Nicki Minaj in the 3 Arena, Dublin, on March 31st 2015

It’s a funny, fascinating, confounding and often contradictory old thing, the Nicki Minaj persona. In one breath she’s singing about family and lost love, dispensing inspirational pep-talks, in the next breathless onslaught we find her rapping about reptilian dicks, slinging coke, and gargantuan asses (even if Anaconda’s “Fuck them skinny bitches in the club/ I wanna see all the big fat ass bitches in the motherfucking club” couplet is conspicuously absent from this evening’s rendition). Now three albums in with 2014’s ‘The Pinkprint’, Minaj is in the midst of her third international tour off the back of that record, tonight bringing her Technicolor visage to Dublin’s 3Arena.

It’s a predominantly teenaged crowd, and younger again if the piercing squeals that greet Minaj ascending through dry ice from a hole in the stage floor like a ghetto Lady of the Lake are anything to go by; veiled, mysterious and commanding attention. ‘The Pinkprint’s first four tracks open the show, with Minaj backed by a live drummer, synths, and keys all mounted on a monolithic platform to her formidable rear. Feeling Myself takes on a more raunchy hue than the three previous numbers, with the singer joined by five fishnet bodystocking-clad dancers, setting things a world apart from her demure (by Minaj’s standards) introduction.

Joined then by two male groovers, the dance troupe fluidly move as one from one end of the stage to the other during Moment 4 Life, but as happens on a few occasions during the show, momentum is stalled as Minaj retreats into the monolith or descends beneath the stage floor for a costume change.

As her smiles become more frequent towards the adulation that greets her every utterance, her engagement with the crowd increases, particularly when she conducts them through a miscellany of rap songs with her band, a playful pop quiz that the young attendees largely pass. A wee ickle girl is brought onstage to be fawned over for Whip It, while the song’s vocals are provided by a lad plucked from the audience who nails it, in fairness to him…so much so that our ‘plant’ senses are tingling.

A piano makes an appearance, bringing with it a mid-set ballad segment that seems to trigger the piss/pint synapse in a sizeable chunk of the audience, but it’s back to business with a bang for the ensuing Super Bass. The set’s high points come with Minaj’s mile-a-minute turns of phrase, the band’s accelerated beats, and plenty of theatrical flair – a spot of simulated sex between the dancers during Anaconda, a grimey Trini Dem Girls, Minaj prowling lasciviously over a spread-eagled dancer through Big Sean’s Dance (A$$). All of this is lapped up by a vocal, increasingly clammy venue. But as Nicki tells ‘em, “A little stickiness never hurt nobody”

From Pound The Alarm onwards in the latter stages, practically everyone is on their feet, through David Gueta and Jessie J romps – all banging, bass-laded technopop – to The Night Is still Young with its mass fist pump and Minaj’s inspirational interlude (stay in school, don’t let no man rule your life etc.) and finally the glitter cannon full-stop of Starship.

Despite the whirlwind dance moves (where even a ballet performance has its place) and Minaj’s often-inspired vocal gymnastics, it’s a spotty show. It’s when there’s a flurry of beats, words and sundry activity popping off from Minaj that she seems in her comfort zone. These sections where your eyes and ears are blitzed with such action are the ones in which the flaws are indiscernible. Less successful are the faux-soul ballads and lazy high-volume blasters that round out the set, where anything can be going on as long as the bass drum is banging hard and fast enough and the lights are flashing.

Naysayers were in the minority for this one, though, and if the reaction of tonight’s crowd is any indication, Minaj’s stock is still only rising.