chorus and its opening sequence is met with cheers. 

She closes the show with the distinguishable rush of electronica on ahead-of-its-time Yazoo classic ‘Don’t Go’. Her songs explore all limits of a synth and an electronic board; her words and penetrating tones creates an awe-inspiring chasm of sonic pleasure.

Each track performed so organically tonight that they don’t feel like play throughs of her hits, they feel new and re-imagined as she pours her current self into them. Moyet cleverly plays with nostalgia but makes it clear that she is not looking back, she’s performing them as they mean her today and making them stronger.