So I thought I'd give a review of the Imogen Heap concert I was at last night. I walked into the Arts Centre about 15 minutes before it started, having been at the Terrace Bar drinking Jagermeister with ice, not really getting into the alcohol thing as I'd been drinking champagne all day, and I was a little dizzy from the cigars. Glad to have gotten a seated ticket, I wandered around outside Butterworth Hall for a while, drinking Smirnoff Ice from a bar upstairs I didn't even know existed, so it was kind of a pain that I chose to drink at the more expensive Terrace Bar beforehand. After a while I walked into, or attempted to walk into the concert hall, where I was asked to pour my bottled drink into a plastic cup for fears that I might glass Imogen Heap. Obviously I would never do that but, fair enough, I see their point, if anyone can throw glass that accurately so far away from the stage. The hall was relatively empty, or rather, disproportionately dispersed with people. The balconies were full, and I saw Seaseme Street characters, including Big Bird, on the balcony across from us. I was sat next to this old couple who didn't look like the alternative indie type, I think they, and quite a few others came along just for a night out. Some people didn't have a clue who she was, not being able to sing along with her most famous songs. I overheard one guy say 'I didn't expect her to be this good..'.
Anyway, let's move on. The house lights went out and an ethereal purple aura enveloped the stage, lighting up a 3-Dimensional paper tree, which was the centrepiece. The stage was covered with bizarre instruments; a birdcage, a large thin sheet of aluminium and wine glasses with lemons next to them. What struck me immediately was that Imogen Heap wandered onto the stage straight away, on time, wearing jeans and a t-shirt and just started talking. I definitely recognised her, but I could tell some people thought she was just the sound-check woman or someone who was just introducing the first support band, but no, it was Imogen. So, she introduced the first supporting act, a band called Geese who don't even have a CD out yet, though they were selling their EP in the lobby which I was compelled to buy after hearing them. They took to the stage with a drumset and two violins, and poured out a sound of what I can only describe as a more compelling, more engaging and even more bizarre version of Godspeed You Black Emporer. They did things with violins I wasn't even aware were possible, breaking all the rules you learn in music lessons, especially with this instrument. The violence was in their music and was billowing all around the concert hall. They teased the audience with soulful melodies that sounded a bit like a depressed Vivaldi before the drums came in, bringing the roof down and smashing the land-speed record for pizzicato. And so they played three songs, entirely instrumental, and left the stage, making a huge impression on me.
Imogen returned to the stage once again to introduce her second act, Ben Christophers, a singer-songwriter from Wolverhampton who reminded me of a more soulful Thom Yorke, not to disparage Thom Yorke, I just thought this guy sounded a little less melancholic. However, there was something about his performance that had resonance of the main 'guy' character from the movie 'Once'. As I sat there listening to him I had this impression that he'd been sat in his bedroom for days on end, channelling everything that had gone wrong in his life into his music and then being brave, or perhaps foolish enough to take it to the stage. After his first song Imogen made a quick interruption and told everyone on the balcony to come and stand by the stage. Not everyone did it, but I certainly did. I walked outside, ordered a pint of Carling from the bar and walked downstairs, through the double doors in the atrium of Butterworth Hall and around the corners onto the stage floor. You could hear Christopher's music reverberating through the brickwork, and there was something about it that I didn't want to miss, so I ran quickly inside. He played a few songs, with his guitar terribly out of tune for one of them; an error which he quickly fixed and then decided to play a different track, a track I would argue, was better than what I got from his flawed one. It had the markings of an upbeat Joshua Radin song, which led me to think that if he's touring with Imogen Heap, he perhaps knows Radin as they're an associated act. Maybe they live lives experiencing similar things. Maybe there's something about life in that whole genre that creates this kind of music.
