sun 20/07/2025

New Music Reviews

Ana Silvera, Imogen Heap, Estonian Television Girls Choir, Holst Singers, Reverb 2012

Igor Toronyi-Lalic

Freud would have loved the final night of Reverb 2012's opening weekend. First came a screening of a mad early Surrealist film from Germaine Dulac and Antonin Artaud, in which a priest chases a woman's breasts that have turned into two seashells.

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Kathleen Edwards, Oran Mor, Glasgow

Lisa-Marie Ferla

Accompanying herself with the violin she hung from the mic stand, the Canadian songwriter Kathleen Edwards performed “Goodnight, California” - the last track from her 2008 album Asking For Flowers - in the sensual rasp of the late night gin-drunk. The song is a sprawling, beautifully-realised portrait of loneliness, and the tightness of Edwards’ backing band only increased its eerie claustrophobia.

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Gerry Rafferty: Right Down the Line, BBC Four

Kieron Tyler

“Baker Street” and “Stuck in the Middle With You” will live forever. Once heard, each is never forgotten. Both are perfect. Both were written and sung by Gerry Rafferty, the subject of Right Down the Line, an affectionate David Tennant-narrated tribute to this stubborn Scotsman, who died in January last year. The story was told with warmth and his songwriting celebrated, but evidence for Rafferty’s troubled nature was never far.

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Kaiser Chiefs, Hammersmith Apollo

Bruce Dessau

The first time I ever saw Kaiser Chiefs was on Saturday morning children's television. While the musicians performed onstage, vocalist Ricky Wilson went walkabout, continuing to belt out "I Predict a Riot" while lurking out of view. Halfway through last night's gig I thought he was about to pull the same stunt when he bolted off shortly after a blinding live rendition of "...Riot". I was sitting in the front row of the balcony at the time.

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Oh Land, Heaven

Kieron Tyler

Oh Land is Nanna Øland Fabricius. A proper pop star in her native Denmark, based on last night's show there’s no reason why she can’t be one here too. She’s been living in Brooklyn and the international market is clearly in her sights. The highlights from her packed gig at Heaven - "Sun of a Gun", "Wolf & I", "White Nights" and "We Turn it Up” - are sweet confections that ought to prove irresistible. Providing, that is, they’re served up correctly. But more on that later.

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Rebecca Ferguson, Clyde Auditorium, Glasgow

Lisa-Marie Ferla

Ever since that first Saturday night when Simon Cowell pulled back the curtain on mainstream pop music's most underhand dealings, there has been a certain type of artiste that a certain type of person struggles to take seriously.

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Ren Harvieu, Lexington Arms

Andrew Perry

Five minutes before stage time at the Lexington, the latest retro-soul diva from the mighty Universal conglomerate hovered outside the ladies’ toilet downstairs, holding a crutch and looking decidedly nervous. Ren Harvieu was one of the nominees in the BBC’s Sound of 2012, and has been groomed for the past two years in the same Kid Gloves stable, which churned out Duffy and Amy Winehouse.

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Justice, Brixton Academy

joe Muggs

Justice – pronounce it “Joosteece”, for they are as French as they come – deconstruct the opposition between style and substance. Everything about them is preposterous, from the hipster facial hair via the rock-pig antics in their A Cross The Universe tour “documentary” DVD to the way that almost the entirety of their musical palette is cribbed from their countrymen and close associates Daft Punk.

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Barry Adamson, Queen Elizabeth Hall

Bruce Dessau

Immediately before Barry Adamson started his performance, the audience at the Queen Elizabeth Hall was treated to a few fragrant verses about arts cinemas and the homeless from Yorkshire poet Geoffrey Allerton. The keen-eyed soon twigged that Allerton was actually a fictional construct, part-Simon Armitage, part-Freddie Trueman, created by comedian Simon Day. A beautifully idiosyncratic prelude to a pretty idiosyncratic headline set.

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Naturally 7, Barbican

peter Quinn

Naturally 7 represent the point where close-harmony singing, beatboxing and spookily accurate instrumental imitation meet. The US septet call it "vocal play" - the voice as instrument - and last night they sent dopamine levels soaring in the Barbican. The group conveys the beat-driven swagger of hip hop, the freewheeling improv of jazz and the trenchant emotion of soul, often within the confines of a single song.

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