With some deservedly impressive reviews rolling in
for her latest album, In The Seams, there’s a better turn out for tonight’s gig
at the Hairy Hounds than there was back in 2012 when Saint Saviour last played here. At
that time she was seriously considering packing touring in altogether as, in
common with a sadly growing number of artists, she was pretty much doing
everything herself which is undoubtedly (a) pretty ruddy time consuming and (b)
soul destroying if the turnout’s a little, ahem, slim.
First up though someone else who seems to have been
through the musical wringer a bit over the years, Bill Ryder-Jones, former
guitarist of The Coral who stopped touring with them for a while citing a “stress
related illness” (nasty) before quitting the band for good. I’ve always been
stuffed full of admiration for anyone who can get up on stage and do their
thing but getting back on the road after going through that must surely take
balls the size of Saturn.
Musically both Bill and Becky (aka Saint Saviour)
are coming from a similar place right now, intimate, low key and deeply
personal. Ryder-Jones (who also produced Becky’s latest album), wrapped up in a
hoody and scarf and audibly carrying the remains of a cold with him, this
evening played a selection of self penned tracks ranging from Hanging Boy, which
has just the merest echo of his twang-tastic days with The Coral through to the
more Sweet Babboo-ish There’s a Wall Between Us and on to The Lemon Trees which,
despite the cold, nudged him more towards crooner territory (it doesn’t take a
huge leap of imagination to see him morphing into an edgier, more urban Richard
Hawley).
As he warms up, metaphorically and literally, the scarf and hoody come
off and newer songs lift the pace with Catherine (Bill’s love letter to the
streets of Liverpool) in particular showcasing his, up until that point,
understated guitar skills a little more.
Time for Saint Saviour then. As already mentioned
(hey, if a thing’s worth saying once it’s worth saying a dozen times) In The
Seams is clearly a tremendously personal album, much of which seems to be
looking back wistfully at her childhood/early adult years and whilst she’s
perfectly capable of belting out a tune, as she’s more than proved in the past,
much of tonight’s set is delivered in more of a whisper than a scream which,
moth to a flame-like, irresistibly draws you in. Opening number this evening, I
Remember, is a particularly fragile creature and quite frankly it couldn’t have
been more intimate if she’d crept into bed with you and sang gently into your
ear in the wee small hours. Pausing between tracks to paint a little picture
about each one (not literally, although how cool would that be...we could get
Rolf Harris in...what’s that? Oh...good point...) she waxes lyrical on the
rugged beauty of Craster in her native Northumberland and reminisces about her
schoolgirl crushes and desire to “rescue” the mournful looking indie boys that
stared out at her every week from the pages of NME and Melody Maker. I was
always more of a Marc Almond kind of boy. With a couple of female backing
vocalists and some pre-recorded strings (I imagine that the budget doesn’t stretch
to lugging an orchestra around with you sadly), along with Ryder-Jones on
guitar (he also adds an almost skeletal vocal to some tracks) it’s an often
haunting and mournful sound and you’re driven by an almost overwhelming desire to
just climb up on stage and give her a big old hug, especially after Nobody Died
(imagine Kate Bush meeting Karen Carpenter on a windswept Northumbrian beach in
winter), Becky’s attempt at giving herself a “kick up the arse” when she’s
feeling particularly low which, given the tone of many of these songs, is a
hell of a lot of the time.
There’s optimism buried in there though, perhaps
most notably on Let It Go, tonight’s soar away highlight (despite the best
efforts of a trio of individuals at the front who chatted through it...either
respect the artists performing or stay at home watching X Factor, okay?).
With
echoes of Anthony and the Johnsons’ majestic Hope There’s Someone and
Shakespeare’s Sister’s Stay With Me it’s arguably one of the best things she’s
ever done and, in a fairer world, she’d be singing it to thousands of gently
swaying pilgrims in the Albert Hall. Ending with an old song, Reasons, she finally
unleashes the full extraordinary power of that voice and then she’s gone,
ghost-like into the night (oh, alright then...she came back and signed albums
and chatted to fans and stuff but that doesn’t sound so dramatic does it eh?).
Saint Saviour, a truly special talent. Go see her.
You’ll feel blessed.
PS: Driving home after the gig there was a Nick
Drake CD playing in the car, another artist who sadly received far too little
acclaim at the time but who has now almost been raised to the level of a saint.
It may be a clumsy parallel to draw but it’s easy to see Saint Saviour being
similarly revered in 40 years time too. Let’s hope it’s not that long eh?
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