Christophers finished his set and the house lights went up again for a 20 minute interval. During that twenty minutes I wandered outside for a cigarette in the cold, not being sure whether I was breathing out smoke or whether it was so cold I could see my breath in the air. I stood there thinking about Geese, the first support act, and the fact that they didn't have an album out. At this point I decided to go in and buy their EP, just in case they never make it into the indie mainstream, just in case I'd never hear them again. I just didn't want to lose those amazing violin stunts and the effervescent drumming. Walking upstairs to the bar again, I sat down with a bottle of Beck's on some bizarre art-deco furniture; essentially weird cushioned blocks coated in yellow and green fabric. It was then I noticed that Geese were standing a few feet away from me, and it struck me, despite already knowing this, that musicians are just ordinary people with extraordinary creativity. I suppose I'm on the lyrical side of their fence. Anyway, as Imogen was about to come on I quickly ordered another pint from the bar and ran downstairs, spilling about an inch of the drink in the rush. Just as I was walking in, the house lights faded to black once again, and a Halloween-themed cackle resonated through the speakers.
Imogen returned to the stage, this time dressed as a witch, with chaotic hair, a pointy hat and carrying, for some reason, a robot-pumpkin. I don't know what it is with indie fans and robots but there's definitely some correlation there, anyway, I'm not complaining. Now with me standing about five feet away from the stage holding a beer, she placed the robot-pumpkin on her rather atmospheric glass, transparent piano, and started talking. This was something I'm not used to. If you go and see bands like Muse, or even Blue October, there is little, if any, audience interaction. Before each song she went into charming anecdotes about how her songs came about. It says on her Wikipedia page that she most often writes her lyrics in 'the heat of a moment', after something major has happened. But this was not quite the case. The first song she sang was about people who say one thing, then do the other. A song about hypocrisy, but illustrated by Imogen via a story about someone she had over for lunch who wouldn't eat wheat or dairy, etc. She went to lengths to cook him a meal that didn't contain any of the things he had reservations about, but then kicked him out and told him he wouldn't be having any further dinners with her as he had a chocolate biscuit, saying, 'it's just one biscuit'. And so an incredible song about hypocrisy was born. The night continued with stories like this, and we gained great insight into her sampling methods. There were some which seemed quite obvious, such as the high pitched whining sound you get when you move your finger around a wine glass; something she did and sampled right there and then for a song she was about to sing. But there were more significant sampling stories. For instance, she was vague, but commented on the sound of a piece of wood, a 'significant, sentimental' piece of wood burning on a fire. She first let us hear the sound on its own, and it sounded like anything you'd just hear any 5th November. But when the sample was placed into a song, expertly and atmospherically, it brought the whole thing together.
There was another thing that I found rather intriguing. Imogen Heap commented before the start of her main set that the audience would sometimes complain if they turned up to hear songs they didn't know or didn't like. Therefore, she ran a poll before the concert pretty much asking what people wanted to hear at the concert, and the top ten made it to the stage. I thought at first that this would be a little unfair on her, as an artist, being told which pieces of art should be displayed is somewhat self-limiting to the singer's tastes and confidence. However, I was a little awe-struck at how the anecdotes and stories about each song were accompanied with messages of how much she loved each song. The general impression was that she didn't mind playing what people wanted her to play, because she loves all of her songs; if she doesn't like a song she's written, it doesn't make it onto the album. There were several surprises in the night, including a stellar performance, with Geese on the violins, of Frou Frou's Let Go, something I had been singing all day and did not in a million years expect to hear, since half of Frou Frou was missing from the stage. 'Incredible' is not even the right word, I'm not really sure what is, but it was definitely up there in defining moments of unparalleled music. The night ended with an encore, something she was direct about; 'this is my encore by the way, we have to be out of here by 11 so go get a drink, quick!'. Hide and Seek, the main thing everyone wanted to see her sing live, culminated in a symphony of bird-cage violin playing, glass piano melodies, and some excellent work on a key-tar. I may not have been dressed up as a Victorian Pimp or even Big Bird, but I have to say as far as Halloween parties go, this was perfect.
