Let it be noted: Mick Turner (guitar) and Jeffrey Wegener (drums) played a fantastic support slot. If you’ve ever thought that Dirty Three are Warren Ellis plus two others, tonight would have left you in no doubt that Turner is at the very least an equal partner in that great band, as well as being a painter of some worth (his art formed part of the backdrop he seemed to be playing along to). Although Turner doesn’t really interact with the audience at all – he’s no frontman – he plays some beautiful and deeply affecting guitar. But hopefully you know that already, because, as brilliant as he is, Turner proves to be only a very small part of the evening.
In the battle of stage lighting versus Cat Power, there’s only going to be one winner. For reasons unknown, just one of the Gov’s two banks of stage lights is working. A high-power spot has been brought in specially, but Chan Marshall is having none of that, thanks very much. And when an acceptably dark gel is found, the spot might as well have been switched off. While her band is lit well enough, Marshall herself is in the dark for all but a few minutes of a set that approaches two hours.
The Gov, with a capacity of 700 or thereabouts, invariably has an intimate feel; yet tonight, for those of us at the front, it’s more like being in a living room with Cat Power than a venue. And that seems to be just how Chan wants it. She makes no great attempt to connect with the audience as a whole; instead, as she shimmies and shuffles and dances from one side of the stage to the other, she apparently wants to connect with each of us as individuals, staring deep into our eyes and occasionally flashing a blinding smile. The first time it happens to me, from just a few feet away, the intensity of it is a little too much, and I turn away, even as I’m wondering if it was actually someone else she was looking at. Talking to others later, it seems that I’m not alone in that reaction. From time to time Marshall has to look away too, and to help her in that various props are scattered around the stage: a glass of wine here, though it’s hardly touched; two cups of tea there; ciggies with her keyboard player, Greg Foreman, or tucked beneath her foldback monitor.
About halfway through the show an audience member further back tries to get something done about the lighting, acknowledging that she’s got a great voice but pointing out that he’d really like to see her too. He wins another of the night’s apologies but nothing changes.
Earlier, the music started with Billie Holiday’s 'Don’t Explain', just the first of many deep and soulful songs. The band are good but not quite brilliant; they’re utterly professional and play well but don’t always present Marshall’s voice to its best effect. Too often it’s fighting for space. In one sense, the set is almost completely shapeless: there’s little of the ebb and flow you normally get with a live performance, and given the range of material that she and the band take on, there’s precious little variety either. But in another sense, the shape is quite clear. Material that was recorded for Jukebox, whether it made the final cut or not, comes first, along with some glances back at The Covers Record. It’s followed by roughly half of The Greatest, and it’s clear from the audience response that the majority here are far more interested in Chan’s songs than her covers. That’s no great surprise. All too often the covers are musically unrecognisable. Her version of Smokey Robinson’s 'Tracks Of My Tears' appears on the printed set lists as 'Life Of The Party', and has been identified elsewhere as a new song by Marshall. These are neither the songs that people know, nor – at least in the eyes of her fans – are they really hers.
There are times when the show feels as if it’s about to degenerate into chaos – an unusual exchange between Marshall and Foreman ends up with someone accidentally setting off a pre-programmed rhythm pattern on his Roland keyboard, going completely against the existing flow, and it takes a roadie to sort it out. But there are other moments when everything works perfectly. Typically these are slow, bluesy numbers that both bring out the best in her voice and encourage the band to lay back, allowing Marshall more space. Her take on 'I’ve Been Loving You', the Otis Redding song, is simply brilliant. It’s also the only time when most of the crowd get a proper look at Marshall. Since it’s the final number she insists that the house lights are brought up, and keeps at it until she’s happy with the results. When the song finishes, she takes the chance to connect with as many more individuals as she can.
Overall, it’s not really a great gig, but it’s certainly an experience to remember. A few years ago, after she gained a reputation for truly unhinged performances, that would have been a criticism; tonight it’s entirely the opposite.
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