Avril Lavigne
Zénith, Paris
'This song is for all the girls,' hollers Avril Lavigne. 'Stand up for yourselves. Be strong and be able to say no to horny boys.'
In a pop culture that is saturated with images of schoolgirl jailbait, Lavigne's blunt declaration that it is OK not to put out is admirable. With her fondness for throwing devil signs, dressing down and strapping on a guitar, she has assiduously cultivated herself as the anti-Britney and firmly planted herself in camp rock. But given the increasingly hysterical antics of Mrs Federline, she is going to have to work hard to out-punk the Louisiana pop princess.
At the same time as the press was peppered with references to Britney's 'faux' wedding to dancer Kevin Federline, Lavigne was apparently set to get engaged to Sum 41 frontman Deryck Whibley; the story was quickly quashed. But given that they are both famous and probably quite lonely, perhaps Spears and Lavigne are not that different after all.
Lavigne's persona as a kick-ass teen punk has turned her into a global phenomenon - her debut album Let Go shifted more than 14 million copies. Then again, like Spears, she has no shortage of detractors, whose beef springs from the disparity between her rock-chick persona and her beginnings as a country singer with a strict Christian upbringing in rural Napanee, Canada.
Tellingly, her second album, Under My Skin, has moved on from the infectious snappy buzz of Let Go , acquiring a darker quality as it chews over the emotional fallout of relationships. Sonically however, to her fans' delight, it is still pretty close to her debut.
Her monster 'Bonez' tour to promote the new release (it refers to bones, she quips, in case you're confused, 'Cos they're under my skin, that's funny right?') finds 7,000 Parisians flocking to le Zénith, a clinical Eighties-style sports hall, on the eastern edge of the city.
From the off, there's no messing about. The band tear into 'He Wasn't', a classic number about the misery of a wasted Saturday waiting for a loser boyfriend to call. It perfectly encapsulates her appeal to introspective and lovesick adolescents. Brandishing sickly green 'Avril' glowsticks and lighters (one wag has also brought along a skateboard), the crowd give her a raucous reception, with a volley of screams and stamping.
Lavigne and her four-piece band of young rock dudes exude confidence and create a slick racket. A diminutive figure, she is dressed in straightahead rock'n'roll uniform of black drainpipes; a skinny-fit black T-shirt and some shiny brothel creepers. Her look is aped by the young girls in the audience and, perhaps as a reflection of France's uncoolness in the pop stakes, there are plenty of boys present too, although they've had the good sense not to go for the eyeliner.
There's no denying that Lavigne has talent. Her strong voice soars through rousing choruses and softly-softly verses. In the name of authenticity, she strikes out a fuzz of barre chords on her guitar before swapping it for a grand piano and coming across like a low-key folkie for a few acoustic numbers.
Predictably it is high-speed pop nuggets such as 'Sk8er Boi' that stoke the crowd into a frenzy of gentle moshing. The radio-friendly skate anthem, written by the Matrix, propelled Lavigne to global superstar status. But the production team, who also worked with the likes of Darius, were passed over for the second record. It is clear that she has a preference for performing the darker material from Under My Skin , and tracks such as 'Forgotten' and the new single 'Nobody's Home' are rendered truly convincing live.
Lavigne is not a natural show-woman. She lacks the ferocity of proper punk nihilism and the co-ordinated stagecraft and pizzazz of true pop. Instead, she paces the stage agitatedly, occasionally punching the air in the same faint-hearted manner as Tim Henman. But it doesn't matter. She could easily stand still and twitch her little finger and Parisians would still swoon at her feet. As if to prove this point, Lavigne is barely able to conceal her boredom during a rendition of her biggest hit 'Complicated' - replacing the title word with 'constipated' in the opening line.
Lavigne is a record executive's dream as an alternative act, cashing in on teenagers' demands for something more visceral from their pop. Her sound cleverly appropriates the more palatable elements of alternative rock and varnishes them with commercial sensibility.
But a night in Avril's company is an enjoyable reel through catchy pop hooks that don't threaten to choke you with naffness. And you know the show won't resort to trashy sexual gimmicks. It is neatly packaged and sanitised teenage rebellion for the disaffected. If you can't get over your adult suspicion that it is all a thieving sham, then you're taking it too seriously.
· Avril Lavigne's UK tour begins tonight at Manchester MEN Arena
