Nina Nastasia @ St John's Church
By Danny Robinson
"It's always fun to play in a church... more fun than going to church anyway!"
It's quite a frustrating layout here at St. John's. A privileged few sit practically on the stage. Blessed with omnipresence. They hear all. They see all. The rest of us however, are segregated, in our rickety pews, by the hideously archaic rood screen, which will stubbornly resolve to obscure the view for the entire night. I come to realise that this is the nature of religion... to blind us from the truth. People who believe are not afforded the pleasure of knowing that God exists. Blind faith.
Fortunately, this isn't the case with music. We can see, we can hear, we can feel.
First up is David Thomas Broughton. Kind of a medieval troubadour who just happened to stumble upon the idea of sampling, after one hard day's lute strumming in the courtyard. Taking as much from medieval plainchant as he does traditional, (and not so traditional), folk music, it is perhaps the perfect setting for his hauntingly beautiful brand of artificial vocal polyphony. At times, heart-rending and funny, he is like some Bonny Prince, Friar Tuck and he is marvellous.
Great Bear, the only act tonight to feature a drummer, are the kind of band that while impressive to behold, produce a noise capable of check-mating Kasparov; of converting Nietzche; of understanding women, even!!! This is a sound with its own IQ, and it's higher than yours, whatever YOURS is. Its like the inbetween bits on Godspeed! You Black Emporer records, complete with double bass jazz licks and over-emphatic vocals. They would sit very comfortably on the Constellation roster. I did enjoy these guys... they just made my head hurt a bit.
When Nina Nastasia takes to the stage, all cutesy-pie in pigtails and little black hat, everyone is instantly transfixed. She has one of those perfect voices that could melt the coldest of hearts, exuding an authenticity that no preacher man could ever dream of. "You're all very well-behaved... sitting in your pews," she observes. It isn't surprising. Nobody wants to miss a note. When a phone goes off, within minutes of the first song, a horrified gasp ripples through the audience, like a wave...
...Part country songsmithery, part gothic opera, her songs always make me think of the sea for some reason... the high drama, the serenity, the loneliness... the uncertainty of it all. Being stuck in the middle of the ocean, and not being able to see beyond the horizon. Not knowing where you're going, but you keep going anyway.
Blind faith perhaps...
Even after a two song encore, it's all over by 10:15... damn Sunday gigs!!! Winter seems to have dawned, since I stepped through the door, three hours ago... I manage to make it home safely (pretty much...). I just hope the guy with the phone did.
