Photos by Natalie Somekh
Sometimes a concert is more than a concert. Yes, it's easy to get heavy with the grandiosity at moments like this, to engage in music-critic-bullshittery and word-salad-wankery. But an evening with PJ Harvey really is a very special affair. Not since this writer saw Leonard Cohen over a decade ago has an artist had the ability to fully transport the audience into their artistic vision. No crazy pyro or props; rather, Harvey's methods are musical, enhanced by subtle lighting and smoke. Her words and melodies, movements and musicality, carry us away with her.
That's massively because of the first part of the set, which sees Harvey perform last year's I Inside the Old Year Dying album in its entirety. Despite the critical praise that was heaped upon the album, it still feels like to crept under the radar a little, at least in terms of mainstream acceptance. Because the album is a masterpiece. Elements of folk and classical music interweave with prog rock and the '90s alternative rock scene that she emerged from three decades ago. It's a whirly-spin of emotions, Shakespearean in its tail-flick from tragedy to calm.
So her sound has as much to do with Vivaldi, the Fairport Convention and Clannad as it does Tori Amos or any of her other contemporaries. It fully immerses itself in a grounded-yet-fantastical old world that Taylor Swift drove at with Folklore and Evermore, Melanie Martinez with Portals. Harvey's fans may balk at those comparisons, but they shouldn't. Despite Swift's and Martinez's clear desire to stretch limbs and explore these new worlds, there's the nagging feeling that they're still beholden to "pop" -- that something is holding them back. PJ Harvey doesn't have these issues.
Perhaps it's telling that I Inside the Old Year Dying is her first album on an independent label (Partisan) since her Dry debut in '92. She's only answering to herself. Then again, that might be a touch unfair; it's not as if the eight albums she released on Island/Universal felt hampered by corporate influences. She's really always played the game her way anyway.
To pick out tracks from the new album performed in the first part of the set would be a redundant exercise. The whole thing flows so beautifully, orchestrally, peaking and troughing as we find ourselves floating on a carpet of Harvey's words. Surrounded by the trees up at the Greek Theatre, it's hard to imagine a more appropriate venue for this music (maybe Red Rocks in Denver).
The second part of the set began with the folk-stomp of "The Colour of the Earth" from 2011's Let England Shake, Harvey letting her band run through that one without her. She reemerged for "The Glorious Land" and "The Words That Maketh Murder" from the same album, then she pulled out the classic "50ft Queenie" from 1993's sophomore, Steve Albini-produced Rid of Me. That song injected some welcome crunch into the evening, highlighting the dynamics that Harvey is capable of.
We also get "Dress" from Dry, and three songs from 1995's incredible To Bring You My Love. When the end comes, the vibe from the audience is one of waking from a dream. Somehow, we all have to give our heads a shake and find our way home. But this is an experience that will live with us for some time to come.
