| Beth Orton cusses with a frequency
and gusto which would impress the roughest navvy. Her first three spoken
words tonight are 'f*ck,' 'f*ck' and 'f*ck', which are rushed out in one
giddy giggle acknowledging the impressive grandeur of the Royal Albert
Hall. She thus punctures the inflated sense of occasion generated by the
venue and probably shocks the socks off her more genteel fans.
Orton has come a long way since
she first made her name working with William Orbit and Red Snapper and
became a familiar figure in London's hipper clubbing circles. Her setting
of sweetly melancholic, neo-folk melodies to cool, down-tempo beats had
her famously dubbed 'the comedown queen' when her debut LP surfaced in
1996, as she made what was perceived as the perfect music for twitchy
clubbers needing to calm down as the sun came up. She proved that The Song
is at home anywhere, not just alone on a stool with an acoustic guitar.
Tonight, Orton makes her entrance
with a gasp and some swearing, mutters something about not having any
drugs and then launches solo into the urban'n'western 'Heartland Truck
Stop', her voice so galloping and breathless it's apparent that nerves are
getting the better of her. It's still a problem on 'Paris Train', where
she's joined by her band - which includes long-termers guitarist Ted
Barnes and double bassist Ali Friend of Red Snapper - and an eight-piece
string section she introduces as The Wrecking Crew.
The orchestral fulsomeness suits
much of Orton's material, most notably a sublime 'Mount Washington', where
her charcoal-soft tones are set against a tsunami-strength crescendo.
Sometimes, though, you almost wish she'd sack the strings and get back to
her strikingly effective basics. The gorgeous, light-footed 'Ted's Waltz'
is happily left to Orton - whose voice has now settled down - Barnes and
Friend, plus one violin and cello, while on 'Thinking About Tomorrow' her
lowering melancholy is given vital space to resonate.
In a set drawing from all three
albums, there are so many jokey asides from Orton - about her
uncomfortably high heels, about Barnes' broken foot and her knickers - you
almost expect her to introduce a juggler. But if Orton's chatter sometimes
palls, it's an altogether warmer and more personally appropriate
communication than say, lecturing a crowd about fair trade. There's always
been something of the goofy charmer about Beth Orton; it's touching that
not even The Royal Albert Hall can knock that out of her. |
