|
|
 |
| |
| |
Florence and the Machine on stage at Union Chapel |
Go with the Flo at Chapel
REVIEW: MENCAP LITTLE NOISE SESSIONS
Union Chapel
YOU’VE got to hand it to Johnny Borrell. I know it’s a rarely expressed sentiment but Razorlight’s lead singer, who doesn’t usually get a good press, redeemed himself on Sunday.
Faced with failing equipment when headlining the Mencap Little Noise Sessions, he didn’t throw a diva-strop. Instead, he unplugged everything, sang his heart out, strolled the pews with his acoustic guitar like a travelling bard, and clambered on the speakers to serenade the balcony. The whole event suddenly became a genuine acoustic night. Not so sure his band were as pleased, as they were largely redundant.
Up until that point, it was the support acts that won the biggest cheers.
The magnificent Florence and the Machine’s blues/soul/folk-filled lungs called out to the rafters with her dark tales of “The Girl with One Eye” and “Bird Song”. Red-haired Florence, sparkling with glitter, was enchanting, spooky, mysterious, and unique.
Esser was something special. The former drummer of Ladyfuzz was accompanied by mariachi-style trumpets, manic percussionists and circus-type pianos, while he himself remained understated. He ended with new single, the stunning “Satisfied”.
The night began with the most appropriately named band of the year, Skint and Demoralised. Frontman Matt Abbott leaps between spoken word and song, mixing intellectual political thought, Arctic Monkeys-style daily observations, and the wholly innocent lyrics of a teenage pop band. And it works.
The Sessions opened on Saturday with a huge surprise. The Killers – days after playing to huge numbers at the Albert Hall – played to their tiniest UK audience yet of just 600 people. Their three-song set was short and sweet, with “Human”, “Smile Like You Mean It” and “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun”. Incredible to see them in such an intimate setting.
They were followed by the manic Cage the Elephant. Frontman Matt Shultz’s shuddering/shaking dancing makes him appear as if he’s just been filled with the Holy Spirit and is about to burst into tongues. A wild, peculiar choice, which shook the crowd up in a good way.
They were followed by one third of White Lies (basically vocalist Harry McVeigh), whose clear, keyboard-driven 80s style came out like crystal in the chapel.
Headliners Glasvegas couldn’t have been a more perfect fit. James Allan’s laments seemed all the more real in the candlelit chapel, while cousin Rab’s backing vocals and Caroline McKay’s sombre drums enveloped the room.
•
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
