PJ Harvey and John Parish, Queen's Hall

Published on Monday 27 April 2009 09:28

PJ Harvey and John Parish, Queen's Hall DEFINING Polly Jane Harvey's music is always going to be problematic. Eclectic, enigmatic and essential, it transcends genre and defies trend.

But if you were looking to get to the root of what makes this prolific musician tick, last night's soul-searching, heart-wrenching performance alongside John Parish would have given you some clues.

Critics have championed Harvey and Parish's second collaboration, A woman and a Man Walked By, as an impressive sequel.

A Pandora's Box of musical styles and narrative, the album juxtaposes blues, rock and country with a host of splintered, schizophrenic voices.

And it is only in live performance that the real nature of these multiple personalities can be grasped.

From the embittered, jealous lover of Sixteen, Fifteen, Fourteen, through the gentle lament of California and ending in the barking, venomous, vengeance of Pig, Harvey's creations each jostled for their position on stage and for the empathy of the audience.

Each distinct and utterly convincing, these ephemeral spirits made a relentless and captivating line-up and the energy and urgency of Harvey's performance really brought the songs and their narrators to life.

Harvey's creations shared the stage with the uber sharply-suited foursome of John Parish and his band, who did their own impressive turn in eclectic musicianship.

Every kind of guitar you could imagine, as well as a banjo, ukulele and what looked like a melodic smoking device, was wheeled out to mix an intoxicating cocktail of music.

Equally intoxicating was the Queen's Hall venue itself. Packed out and heavy with an expectant atmosphere, the cabaret tables and church pews were closely spaced and gently lit by candles, creating an exclusive, intimate-feeling gig.

On stage, the chameleon-like backdrop was lit to shift with the mood of the performance, moving between the burnt orange warmth of California to a seething, emerald-green for envy. When the audience remembered to look beyond the characters in her songs, PJ Harvey herself was an absorbing onstage presence.

Whether completely still, spinning unnaturally on the spot like a wind-up doll, or turning her back on them, she was always stunningly note-perfect and utterly enchanting.

Clearly enjoying herself, Polly even leapt off the stage to dance frenetically around the front row, but was left disappointed when nobody got up out of their seats to join her.

But you couldn't really blame the audience who were mostly rooted to their pews in rapt attention. Only when Harvey and Parish dared to finish the performance prematurely did they get out of their seats and demand an encore. Finishing up two songs later with April, Harvey and co were showered with a standing ovation that seemed like it could have gone on until May.

It was a fitting and genuinely heartfelt end for the unique musical sensibility that only Polly Jane Harvey can conjure.