Much (too much) has been made of Patrick Wolf's problems over the last few years.  If you know about them, forget them.  If you don't, don't even bother to find out.  His spectacular performance at the London Palladium quelled every critic, put every rumour to rest and established, if it ever needed establishing, that Patrick Wolf is an irreplaceable, untouchable star.

Micachu and the Shapes supported

Writing on his performance at Latitude Festival in July 2009, I said "the man was made for the stage".  That was an understatement.  At the Palladium, it felt like the stage was made for the man, that it had only ever existed prepare for Patrick Wolf, and would only continue to exist to remember him.  There are few artists out there with anything approaching the presence and dominance he has on stage.

Opening for Patrick Wolf were the much-blogged Micachu and the Shapes, who played a fantastic set, overturning the poor impression they created with their scattered, noisy set at Field Day in August and showing off the creativity of Micachu's songwriting.  Armed with bottles, keyboards and guitar riffs verging on the dissonant, they played an enjoyable set that was a sort of antidote to what was to come: where Patrick is overblown, they are understated; where Patrick flouts, prowls and commands, they stand shy and still; where Patrick expands to fill the stage, they shrink into themselves.  Their music spoke for itself, and it provided an excellent prelude to a fantastic night.

The safety curtain, down for the interval, resonated with the sound of 'Overture', which pulsed out over the crowd, bouncing off the palpable excitement perched on the edge of every seat, before being raised to reveal a crowded stage, a full strings section, backing singers, a band and Patrick Wolf dressed in black.  The atmosphere was, to drag another cliché howling from the vaults, electric, and that electricity was repaid.  Patrick played a long set (at least twenty songs from all four of his albums) of which every second was entertaining, every second was brilliant.

It was an emotional performance for Patrick Wolf

Certain moments, of course, stick out - he played the rarely-aired 'Paris', to "make up" for not playing it in the past; he had a few costume changes, running through a metamorphosis from his sombre black opening into a shining white as he span sparkling on a revolving stage and the curtain fell once more after his encore; and he had his slower, more moving moments, such as when he performed 'Thickets', or the tragic 'The Sun Is Often Out' during the encore.  Demonstrating his stature in the music world, he was able to call on a number of guests, including the unfathomably tall Gwendoline Christie for 'Oblivion' and the incredible 'Theseus', the bizarre electro-noise of Alec Empire and Florence Welch (yes, of the Machine fame) for 'The Bachelor'.

There was, however, one moment on which the whole performance hinged, one magical moment in a truly spectacular show.  The first was when Wolf launched into 'Hard Times' from his latest album The Bachelor, and a wave of affirmation swept across the Palladium.  The audience rose spontaneously from their seats and began to dance and sing along and as he sang 'show me some revolution/time for some resolution' there was a real sense that he could click his fingers and the entire theatre would either break down crying or storm Westminster.  As they say, you just had to be there.

Words by Robbie Hayward