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Tilly and the Wall, Florence and the Machine and now Marina and the Diamonds. Seems like every aspiring, alternative female singer-songwriter needs a band named after an inanimate object or two to back up their slightly quaint christian name these days. Unlike Til and Flo though, Marina appears to care far less - she plays gigs only every so often, aims to get trolleyed each time and is in entirely no hurry to sign on a record company's dotted line (despite much clamour).
Her most recent choice of venue further expresses her vaguely nihilistic nature: it's the lesbian-friendly Girlcore night upstairs in a rammed Crash, becrowded with ill-ironed lumberjack shirts, anorexic jeans and a flock of flowery blouses. And that was just the boys. Inelegantly bumping around with a record bag, Gigwise is jostled, jabbed and jolted by constantly-passing pretty young things - the reason being that the space between the stage and bar, as well as being an impromptu dress circle, doubles as the sole toilet throughfare.
Gigwise's regular grunts and groans are strangely suitable, however: Marina, no traditional chanteuse, utilises all kinds of odd and earthy noises herself. Supplemented by her gay (as in cheery, not Girlcore) and tinkling keyboard, she chants, cackles, oohs, aahs, stammers and sings in varying volumes voices and styles. Her songs, largely autobiographical as best as Gigwise can deduce, introduce a range of characters and moods from a colourful life, hence the need for such sonic schizophrenia.
While we're disrespectfully using mental illnesses as metaphors, there's something vaguely epilectic about 'Hermit the Frog', Marina's second, and most rousing number. Starting with that bouncing keyboard and flying along frenetically while telling of a teenage trauma and cheating, it has Marina's permanent public (about 75 in total) quickly boogeying, a variety of running-on-the-spot style manoeuvres and more restrained waist-waddling. Pints spill on plimpsols all around and even Marina's glum band - a drummer and a guitarist - dredge up the makings of a grin.
It's hot in here and such physical fanfare has left a hint of perspiration in the air - a common, and much-loved Shoreditch sensation. No need for deoderants just yet though as the next tune is 'We've Got Obsessions', a slower, sprawling tale of morning-after bathos, the bevy of crackers brands and another struggling romance. The keyboard is quieter here and Marina's sound heartier. In truth it's a delicious daydream of a song, one which tempts you into the ever-silly act of rotating a lighter in the air.
Narrowly surviving the cheesy inclination, Gigwise instead observes the seductive quality of Marina's voice. Sometimes obscured by all the giddy keys and quickfire delivery she specialises in, it stands alone frequently in 'Obsessions', and praise the lord: this is a sultry, rich and marvellousy tuneful timbre. Behind the kooky t-shirts and devil-may-care, Marina's clearly a natural, almost to her own embarrassment: Gigwise bets she was the girl with the best voice at school who nevertheless shunned the choir and maddened the music teacher by focusing on lads and lager rather than Rachmaniov or reading music.
Gigwise's ridiculous theory is rudely interrupted by 'Are You Satisified?', a quite unusual effort punctuated by fractured, echoe-y vocals ("sa-a-a-tis-fied"), sudden shifts in volume and a previously unheard brassy sample. Satisfied herself by the reception, Marina surprisingly announces that her fifth song is also her final one, a reason for rage even with the free entry. The closer in question is 'Girls, Girls, Girls', suitably rousing for a set-ender and musical manna from heaven for the two guys giddily japing around in front of their entertainer.
It's only during an impromptu encore reprisal of 'Hermit the Frog' (chosen after a public vote) that Gigwise finally encroaches near enough to spy Marina. Hunched over her electric piano, pretty and clad in a dark strapless gown, she is elegance incarnate save for a broad, addled grin as her two chief admirers do their gyratory worst. Too quickly the final note sounds and Catch - Marina's audience having swelled with many persuaded pissers - erupts in delighted gratitude. Girls kiss, boys cuddle and a gleeful Gigwise heads out for a fag.
