The Jeremy Warmsley gig was a pleasantly cohesive night out. Starting with the newly refurbished New Hero night club (previously renown for being an ironic eighties sauna) which now also makes an apt setting for intimate live gigs. The recently unregulated sound system was lazily spilling out the latest Wild Beasts album whilst ticket holders sauntered in, lining the walls and carefully taking their places at the edge of the arc of light illuminating the stage.
At nine thirty The Wellingtons emerged from the floor and took their place on stage. Two girls, one cello and a handful of small 'percussive devices' have never been so spellbinding. The focus is on their vocal harmonies but the magic is in the inventiveness with which they employ their instruments. The cello is at times played or beaten with the bow and also plucked in a number of different fashions to provide interesting distinction between songs. A tambourine is scratched, bare feet stamped and even a stapler is used to create a beat. The girls' voices float like courting butterflies on the breeze flitting dreamily between call and response, contrapuntal melodies and rounds. It's a beautiful experience and engaging too as their set seems to be over far too quickly. The Wellingtons make you feel like you're in a sassy nineteen-twenties club succumbing to one too many whiskies and slipping into disturbing visions of beautiful but dangerous fairy-tale folk. If you heard their sirens' call on a dark night you'd willingly dash your ship on their rocks.
At ten Jeremy Warmsley takes to the stage and, after some endearingly unprepared chatter advocating the floor as seating, leads into a cover of Billy Holiday. As a solo artist he is typically introverted, singing songs about love, heartbreak, dreams, death and hopelessness. What sets him apart is his expansion on the often formulaic 'these songs are merely a vessel for my lyrics' writing style. His voice soars, emulating the emotion of the words, sweeping through bitterness, depression, angst and occasionally hope. His guitar adds a real feature to the tracks rather than feeling like a generic chord sequence, backing track or an object to hide behind. As an apology for forgetting his set list he offers the audience a chance to suggest an artist for him to cover. Batting off deliberately ridiculous requests he settles on a more sensible call for Daniel Johnston. If the evening wasn't already intimate enough he makes the most of the cosy venue and respectful hush (the bar staff wouldn't even open the till during his set for fear of disturbing the atmosphere) to step away from the microphone, perch on the edge of the stage and play a couple of acoustic numbers. He performs a track by his new band Acres Acres who theme their tracks on "times when life gets so bad you think you might die, but then you don't!". The evening is concluded by his second piano ballad called 'Craneflies' and as with his guitar backed songs the notation is thrilling. His fingers dance and scramble over the keys like the limbs of the insect this song is named after. When it's time for the audience to get up, stretch their legs and dreamily drift out of the building thoughts of bed prevail and only partially because curfew swept by without anyone noticing.
Jeremy Warmsley - I Promise
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