Lulu’s remarkable London show saw two sworn enemies reunite

The first clue came even before Lulu sang a note.

The montage that played across the above-stage screen – Lulu with David Bowie, The Beatles, acting in Absolutely Fabulous, clips of James Bond for which she produced the theme song The Man with the Golden Gun – served as a reminder that few performers have left as many fingerprints on as many corners of British entertainment.

From the moment she appeared on stage for this one-off concert at London’s Royal Albert Hall, raising funds for the charity “Lulu’s Mental Health Trust”, the reception – from a crowd largely around her age of 77 – was warm and affectionate. Lulu said she felt like she was performing for a “big family” – a description that felt particularly apt considering the presence of her younger sister Edwina, who performed as her backing singer, and her young grandson, who joined her on stage for selected songs.

Watching her command the Royal Albert Hall, it wasn’t just her longevity that was remarkable, nor her energy, but the category of entertainer that she represents. Lulu emerged in an era when fame was not built around a single skill or platform but around the ability to hold a room. Regardless of the decades of career history on display, the show never felt like an exercise in nostalgia – it was a celebration in its own right.

She opened with the Eurovision-winning 1969 hit Boom, Bang-a-Bang, joined by this year’s Australia’s Eurovision star Delta Goodrem, before moving effortlessly through six decades of entertainment history. Later, she harmonised with archive footage of David Bowie on one of their most famous collaborations, The Man Who Sold the World, before sharing another virtual duet with the late Tina Turner onI Don’t Want to Fight, the song she co-wrote for Turner’s biographical film What’s Love Got to Do With It.

But none of this felt like a greatest-hits package. Such is the breadth of Lulu’s catalogue that you feel that she could seemingly choose any number and that it would serve as a gateway into a larger story, collaboration or cultural moment.

An early emotional peak arrived with To Sir, With Love from the 1967 film of the same name. Against a backdrop of clips and photographs from the film, Lulu remembered working alongside Sidney Poitier, describing it as “the greatest honour of my life”. The audience responded with a standing ovation – the first of many of the evening.

The most revealing moments were not necessarily the songs themselves. They were Lulu’s impeccable performance skills. Uninhibited, her sharp dance moves – and even the occasional jump, despite wearing platform shoes – were matched by her distinctive, full-throated voice that still carries with ease.

Although a performer could have easily been eclipsed by her esteemed guests, Lulu remained at the centre of proceedings. Boy George joined her for Karma Chameleon and Gary Barlow was at the piano for A Million Love Songs.

Then came Robbie Williams, whose performance of Angels had the audience singing along word for word. Yet when he returned for Relight My Fire, joined by Barlow, it became clear that this was the evening’s true climax. Williams and Barlow – previously sworn enemies – traded lines from either side of the stage, performing the track together for the first time in more than 15 years. Positioned between them, Lulu appeared almost to conduct the moment. Thankfully, for anyone worried about any remaining tension, the affection and camaraderie between the three was unmistakable.

Male performers have long been allowed to age into respected elder statesmen. Female artists have often faced a narrower window in which they are expected to remain visible. Pop music has rarely been as generous. Yet there was nothing apologetic about Lulu’s presence. Dressed in a sparkling black top, tailored blazer and fringed black trousers that moved with her, her voice strong and her energy undimmed, she was not presented as a heritage act being wheeled out for sentimental purposes. Nor did she behave like one. She had the confidence, charisma and audience connection she always has.

Today, fame is often built on access. Audiences expect stars to share insights into their personal lives, political opinions and daily routines. Despite being more open now – detailing her addiction in her new memoir and speaking openly about the importance of mental health – Lulu comes from a generation whose appeal was built differently. These performers did not invite audiences into their lives. They invited them into a room and made sure they enjoyed being there.

By the time the evening reached its jubilant conclusion, that distinction felt important. As the audience filed out of the Royal Albert Hall, it would have been easy to describe the night as a celebration of longevity. But that would miss the point. What feels increasingly scarce is the kind of performer who can sing, chat, charm, tell stories and hold the attention of thousands of people through little more than force of personality and a voice like no other.

More than six decades after first finding fame, Lulu’s greatest achievement isn’t her endurance. It is that she has always known exactly how to hold a room.