Florence And The Machine
When: Saturday 13th May 2010
Where: Hammersmith Apollo, London
Florence Welch is quite simply the nation's most magnetic female performer. Owner of that captivating, enthralling je ne sais quoi, which means letting her out of your sight, even for a second, simply isn't option - such is the possibility of missing something memorable.
And on Saturday's night evidence at a long-sold out and jubilant Hammersmith Apollo, Flo showed she's more than deserving of off-repeated comparisons with her idol and kooky '70s visionary Kate Bush - on the performance front anyway.
Sadly though, in terms of her actual songwriting output to date, she's still got some way to go before she can be justifiably considered worthy of taking her place alongside the beguiling chanteuse in the recording stakes, but more of that later.
Performing on a magnificently appointed stage, which was clearly geared up for the enormodomes she'll surely inhabit once the successor to her debut, Lungs, is released – she stylishly reclaimed the 'showgirl' title from Ms Minogue.
With a 10-piece gospel choir, string section and a harpist all in position, Ms Welch dramatically emerged from a huge revolving disco ball to whoops of delight, commanding the stage with an intoxicating mixture of panache and primal force from first second until last of this tour finale.
All fishnets, toxic red hair and alabaster skin, her energy levels were something to behold.
Opener Howl was bellowed out with Welch's voice wailing and crashing like a stormy sea, yet crystal clear and pitch perfect none the less.
It was after this though, that things went a little awry. As despite the musicianship and vocals being spot on throughout, Welch's lack of killer material, aside from her clutch of mesmeric singles was immediately apparent. Hidden track Swimming and My Boy Builds Coffins, despite being delivered with fearless conviction, lacked a cutting edge and spark, while the pounding Drumming Song also failed to strike a meaningful chord.
Yet such is the tour de force nature of the eccentric, red-headed Londoner that all this was immediately forgotten once the opening strains of her cover of Candi Staton's (and a key reason she can sell consecutive nights out at the Apollo in a trice) You've Got The Love was issued and girlfriends (at Welch's request) were boozily hoisted onto shoulders.
It was quickly followed by a pulsating, romping Dog Days Are Over, before an encore concluded with the compelling Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up) and sparked the kind of carnival atmosphere generally reserved for sun-soaked festivals.
Welch possesses the sort of old London, music hall charisma which first brought Pete Doherty to the country's attention before his spiral into drug and court case abandon, a true English eccentric who deserves to be cherished.
In order for her to deserve the arena-sized adulation, which is clearly coming her way, the studio sessions for album two need to prove more fruitful and striking so those almightily lungs power more of the sort of tunes her stage presence and magnetism deserve.
Words: Lawrence Poole
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