Beth Orton - Reading Hexagon - 20/10/02
4/5
By: Toby L
The term 'mixed crowd' hardly does the scene in question justice. Testament to the sparkling array of largely acoustic-led antidotes to the various perils of modern-life which Orton so sublimely and harmoniously delivers time and time again, this evening's host of characters that have turned up to watch the woman bear her soul are the sensitive type - yet, literally, of all shapes, sizes, ages and backgrounds. Indeed, the only thing they all have in common with one another is a mutual, and rather scarce, respect-line to silence during the upcoming performance, and absorb as much of the on-stage serenity as possible. The resulting effect is utterly rewarding.
With chandeliers gleaming and fairy-lights twinkling throughout the course of the affair, it's a notable wonder how Beth remains so human, just like the rest of us - not some distant, ice-queen diva, whose crossover-folk marks enjoyment purely for those within an elite 'it'-crowd. She treads into view to unanimous adulation from a sell-out audience, who quickly become orderly and shush their excitement. She smirks, and whispers in as low a voice as possible, 'Hello Reading,' to combat the lack of vocal-volume.
Before long, the opening progresses into a blissful 'Paris Train', though - suitable to the stated transport-system - this welcoming prospect doesn't come without hitches. Orton halts her verse and instead croaks into the microphone, 'I know it's unprofessional - but I need to clear my throat.' Laughs echo around the hall, and an outbreak of hysteria ensues when our gal attempts to rid of the mucus which ails her - by releasing it into a nearby towel; if there's any moment in life where shame could lead to immediate execution, it would be this - but even such a grotesque event fails to mar the transcendent beauty of a performer whose openness creates a stark empathy with her attendees.
Throughout from here on in, the results are plain sailing, Beth partially less communicative than usual, and alternatively choosing to partake full energy into gently intense renditions of 'Daybreaker' and the mid-tempo minimalism which greets the not-quite-but-almost-country 'God Song'. Outstandingly, too, within the live-arena, much of the subtlety which greets Orton's recorded-templates for material is exchanged for arrangements which spiral beyond all expectation, enveloping all attention, yet never falling into the category marked 'over-produced'. Collectively, Beth and band provide the concept of 'contemplative song-writing' with a defiant kick up the backside.
Following beyond an hour of the matter, and an unspoiled 'Central Reservation' (despite its introduction being remarkably cocked-up), the traditional encore-break is enabled, and the once-restrained spectators all of a sudden bark for more with all the class and inhibition of an unleashed gorilla. She duly obliges the request, returning on-stage solo to shimmer through acoustic-outings of the Ryan Adams-penned 'This One's Gonna Bruise' and scintillating recent-single 'Concrete Sky', yet, naturally, the main heap of praise is reserved for the full-band backed 'She Cries Your Name', every bit as whimsical, impacting and searing as it sounded when it was first heard years ago.
With the bonus of a further encore just minutes later, as the house-lights return and you recall the people you witnessed such an experience with, sure enough, the mixture of types present is still naggingly scattered. But, despite the noticeable differences, at least one common interest is shared - a deep affinity, belief and bond shared between us all with this woman's engulfing talent.
Artists in this article: Beth Orton
Your Feedback
Login to post your comment