Missy Elliott at Ericsson Stadium

By REBECCA BARRY

Don't forget to send Missy Elliott a Christmas card this year - she's part of the whanau now. The Virginian hip-hop star was so taken with her Maori welcome at the airport she wants to be your cousin and your auntie. Oh, and a warning: she'll be rocking up for dinner at your place soon.

But if all the love and stuff was cheap hype, the show was always going to be a fabulously flashy spectacle. Arriving on stage in a circus-style box, the smartest woman in hip-hop emerged in what looked like Prince's black silk suit and hat, as some of her 20 dancers jiggled around her in naughty, cheerleading outfits. Later, she pulled a Moses move and made her way through the crowd, flanked by security guards. The outfits kept coming, too - a shiny Adidas number and what looked like Diana Ross' pyjamas.

When the music came, she was unbeatable, charging around the stage as the bass took over on I'm Really Hot, Pass that Dutch and Work It, her unique mix of braggadocio and nonsensical scat blasting over Timbaland's choppy, futuristic beats.

Unfortunately, the music was as short and sharp as the title of One-Minute Man, and even that song was compressed into a medley. All up, the music would have lasted for just under an hour.

The rest of the time was filled with sell-out banter and solo spots for at least half of the dancing crew - admittedly the dancers deserved it, particularly their ridiculously good fusion of ghetto moves, line-dancing and Riverdance.

As for Missy's reported bout of bronchitis that put an end to her press conference a day earlier, it seemed to have mysteriously cleared up. In fact, she loved to chat.

"Y'all should be jumping unless you're in a wheelchair!" she crowed before the DJ broke into the spartan bass attack of Get Ur Freak On. The MC was equally vocal but his calls for Mexican waves and louder screams grew increasingly tiresome. You're in New Zealand, mate; that's as loud as we get.

Just as the show would edge towards brilliance, the businesswoman in her took over. First, she made a huge show of chucking her rhinestone-encrusted sneakers into the crowd - each shoe took about five minutes. And by the time she'd signed her 10th T-shirt, the Supertop was starting to feel like a Westfield mall. Even more so when the MC went on about making her album go platinum.

Finally, in what is possibly the most lacklustre concert ending in history, a record company rep trod on stage to present her with a gold disc. Perhaps that scared her off as there was no encore, no big hit to keep us humming our way to the record store.

As for that dinner, don't be surprised if she brings a big shiny plate with not much on it.