Cat Power

The rise of Chan Marshall, aka Cat Power, to the position of cult figure on the alterna-circuit has been made in moderate, incremental shifts, her raw early material, often produced in collaboration with members of Sonic Youth, gradually replaced in favour of one of the most minimal folk aesthetics in circulation today. Her live shows have often proved more skeletal than her records, Marshall mercilessly exposing the bruised inner sanctum of her songs, and wringing every last drop of lacerating emotion from those of other artists that she chooses to cover, often leaving them unrecognisable.

In one of her most intimate London shows in recent years, in a tiny, sparkling, disused ballroom in Shepherds Bush, Marshall had mixed musical support. Montana Hi-Rise, a male/female folk duo of frustratingly average quality, spun a set of pleasant but forgettable acoustic vignettes, all of which leaned on familiar singer/songwriter lyrical staples. The occasionally impressive vocals of the female lead singer failed to lift the set above the mundane.

James Yorkston and the Atheletes, meanwhile, proved a quiet revelation. Backed only by lovely finger-picked acoustic guitar, often bringing to mind the subtle expressiveness of a John Fahey or Leo Kottke, and the warm, cloudy drone of a rickety harmonium, Yorkston's songs displayed all the breadth of experience and emotion lacking in those of Montana Hi-Rise. Pitched somewhere between the gorgeous harmonies of Low and the backwoods folk of Appendix Out, albeit with the glass defiantly half full, Yorkston may soon be taking his place on the high table of Alt-Country.

Chan Marshall, of course, took her place some time ago, but it's a fact her nervous, highly strung stage persona belies. Her sets are often peppered with false starts, nervous exclamations and whispered apologies, and tonight was no exception, although they were noticably smaller in number than during her fractured, wrought set at the Garage last year.

It's a testament to the ultra-minimalism of the live Cat Power experience that the shy, metronomic scuff of Marshall's feet during each song was louder than her guitar, but this made ample space for her vocals, alternately like those of a timeless Blues singer scarred by whisky and like a lost naif, innocent and honey coated, to soar above the darkened stage and mingle with the diamond chandeliers above our heads. Those moments when Marshall stepped behind the grand piano perched to stage left were particularly transcendent, her piano playing simple but notably confidant, at once rhythmic and fluid.

Early on in the set, which lasted for at least one and a half hours, Marshall debuted one of many new songs, quite possibly her most overtly morbid yet, and yet somehow she turned a song detailing child abuse and teenage drug dealing into something unmistakably warm and beautiful, displaying a perfect balance between the wasted poetry of the lyrics and the glowing, folksy economy of the lullaby-like piano refrain that underpinned it all.

Marshall's choice of songs was generous, allowing us to bathe in the unalloyed grace of her Velvet Underground cover 'I Found A Reason', treating us to the garralous Blues of Robert Johnson's 'Come On In My Kitchen', delivering many a new song, some of which sounded surprisingly buoyant and unfettered, and even inviting the audience to whistle along. (Although, this being a Cat Power concert, the effect was more haunting than irreverent). I, for one, was left eager for more.