"This is Alexis," announces POLLY PAULUSMA, pointing to her new caramel and white Stratocaster. "I've only had her a couple of weeks. All my guitars have names. There's Molly, Pearl and Baby Boy - my little acoustic."
It's a family affair where our Polly's concerned. Yes, you might think a slightly offbeat female singer/ songwriter who personalises her guitars would be a typical addition to the canon of much-vaunted quirky-something singer/ songwriters like Regina Spektor and Joanna Newsom, but that's not the point really. Any apparent quirks that come with Polly Paulusma are purely superficial: hers are songs of depth, passion and warmth and connect instantly with the discerning listener.
Polly's debut album "Scissors In My Pocket" may have been recorded in her garden shed, but its' jazz/folk/pop lightness of touch translates well in the stripped-down live format with Polly flanked by tall, black-clad bassist Oli Hayhurst and drummer Rastko Rasic, who instils some swarthy intensity and quietly performs percussive miracles at any given stroke.
Clad in simple white blouse and blue jeans, Polly seems tiny at first and a little nervous centre stage, but she's got a gorgeous smile and a gentle, winning wit and as soon as they hit the quietly tongue-in-cheek "Dark Side" from the album it's looking good. The sound in this old converted church is excellent and all the details (like the variety of curious shakers Rastko juggles) are present and correct in the mix.
Polly switches guitars with regularity and when she straps on Alexis the Strat they kick into a taut'n'economic version of the celebratory single "Give It Back". It's not the only time they rock either: a new song called "God Bless" - introduced by Polly as "my two fingers up at Bush" - brings on a meaty, full-on power trio sound and suggests album number two may have a harder edge without sacrificing Polly's marvellous, soaring vocals.
The hour-long set's well-paced and a string of new numbers ease comfortably into the more familiar album highlights. Arrangement-wise, the new songs are never less than intriguing with Rastko pounding out a hand-beaten rhythm on a bodhran on one and a second recalling Nick Drake's "River Man" in mood. This track has a lyric involving nature (mushrooms and berries are both mentioned) that Syd Barrett would be proud of and finds Rastko adding subtle samples for the band to play off. It's strange, clandestine pop and entirely captivating.
|
Both Rasic and Hayhurst are crucial to the plot, but on a couple of occasions they exit quietly and we're soon reminded that ultimately all this is about Polly and her incredibly moving songs. Delivered alone, "Mea Culpa" is a gentle, regretful acoustic confessional about acknowledging mistakes and moving on. It's great, as is under-estimated B-side "Two Stars" where Rastko brings out a glockenspiel and adds lonely, twinkly touches to a tale of unexpected pregnancy.
It's beautifully observed and signs off with the devastating lines: "It got trapped within, under sinews and skin, and it's growing every day." Possibly best of all, though, is "Perfect 4/4", the one song Polly delivers at the piano. Introduced quietly as "for my Dad", this song of intensive care and loss ("each cough rips through you, it wounds you and flatlines cry wolf on the screen") is moving almost beyond words and it's no surprise there's several seconds of silence before an appreciative ripple of applause bursts out around the room.
In a way it's impossible to follow, but saving "Over The Hill" for the finale proves a good idea. It's a jaunty, expectant two-step and once again Polly weaves some magical imagery, not least with the lines "I've got nothing for you but kisses and a pocketful of rye/ but I see our unborn children in the apple of your eye." She sings it with just a tinge of Joni Mitchell and even without the mandolin that colours in the album version it's within hailing distance of perfection.
This is Polly Paulsuma's first low-key headlining tour of Ireland, and she's still something of a well-kept secret here as yet. However, performances of this calibre can only assist her reputation to spread like wildfire. Her songs make room for beauty and tears, tenderness and emotional devastation and she has no need of the spurious 'quirky-something' movement to hang her hat upon. Smashing.
|
