Laura Marling + Melodica, Melody & Me @ St Paul’s Church, Birmingham – 12th June 2008
With much eager anticipation did I trot along to see Ms Marling play a somewhat bizarre choice of venue — St Paul’s Church in Birmingham — just one of a number of churches on this particular ‘themed’ tour. The decision to play churches struck me as a bold choice — how many of her fans were religious? How many felt comfortable in a church? How many had ever even visited a church before? I found myself full of other questions too — would she censor herself? Where would we be seated – in the aisles, or stood awkwardly in the gangways trying not to touch anything? Would there be a bar, and if so would it be licensed? If holy wine is acceptable on Sundays, then would Stella Artois be acceptable on other days? These are all things I normally take for granted when I go to a gig, but for some reason it was these that dominated my pre-gig thoughts rather than any ponderings over what her setlist or performance might be like.
Inside, St Paul’s was a small yet delightful space. It is still a fully operational church, as opposed to other converted spaces now posing as live music venues and arts centres. As such, the pews had kneelers and there were knitted dollies and other children toys littering the balcony seats. There was a definite air of trepidation upon entering the building — not only felt by me, but clearly demonstrated through the hushed yet hurried shuffling of people trying to decide where best to place themselves for the duration of the show, with no clear indication of anywhere being out-of-bounds or otherwise. I found myself questioning whether I should be able to move the kneelers or not. Was I even allowed to sit upstairs? Simultaneously I was filled with awe that churches have allowed this tour to take place, and not only that – but embraced it!
Support took the shape of Melody, Melodica & Me — although I feel unable to do them justice with any kind of a review. The young 5-piece sounded reasonably melancholy and pleasant, yet the acoustics in the church were so muted by the time they reached my seat upstairs in the balcony area that I was unsure what they were singing about or even how I felt about what muddy sound I could make out. The crowd were delightfully attentive and quiet — so much so that I found myself irritated by the normally indiscernible key-click of someone nearby texting. This made me think that they would have been better off playing acoustic without relying on the limited sound system available to them, however they seemed to do the best with what they had before them.
Laura Marling‘s sound was fortunately somewhat clearer and more defined than her support. She began her set with Shine, alone, and at first appeared doleful and introspective – yet once a string bent out of tune she bashfully apologised, and immediately it felt as though the mood of the room lightened. Confidently, she moved on to new material straight after her apologies — a song containing the line “..and my feet, resolute, brought me back to this place..” which then comfortably lead on to Ghosts in which the rest of her band joined her on stage.
Marling’s performance throughout the gig was very much that of a woman possessed. During songs her demeanour would droop, and her troubled gaze, unfocused, would be drawn off into the indistinguishable distance. Between songs we saw a different woman, a girl perhaps. Someone whose heart was light, and who was amused by simple things like an inability to turn off the lights for fear of causing tripping hazards. Another new song was next which may or may not have been called ‘you never did learn’ after which Marling thanked Ted for magically fixing her accordion and then apologised to the crowd for regaling such a dull story! Nobody could possibly claim to have been bored however, as her performance so far had enchanted the crowd, and all eyes remained fixed on her wry smile.
My Manic and I, and Old Stone followed on in stark contrast to her chirping stories, made more melancholy by the venue and acoustics within. At this point, Marling informed us she has an obsession with death and as a result had become morbidly fascinated by the fact that the church itself stood atop 25,000 bodies! (this fact remains unconfirmed!) Another two new tracks followed this brief dialogue, with Marling performing solo. She was then rejoined by the band for Night Terror, although disappointingly her vocals and the violin were drowned out by the power of the other instruments thanks to the difficult acoustics in the venue. You’re No God followed with Marling and band rocking out, and then Marling gave her now-familiar ‘I don’t believe in encores as it makes everyone grumpy and uncomfortable and it’s all fake anyway, so we’ll just play our extra song straight away and be done with it!’-spiel, except she then reassured us that the next song was not the fake-encore encore song. An energetic rendition of Cross Your Fingers lead straight into Crawled Out of the Sea (which sounded strangely awry without the trumpet accompaniment as found on the recorded version) which eventually lead on to her faux-encore finale of Alas I Cannot Swim. Marling stood alone, away from the microphone singing acapella in a mournful desolate manner until halfway through when the band rejoined her on stage to have a rousing full-on hootenanny showdown!
The questions which had felt so pressing and curious before I entered the building had all melted away by the time I left. St Paul’s could be a delightful venue — particularly for the blossoming nu-folk sound of Marling and others like her, if only the acoustics and/or sound system were improved. Who really cares if there’s a bar, as long as the performance is as entertaining and delicious as Laura Marling gave tonight?
Review – Red Annie
Photos – Lee Allen