The sweltering afternoon sun did not do Róisín Murphy justice at V Festival. While she looked the part, the Irish chanteuse seemed to wilt under her revolving wardrobe of tailored jackets, metallic sunglasses, body suits, feathers and more hats than a milliners’ market. Patchy sound only drew attention to the niggling awkwardness. It’s fair to say she’s more an after-dark kind of girl – and what better way to prove it than a sold-out gig at a 1,500-capacity venue?

Come 10pm, the Metro Theatre’s tiered dancefloor is shoulder-to-shoulder. There’s an even spread of walking haircuts, Darlinghurst darlings, Midnight Shift-ers and Róisín stalkers. The drummer strolls onstage unassumingly, eliciting a sort of half-cheer. Before long the whole band is jamming to the busy, pulsing opening strains of Cry Baby and the sound system is holding up famously. The two back-up singers are, to put it poetically, very sexy. They can also sing. The lady we all came to see approaches the microphone nonchalantly in the first of many fancy dress moments, and we all unleash our inner schoolgirl. A bit of darkness goes a long way. This actually looks like a show – cascading visuals on the back wall, precisely-cued lighting and a dim ambience you can’t replicate in the open air.

The between-songs jams (mostly to bide time while Murphy rifles through her dress-up box) are far from spontaneous, but there are enough electronic flourishes to engage the feet. You Know Me Better is weaved in seamlessly, heralding another look-at-me hat. Murphy’s vocals were swamped at V Festival, but tonight she’s leading from the front. The whole thing feels super-tight, if somewhat contrived. A wash of red-tinted palm trees greets Dear Miami, complete with choreographed dance moves from the back-up beauties. Murphy is a beguiling stage presence throughout; a mix of poise and aloofness. Some of that studied detachment is shaken off for Primitive, one of her best songs. Purring various sections to each male band member, she finally rocks out at the end in a blur of blond hair. It’s such a scorcher that Footsteps, Scarlet Ribbons and Movie Star can’t compete. The latter is pretty unpleasant to listen to on CD, but on stage it gets a rock-cabaret overhaul that features the night’s most ridiculous headpiece.

Dressed from head to toe in Little Red Riding Hood garb, Murphy introduces Truth, her slow-burning collaboration with Handsome Boy Modelling School. With this song, it all clicks. The chatters stop chatting and all eyes are at attention. It’s a true showstopper, stunningly sung and played. The girl can really rap – yes, rap – too. There’s a new energy in the room after such a seductive vocal performance, and it only builds with a rendition of Moloko’s Forever More. The Roy Lichtenstein inspired visuals of interlocking comic strips are superb, while all three voices harmonise beautifully. After this welcome diversion into unexpected territory, Let Me Know doesn’t feel as exuberant as it should, despite the “reach for me” refrain added by Murphy. Overpowered, the single many came to see, is a pure sugar-rush – complete with flickering strobe and big, housey crescendos. Instant dance party.

After the band files off, a loved-up chant of “Róisín, Róisín!” ensures they’re back before long. Tell Everybody doesn’t raise much of a pulse, particularly after raving to Overpowered. Ramalama (Bang Bang) though, is a raucous set closer, despite its relative obscurity. Murphy tosses herself around the stage in black frills, play-fighting with the singers as she chants the fiery chorus. On her way out she quips, “We’ve tried to be environmentally friendly – and no one got hurt in the making of this show.” On a night like this, you can’t help but take her word for it.