Is the world ready for the musical love child of Lady Gaga and Tom Morello? If last night’s sold out concert at the Commodore Ballroom was any indication, it’s exactly what Vancouver’s been waiting for.

Like Gaga, St Vincent (Annie Clark to her friends), is a master of provocation, combining fashion and choreography to entertain and challenge in equal doses. Like Morello, she’s a guitar genius, wringing sounds and shapes out of her instrument that defy explanation.

In Pictures: St. Vincent blends performance art, rock riffs at sold out show

Still, on last night’s evidence, she isn’t going to make it easy on listeners. Refusing to rely on pop hooks or rock riffs, she’s charting new musical territory. Her challenge to her audience: are you able to come along for the ride?

The confrontational aspect of Clark’s art was evident from the show’s opener, “Rattlesnake,” its jerky choreography performed with a poker face, its electronic rhythm shaken up by the arrival of the first of countless insane guitar solos.

“Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen,” she smiled, three songs into the set. “And good evening others.”

Having toured with the David Byrne, the Godfather of Weird Pop, two years ago, Clark has now mastered the art of oddness. Addressing the crowd rarely, her between-song banter consisted entirely of the similarities everyone present shared. Apparently, all our friends gave us a nickname back in 1995. That nickname is Peaches.

But such nonsensical proclamations somehow felt right at home at a concert that was always more performance art than party time.

“Every Tear Disappears,” “Surgeon,” “Cheerleader” and “Year of the Tiger” followed in quick succession, jazz solos and doom metal riffs interrupting gentle electronic ballads. The genre hopping was a key part of the St Vincent sensory overload master plan. One moment she was a butter-wouldn’t-melt porcelain doll perched at the top of a small flight of on-stage stairs. The next, she was an avant-metal maniac, flailing around the stage, defenceless against the power of the music coming out of her own guitar. Technically gifted enough to take these giant steps while simultaneously challenging gender roles, the traditions of concert pacing and hit placements were torn up. It was up to the audience to keep up.

Doing so admirably throughout was supporting player Toko Yasuda, who handled her guitar/keyboard/dancing responsibilities with ease and precision, and even had the energy left to rip out an epic Theremin solo during “Northern Lights.”

But the evening belonged to Clark, who returned alone for an encore of a gentle, acoustic-sounding “Strange Mercy,” before her band joined her on stage for a rendition of “Your Lips are Red” that ended in an armageddon of guitar noise.

Is the world ready for a unique all-dancing, all-shredding genre-spanning musical genius? As St Vincent continues to infiltrate the musical mainstream, the bottom line is that Annie Clark really doesn’t seem to care. This isn’t a popularity contest. This is art.