Amanda Palmer, with her faraway eyes and killer attitude forces you to re-evaluate your relationship with your mother. Her songs ricochet with laughing irony and ends in an intimate serenade which will leave you sighing with contentment and head reeling with aural ecstasy.

She started off the show with the crowd-pleaser “Missed Me” (at least I think it’s a crowd-pleaser, its one of her more popular songs, no?) and ended with “Hallelujah” (I stole glances at the only minah tudung there and cracked a lame attempt at a joke on shayhar. I couldn’t help it.)

With my ice-cold mojito in hand I waited, with about 60 other people, without much expectation really. Prior to the gig I’ve only heard two of her songs, “missed me” and “my alcoholic friends”, both with a bit of a cabaret-punk feel. I don’t really know much about genres but whenever I listen to her music I always imagine myself to be in a fancy schmancy cabaret act with gangster punks, ‘scene’ rejects and whatnots. But I knew she was gonna be awesome.

It was a simple yet perfect setting: a keyboard, a ukulele, a small table for her drinks, and a couple of lesbian fangirls in an intimate bar. I almost wept when she did a cover of “Fake plastic trees” by Radiohead and “Look Mummy no hands” by that other person (name’s escaping me sorry). Do not be fooled by her naked eyebrows and corseted boobs for she was the most adorable performer, injecting anecdotes about forgetting certain chords and singing about Google in San Francisco.

When the encore ended, face gleaming with gratitude she exclaimed, “Support indie!”. Wah piang. Indie siol. There I was with my shamelessly mainstream ipod full with Britney Spears and Black Eyed Peas. Hur Hur. “Yeah…?!” I shouted back uncertainly. Amongst the crowd were kohl-lined eyes of some half-shaved heads, doctor martens and a littering of studs, beating their chests in surrender.

This is why I’m willing to pay for gigs and concerts. Nothing will make you feel as validated as a human being as when you are head-banging with strangers to a song that’s been accompanying you through your heartbreaks, late night triumphs and resentments. Everyone comes from somewhere else but we all mirror the same expression- that jaw-dropping look of awe at the brilliance that is Amanda Palmer.