We're probably right in our assumption that it's much to her chagrin that Coco Sumner's father, Sting, is so frequently mentioned in features about I Blame Coco.

But we're probably wrong in assuming we know why. During her gig at London's CAMP, PopDash's thesis developed. Just as her vocals draw from her lute-strumming antecedent, her performance has more than a hint of the Jaggers to it. The great shame is that only one of her many varied influences is so consistently credited.

As the band storm through a set of electro-pop bangers such as Caesar, her swaggering stage presence hypes the crowd into a tussling frenzy. With any other female voice, songs such as Selfmachine and the imminent release Quicker could be written off as light-hearted pop fodder. Which is fine by us, but her dark, husky vocals combine with the housey backing tracks to create an edgier, more credible sound. This explains a sharply dressed crowd mostly comprising those in their mid-thirties who have flocked to a venue which, if it were situated anywhere other than east London, would be described as a dingy pisshole.

The few teens present are entranced by the raw emotion of each track, swaying to It's About to Get Worse, moshing to the frenetic Caesar. They grab at Coco as she belts out the synthtacular Playwright's Fate, grins, and lends them the microphone to shout along.

Of Coco's beautiful, androgynous features, her awkwardness is second only to her headache-inducingly intense frown. After each song, she rasps "How you feelin', London?" as she tucks her hair behind her elfin ears and slouches around the stage. At the close of the set, the crowd wail for more; unfortunately, the cover of Neil Young's Only Love Can Break Your Heart is missing from the set. But that's ok, it gives this reviewer the perfect opportunity to slip in something of a Coco Sumner feature cliche: I Blame Coco.