Don’t get us wrong – tonight is all about The National. Another unfolding instalment in their gradual conquest against all that is unfeeling and just too obvious, another stepping stone in stature (this is the first of 2 nights at the grand 2000 capacity Empire) and yet another evolution in the reach of their performance since their last visit. With scores of motorway and air-miles under their belts since May they’re finally capable of nailing the album ‘Boxer’s intricate details with confidence, particularly its dulcet-fanfare nadir ‘Fake Empire’. They firm up the driving, serious ‘Mistaken For Strangers’, tease the lonely ‘Racing Like A Pro’ into something stark, jazzy and unusually seductive, and as ever find yet more ways to spin their now traditional set-closer ‘About Today’ into new realms of climactic droning wonder. And yet they still seem to remain unaware of just how great they can be and often are.  But tonight is certainly not only about The National. For a captivating 40 minutes earlier in the evening, when St Vincent (aka prodigious Oklahoman chanteuse Annie Clark) takes to the stage in support, it’s really about nobody other than her. She would have been a worthy headliner stood there, boldly alone, saturated in blue spotlights, reinterpreting her adventurous debut album ‘Marry Me’ – recorded with a band but churned out here via the guitar around her neck, a not overused array of effects and that impressively versatile, indelibly timeless voice of hers. Either the stage floor is miced-up or she’s got size 12s strapped on and calves the size of Argentina, for as she plays an incredibly cranked-up version of The Beatles’ ‘Dig A Pony’ mid way through her set, floating harmonies, raw guitar gushes in filthy waves and an army of thumping beats marching from her feet, the venue practically quakes. She is Jack and Meg in one slight beret-sporting frame. It’s like Joni (Mitchell) and Jimi (Hendrix) duetting, divided by two, with a little of the excess poured back in for good measure. She sings at points through a vintage-style microphone that makes her voice sweep through the venue magnificently, like the ghost of hippie past, like audible crystal. But it’s certainly not only a cover that she makes an impression with. ‘Jesus Saves, I Spend’ is a dizzying mesh of entwined live guitar loops, ‘Marry Me’ a tender treatment of her six strings with accompanying crisp vocals and the closing ‘Now Now’ a bold delivery of sequenced beats, arpeggio guitar and muted chord crashes. As we made our way to the venue tonight we happened across TV poppet Leona Lewis’ shrill warbling flipping the switch on Oxford Street’s Christmas lights. It’s comforting then to find ourselves so soon after in the company of a true diva; earthy, passionate, talented, divine and most importantly distinctive. Balance is well and truly restored. Relevant sites:
www.myspace.com/stvincent
www.americanmary.com/music/
James Berry for Crud Magazine 2007© |
