Cat Power, Hammersmith Apollo, June 8th
Cat Power was disappointing at the Apollo
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Monday, 16, Jun 2008 03:31
The smoky, heartfelt vocals of Chan Marshall - aka Cat Power - have long been held as one of the wonders of the music world and with her lachrymose version of Sea of Love managing to outshine the rest of the undeniably stellar Juno soundtrack; it's not hard to see why the Hammersmith Apollo is close to heaving for her June show.
Unfortunately, the majority of the crowd leave underwhelmed after a performance that smacks of a half-hearted soundcheck rather than an artist who seemed at the top of her game when eighth album Jukebox hit the shelves.
Her band stroll casually on with the lights still up, momentarily disarming the audience, before they provide an adoring reception for Chan when she strolls on, equally nonchalantly. She's initially engaging, despite her relaxed ambling around the stage, and the early country feel gives the impression of Norah Jones meets Ryan Adams without a hint of the contrivance of the former.
But on the Skynyrd-esque fourth, it becomes clear that Chan's diction is an issue, with the microphone held so close to her face and her voice so deep that making out a lyric is nigh-on impossible until her melancholy version of Blue Moon, to which, let's be honest, everyone knows the words anyway.
The stage is bathed in red light to complement her ageless voice but the lack of a spotlight reinforces the minimal, background music feel of the show and even with her Dylanesque tripping over lines and the sultry spell of her rendition New York, New York from recent album Jukebox, you can't escape the sense that it feels like the gig still hasn't started.
Yes, there are echoes of Patti Smith and Polly Harvey in her style, and the theatrical edge to her stage movements at least veers between captivating and irritating, rather than just being the latter. And as Sea of Love - which she doesn't play - proved, Chan's at her strongest when warbling over an insistent piano. But the bluesy efforts tend to drift into anonymity and checking your watch at a gig is never a good sign.
We finally get lighting on a bewitching version of Creedence Clearwater Revival's Fortunate Son, with the bayou vibe retained and meshed with a voodoo twist, while the beauty and delicacy of Where Is My Love is such that you wish the entire gig had been so affecting.
At one point, she wanders through the audience self-indulgently and while sitting so close to one so talented should be exhilarating, it's incredibly awkward, especially as one confused girl shuffles past Chan laden with pints.
The muffled vocals continue to grate, you find yourself wanting to scream "Enunciate!" before she strides off for what seems the umpteenth time as her band embark on a stultifying, dull droan of noise, reminiscent of a Sonic Youth tune-up, only more soul-destroying.
Then after five long minutes, she returns and you realise ' Oh, that was the end of the gig'. Which makes this an encore, which no-one had clapped for. Way to interact with the audience, Chan.
A drink problem's been blamed for the unpolished nature of her old shows, and while it's commendable that her newfound sobriety has provided an apparent greater enthusiasm for performing, it's hard to imagine anyone who could provide a more dispassionate performance than this.
Lewis Bazley