There are concerts and then there are shows. Jason Derulo has long since chosen a side.The Royal Arena, on the Last Dance Tour, was transformed into a pop theater where fire, dancers and LED surfaces were as central as the melodies. And perhaps that is precisely the point. When you've got 17 years of radio hits in your luggage, it's not enough to line up and sing them. You have to stage them. And Derulo does -- uncompromisingly.
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Disclaimer: Apropos Magazine received access or a review copy. As always, we share our own impressions — unfiltered.
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Before the main act even steps into the light, LZ7 have already done their job. It’s a slightly curious booking – think Macklemore on a smaller budget with a splash of Christian youth festival energy and a QR code mentioned so often it starts to feel like product placement. Still, they bring what they’re there to bring: tempo, smiles, a bit of communal uplift. The crowd receives them kindly. The promise to return to Copenhagen later this year is met with polite applause. Professional. Not unforgettable – but it gets the room warm.
Then the countdown begins.
Dystopian visuals. Sirens. An almost apocalyptic intro that erupts in flames and a swarm of dancers – some locked inside glass cages like futuristic art installations. And then him. Jason Derulo. Moving with that particular kind of physical authority that makes gravity look optional.
He remains an extraordinary performer. Elastic, explosive, surgically precise. The choreography hits on the millimetre, and the staging is built around relentless motion. There is no stillness. No empty surfaces. Royal Arena becomes a canvas where each song is given its own aesthetic universe.
About ten minutes in, the speech arrives. The classic one: gratitude, humility, the “Day 1 fans.” It’s routine, yes – but delivered with genuine enthusiasm. The segue into “Whatcha Say” is dramaturgically smart, though slightly premature. The audience hasn’t quite found its pulse yet, and the emotional peak never fully lands.
Derulo works constantly with transitions. Long LED panels rise and fall to signal new chapters – clever in theory, perhaps overused in practice. Several times he disappears before you’ve had the chance to anchor yourself in the moment. A shirtless video interlude later, we’re suddenly in what can only be described as “Derulo Jungle”: tropical aesthetic, flames (again), dancers in coordinated costumes. It’s committed. It’s polished. It borders on sensory overload.
“It Girl” becomes one of the evening’s more ambivalent moments. A circular projection multiplies Derulo into a kind of kaleidoscopic illusion behind the stage. Visually striking, but also confusing – more than once, you’re unsure where the actual Derulo is. The song, which should be a guaranteed highlight, loses momentum. Not helped by the fact that it – like several others – is shortened. Many of the hits arrive as fragments in a medley rather than as full narratives.
And that’s where you feel the distinction between concert and show.
A genuinely strong moment comes during “Savage Love,” when the music abruptly stops because someone in the audience is unwell. Derulo handles it calmly, professionally, settles the room, then resumes without theatrics. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks to experience.
Throughout the set, snippets of other artists’ songs are woven in. The crowd reacts – especially when recognition hits – but at times it feels slightly arbitrary. The band, who are in fact solid throughout, are largely tucked away. The modern pop orchestra pit seems to be standard now, but it’s a shame when capable musicians are hidden from view. A video introduction of the band on a lowered screen is clearly meant as a spotlight moment, yet lands more as technical interlude than tribute.
The true climax comes during what Derulo himself labels the “Derulo Vulcano” segment. “Cheyenne” detonates in a rock-infused version where the band steps forward and the intensity surges. “Breathing,” in the same stretch, is another standout – here, the balance between vocal, choreography and live energy comes closest to something electric.
And yes: there’s the worm. There are flying flips. There’s an oversized outro. The DJ steps forward near the end with yet another medley – including an unexpected declaration of love for “I Gotta Feeling” by The Black Eyed Peas – before “Talk Dirty” and “Want to Want Me” close the night. The audience gets exactly what it came for.
ason Derulo is, undeniably, a showman. His physical control, timing and command of the room operate at a level few can match. But there are moments when the headset mic and the backing tracks become a little too audible. Some sequences are choreographed so tightly that spontaneity evaporates. Everything is engineered for perfection – and for control.
That may be the concert’s paradox. It is exquisitely constructed. Every beat, every light cue, every step is calculated. And because of that, it can occasionally feel distant. You find yourself wishing for a crack in the machinery. A moment where the show doesn’t direct him – but he disrupts the show.
Still, the craftsmanship is undeniable. Jason Derulo delivers precisely what he promises: a global pop spectacle with pyro, visuals, dancers and a catalogue of hits that have been road-tested for nearly two decades. Royal Arena was warmed on a cold Copenhagen evening, and the crowd left with sweat on their foreheads and hooks looping in their heads.
It’s not artistically radical.
It’s not intimate.
But it’s effective.
And sometimes, that’s enough.
Reflection
Jason Derulo at Royal Arena wasn’t aiming to surprise. It was aiming to impress. And for the most part, it did. A pop machine in peak condition – not without room for adjustment, but powered by genuine enthusiasm and an unmistakable physical presence.
