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LIKE a cross between Sally Bowles, Patti Smith and PJ Harvey,
French-Irish chanteuse
Vampishly clad in black and
scarlet, topped with a tiny net veil (until she teasingly unpins her hair
halfway through the set), she certainly looks the part, and positively oozes
seductive charisma, meanwhile unleashing a vocal performance of sensational
power and brilliant theatricality.
It should be emphasised that this
isn't the light, witty, Champagne-cocktail style of cabaret - more the type you
might find in an absinthe bar. Jacques Brel and
Even greater heights (or depths) of anguish and rage are
reached, if possible, when she lays into the brutal, whore's-eye-view diatribe
of Next, by Virgin Prunes founder Gavin Friday, backed by a slashing, punkish travesty of a military march from her excellent
five-piece band. Less overtly savage, but no less dangerous, is the mounting
venom with which she imbues Cave's The Mercy Seat, or the unstinting bleakness
of Tom Waits's Misery is the River of the World.
There are lighter moments, too - including a superb reprise of
Bette Midler's In These Shoes? - and quieter ones, among them Brel's Chanson des Vieux Amants, delivered with bittersweet starkness over minimal
piano and clarinet accompaniment, and a piercingly desolate arrangement of Dillie Keane's Look Mummy, No Hands. Packing more drama
into an hour than most theatre companies, this is a stunning tour de force from
a performer surely destined to be a major star.
• Until 28 August Today