London Jazz Festival @ Royal Festival Hall, London, 20 November 2009
Madeleine Peyroux
Enigmatic songstress Madeline Peyroux paid her first visit to the Royal Festival Hall as part
of the London Jazz Festival and wooed the audience with effortless
style.
Fingering
her bowler hat, like a child with their comfort blanket, she drew us closer,
creating an intimate aura in the large auditorium. Her easy, laidback air fit
her assertion that tonight the set would be "pared down to the
essentials".
Slow,
seductive, poignant and free, Peyroux's voice fluttered above the jazz-flecked,
folky sounds of the quartet in a set stuffed with boozey, bluesy lyrics both
French and English.
Most songs were familiar to fans as they came from older
albums; unusual, considering her latest, Bare Bones, came out just in April.
Perhaps the lady is still shy about performing those new numbers;
numbers which are mostly original and made for her.
You Can't Do Me and happy,
break-up song I'm All Right were
surefire hits. The one other "happy song" she promised was swallowed up in the sad
song shuffle. Dance Me To The End Of Love still sounded fresh, and a cover of
I'll Be Seeing You, delivered with her trademark dreamy approach, worked
brilliantly. Mostly notable for the step-up in tempo and echoes of Billie
Holiday, I Hear Music also received great applause.
However,
overall the programme was a pedestrian affair. No one who knows Peyroux's
melancholic mode would expect fireworks, but the music trundled along, so
casually, so close to lullaby as to be somnambulistic and started to
feel indistinct.
There were no flares of subtle virtuosity, no sparks from dulcet
improvisations,
nor much fun to be had in the show at all. The band's light
and languid
collective personality seemed less elegant than remote.
Similarly, Peyroux's
occasional interjections were simple and amusing, but none were memorable or
revealing. It seemed a shame that this singer, who tells a thousand tales
through her music, omitted the remarkable anecdotes she must have saved up,
whether from her time busking in Paris or going AWOL from her label. She
retained her mystery, but by not opening up and becoming more personable she
risked being frustratingly anonymous on stage.
There was
one moment of striking stage management where Peyroux and the band recreated a
scene from her time as a street artist. The mood briefly shifted to a
nostalgic romance during the performance of Bessie Smith's Don't Cry; the
history, the story, the loneliness became incredibly tangible. This is where
Peyroux's great opportunities for understated showmanship lie.
She left as enigmatic as she'd arrived, a fine complement to a successful London Jazz Festival year.
ALBUM:
more 
