Wait? Is this sort of thing even allowed in a church? More than that, a cathedral, a big, imposing, check-out-the-stained-glass-windows-on-that monument to man’s desire to build really big buildings for our chosen deities to hang around in. Oh sure, Anna Calvi isn’t the first to enter a church and sing something less heavenly than Ave Maria, but it does feel a bit unexpected to have something so sensual, so suggestive, so earthly bouncing off the walls and echoing around the pews.
I suppose we’re dealing with subversion from the off with Ms Calvi. The astute will note that her flamenco-influenced attire takes its cues from the male costume. It’s possible to miss a detail like that, but Calvi’s music is so often about the details, the little things which add up to one of the most intriguing wholes to emerge in the last year or so. And, of course, a lot of little things adds up to something big, as the huge selection of instruments, percussive devices and general trinkets on the table in front of live band member Mally Harpaz goes to show. It’s more crowded than a Catholic* altar during Christmas communion, but not a instrument goes unused or is superfluous.
It’s one of Calvi’s gifts that everything about her music is very precise, but it all feels so spontaneous. For a shy woman who locked herself away until she worked out how to sing in a way which she felt happy with, she certainly has a stunner of a voice. The songs leap forward, from her, with her bands along for the ride. There’s a slight worry during opener ‘Rider To The Sea’ that the sound setup might not be the best, but as soon as she slides into the silky slope of ‘No More Words’ it all resolves itself instantly. If the instrumental ‘Rider…’ is a hint of the roiling tensions which lie underneath Calvi’s songs then ‘No More Words’ is the decoy, drawing everyone in. Weirdly it feels quiet, feels like we should be leaning further and further in as it progresses, even though it is perfectly well amplified.
The dynamics at work on her album translate perfectly here in the live arena. Though Calvi barely says a word to the audience she still has their complete attention, and directs them through the music. It’s an authoritative performance, especially when she produces her trio of covers – Elvis Presley, Edith Piaf and TV On The Radio might not be the most obvious companions, but it’s quite clear watching that these songs no longer belong to their previous owners, they are now Calvi’s. The latter in particular, a fearsome and feral blast through ‘Wolf Like Me‘, it a real highlight of noise and sexuality. Calvi could probably have anyone from the audience after that.
Not that Calvi needs covers to prove her mettle. The way she teases sounds out of her guitar is something to behold – ‘Love Won’t Be Leaving‘ ends with an epic guitar solo which would make Matt Bellamy sit up and pay attention is both jaw-droppingly impressive for its technical excellence, but also manages that most rare of feats, sounding like it comes from an urgent, important and primal place, rather than from a desire to show off about how many notes per second can be played. It certainly leaves most of the audience looking slightly shell-shocked.
Singles and album tracks alike are greeted with the same rapturous response from the crowd, and it’s really not hard to see why. A lot of the early hype around Calvi came from her live shows, and she’s not slacked off on them at all in the intervening time. The force of songs like ‘Blackout‘ and ‘Suzanne And I‘ would sound enormous in any environment, and Calvi is a captivating presence, even her smallest actions being closely followed by those in attendance. It’s not quite a religious experience, but it’s just unworldly and just earthly enough to make everyone happy.
*Yes yes, I know Manchester Cathedral is a Protestant cathedral. Just trust me on this one, Catholics love trinkets!
