Annie Eve

To watch this show is to get the sense that both nothing and everything is happening at the same time. It's a strange, dichotomous thing, and although it would be fair so say that the sparse crowd probably has something to do with it, it's the sounds that come rumbling from the stage that complete the effect. This isn't a criticism in the slightest. Eve's vocal has this ghostly ability to leave her utterances sounding unfinished, endlessly suggestive, as if they're going on to find closure in some other realm of reality. The kind of calm fury generated here is beguiling, offbeat in a way that you're eventually convinced no one else could quite replicate it. Stylistically it's difficult to put your finger on. It's like the 22-year-old took some folk sensibilities, dragged them kicking and screaming into the underworld and brought them back again drenched in a delightful darkness. These are hectic, whispering tracks, excellently written and executed. Admittedly there is very little engagement from Eve and her band between songs, but whether that's down to end-of-tour tiredness, lack of audience, or something else, it doesn't really matter too much. The trade off is that you get this intense, closed bubble of ethereal buzz that's absolutely in keeping with the feel of the night, with Eve in the centre of it all rocking the vibe of a hippy/Beetlejuice lovechild. If you're in the mood, it's smashing stuff.