The Vanguard can be a hard nut to crack. It’s Friday night, and most of the floor is covered with diners who have eaten and drunk well, and are far more content to listen to the sound of their own voices than a lone woman with a guitar.
Laura Imbruglia emerges to a wall of noise: talk, laughter and the rattle of knives on plates. But Laura is a tough nut too. She squares up against the noise, takes out her guitar and starts fighting back. She has a strong voice and good material. She enjoys building a song around a playful idea, teasing it out and discovering where it leads.
Her observations are original and witty. She sings about a boy she won’t date because his head is too large. She’s afraid it might prove hereditary. She sings a soft love song where she is re-born as a cicada. There is a lot going on in Laura’s mind. Sometimes the ideas flow faster than I can absorb. I’d like to hear her slow down sometimes, and make more use of the melodic range of her voice.
The crowd are paying attention by the end of the set, allowing Laura to relax and show her natural stage presence and sense of humour. There’s a great moment of comedy when she is performing a duet with Mark Brennan towards the end of her set, as both forget the next verse and instantly improvise a new one.
When Clare Bowditch comes to the stage the crowd is cheerful and expectant. She is relaxed, happy to take her time over a song and let the ideas come out in due procession. Her voice lingers on a thought, then chases up a scale like a deer on a hillside. She finds beauty in simple things – a neighbour she never spoke to, an old love, her own father. She chats to the crowd between songs. We get a chance not only to learn about the singer and the songs, but also to digest the music we have just heard.
Clare is joined by Libby Chow, who contributes French Horn and voice harmonics. The two performers have practised hard, to produce the full vocal harmonies of songs like Midnight Bird. The French Horn is an unusual instrument on the rock stage, and produces an unusual, poignant effect, the slow notes of a fading memory.
The Vanguard crowd knows they’ve had a great deal: good food followed by great music. As Clare and Libby walk from the stage to the house front to offer their CDs, no one is in a hurry to leave.
