Little Mix review – a sassy sugar rush that's short on spectacle but long on screams

It’s been six years and four albums since Little Mix became the first group to win The X Factor. Judging by the crowd gathered at the Twickenham Stoop on Sunday night, a decent portion of their current fans may have been born after they claimed their victory on live TV. It’s surprising just how young this crowd is. There is a school-disco feel to the evening, from the co-ordinated Macarena routine before the band appears, to the concessions stands selling popcorn and pick’n’mix. There is a clear divide between the parents who are up for it – there’s a man walking around selling white wine by the bottle, and it doesn’t look as if he’s struggling – and those who are resigned to sitting wearily, holding armfuls of merchandise and long-forgotten homemade signs, until it’s all over.

This is understandable. There are few more bracing ways to spend an evening than with several thousand under-11s amped up on sugar, light-up bunny ears and the unmatchable thrill of seeing their favourite pop stars in the flesh. So when Jesy Nelson shouts, panto-style, from the stage, “Twickenham, we can’t hear you!”, she must be the only person in a 10-mile radius who’s having trouble. If there were a roof on the Stoop, excitement levels would be soaring through it. The fans know every word of every song. And if anyone is keen to know where the record-buying public is hiding, it’s here, in the pre-tween demographic: there’s a roar of assent when they ask if everyone has bought their latest album, Glory Days.

But there is also a strange disconnect between what Little Mix do, and what the audience seems to hear. They open with Power and Black Magic; huge pop bangers well served by choreography that appears to be exclusively hair-flick based. Musically, the group is working out a setting somewhere between old school All Saints and Survivor-era Destiny’s Child, all militaristic stomping to irresistible beats and lyrics about being defiant in love. It’s obvious that the crowd is getting something more like S Club Seven: a warm picture of strong friendship and dance moves they can work out with their mates at school. There’s a muted response to Leigh-Anne Pinnock dedicating Secret Love Song to “our beautiful LGBT fans … we want to encourage you to be exactly who you are”. Perhaps that’s because it’s a ballad about not being able to hold hands in public or kiss on the dancefloor, and therefore may not live up to its intended Pride anthem credentials. More comically, just before they launch into Hair, Jesy Nelson yells: “Who in the crowd is feeling sexy tonight?” The uptake is not substantial. She switches tack. “Are we feeling sassy?” she says, and the kids roar to life again.

Little Mix are doing a lot with a little on this tour. They are mesmerising performers who command devotion. They show off their harmonising skills with several a cappella interludes. They’re armed with a back catalogue of undeniable smashes, and the concise set barely lags: Wings, Touch and a rabble-rousing finale of Shout Out to My Ex all conjure a frenzied response. Kids head-to-toe in merch, from Get Weird baseball caps to Glory Days T-shirts, are standing on chairs, doing cartwheels and screaming with overwhelming adoration. There’s a near stampede in an attempt to grab just a strand of streamer to take home as a souvenir. It’s totally joyful, in a back-to-basics, Smash Hits Poll Winners’ Party, Radio 1 Roadshow way.

It is, however, a no-frills kind of event, and the production values are not so much low as non-existent. There’s no backing band; there are just four other dancers. A big screen behind them plays video of the four band members singing and dancing in a studio, while the screens at the sides show them singing and dancing right there on the stage. Aside from a brief flash of pyro and that streamers moment, there is little in the way of spectacle. In what amounts to pop show blasphemy, there is only one costume change, in which they switch from a racing flag get-up to something seemingly inspired by a deconstructed motorway roadworks sign. This is not exactly Gaga busting the budget with the Monster Ball tour.

But in the end, you’d be hard pushed to find many here who care. Ultimately, Little Mix know their crowd. They play games to see who can cheer the loudest; they turn a camera on embarrassed dads who don’t know the words during a co-ordinated singalong to some of their “old-school” hits. At every turn, kids are squealing with delight. The overall effect may be short-lived, but in the moment, Little Mix are intense, frantic and thrilling: it’s a real sugar-rush of a show.

• At Donington Park racetrack, Castle Donington, 1 July. Box office: 0844-844 0444. Then touring the UK until 16 July.