Cat Power

Chan Marshall, AKA Cat Power, is one of the most talented songwriters of her, or any, generation. Blessed with a voice capable of the most earthy blues growls through to the most exquisite, whisky tinged heights, Marshall's take on the sparse folk melancholia also pioneered by Will Oldham, Howe Gelb and others is all her own, as much a vent for genuine personal demons as a mere creative outlet. Her fragility, so central to the beauty of her recent Moon Pix and Covers Record albums, has been known to render her live performances wildly unpredictable, with forgotten lines and mid-performance breakdowns peppering many a past performance.

First, however, we're treated to the caustic intensity of Lift To Experience, a trio of Texans fronted by the son of an evangelical preacher, whose piercing stare is as intense as the rabid sermons he delivers over oscillating swathes of coruscating guitar noise. The sheer power the band command has borne comparison with the likes of Mogwai and Godspeed You Black Emperor!, but theirs is a sound far more rooted in the redeeming aura of Country and the fire and brimstone grit of their homeland to be accused of post-rock plagiarism. The apocalyptic imagery espoused by the band, tied as it is with shades of religious hectoring intriguing enough to win over the staunchest of atheists, makes Lift To Experience only more compelling.

Chan Marshall's arrival on stage was unannounced, her long, straight hair covering most of her face, the glaring spotlight illuminating her lone, awkward presence centre stage. Her nerves were immediately apparant, whispered banter with the crowd reeking more of insecurity than any genuine wish to amuse. The sound problems that blighted the beginning of her set didn't help, her ancient-sounding electric guitar rendered bassy and indistinct. Despite this, her voice was instantly compelling, juggling a sense of innocent naivete with a warm, garrulous edge reminiscent of any number of old Blues and Country singers. Her take on Come On In My Kitchen by Robert Johnson was gloriously sparse, forcing every last drop of latent carnality from every word, while a version of Knockin' On Heavens Door, partially sung by the audience, rendered an overly familiar standard with the box fresh emotional punch of a newly penned classic. Her own material fared slightly worse, Marshall's nerves forcing her to abort songs without conclusion with only a whispered apology before the next, often unsuccessful, attempt. Much of this proved exasperating, but forgivable; each burst of inconsequential strumming and anxious procastination was met with a patch of genuine inspiration, a beautifully languid take on Sea Of Love from her recent Covers Record proving a particular highlight.

Not without infuriation, the live Cat Power experience is certainly unsuited to those new to her idiosyncratic brand of songwriting, but for those willing to tolerate the lapses and uncertainty, genuine treats lie in store.