Darkness may have fallen on a fourth winter evening of New To Q Sessions at Notting Hill's Tabernacle but one man has the chilled summer funk to keep the snow at bay.
Initiating proceedings without so much as an "Evenin' all" is Hackney-via-Zimbabwe troubadour Tinashé: a smooth emblazered operator with a voice like caramelised plantain. Wide-eyed and guitar-smitten he chugs and strums with pop-fectious musicality on Saved, exuding bags of effortless soul. Cleverly weaving a reference to Vampire Weekend's A-Punk into the Arc-oustic Monkey-like A-Liar, he reclaims his Afrobeat roots - the song's titular similarity being of no coincidence.
Changing pace is Goldheart Assembly, a beardy college-rock outfit together with plaid shirts and awkward professorial-chic guitarist. They would clearly be from America's West Coast if it weren't for their oddly convincing English accents. King Of Rome is a California Dreamin'-esque nod to Beach Boys harmonies delivered with Monkees cheekiness, whereas single Oh Really moves towards garage rock Weezer.
Their joy onstage is refreshing: the bassist-cum-vocalist beams ad bobs his mop-'do in a manner unseen since Ringo unpacked his Heinz baked beans in India. This sextet have more in common with Fleet Foxes and Beach House than their London counterparts.
Completing the bill is Marina & The Diamonds, the first of the much-hyped Welsh headliners. Wales haven't seen this much diva since Dame Bassey, also a fan of diamonds - real ones.
Here in droves and unbeknowingly helping Philip Green display this season's entire Topshop collection, the "Diamonds" of Marina &... are her trendy fans, whom she greets with a "HELLO DIAMONDS!" Apparently Florence & The Machine 2.0, the love of ampersands is where the likeness to a certain Ms Welch stops.
In the battle of the eccentrics she's more Natasha Khan morphed into a Poker Face'd Lady GaGa. With lyrical name-dropping (see the rhyming of Catherine Zeta/Shakira/Marina), it's this product consciousness and self-referencing that make her musical Marmite. Wolf calls, persona-acting and pursed Debbie Harry lips wrapped around shrieky vocals about stray cats eating chicken bones don't dispel the Kate Bush comparisons (note in particular: the Wuthering Heights-y "cuckoo"ing of closer Mowgli's Road). But the glampop of I Am Not A Robot, Oh No! and Shampain are more She-Mika (or Ma-shr-Ika), and, with a pop concert feel, you'd be hard-pushed to find anyone besides Mika who could sing along. Which is why her piano-led Obsessions impresses if just to demonstrate her ability to channel the near-operatic key of Cyndi Lauper sat down.
Like a sorceress conjuring a spell (or Stevie Nicks circa Edge Of Seventeen, minus the gypsy garb) she lassos her already adoring Diamonds with one foul swooping of Hollywood, which she tactfully reminds us is out on Monday. Apparently she's scared. If the talk of her hard slog be true, she need worry not. Her dog days are over.
Words: Eve Barlow
12:28 PM | 01/02/2010
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Is this the concert I so narrowly avoided?
Posted by Michele at 1:48 PM | 02/02/2010 | Report Abuse
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