A picture might last longer, but when it comes to Bertie Blackman, judge on appearances and you’ll miss the point entirely. Yes. She’s a petite blonde with a killer voice and starkly individual style, who has already shown her pop credentials with the 2004 breakthrough track Favorite Jeans. The perfect package. A music moguls marketing dream. Fortunately, Blackman doesn’t give a fig about appearances, or what anyone else thinks for that matter.
Arriving at The Evelyn through the front entrance, there are no airs and graces as she negotiates door entry for her guests. The door girl isn’t too keen on letting in the somewhat terse blonde, whose name isn’t on any list, until she quietly growls “I’m playing tonight”.
Support acts Sparkadia and Armen Firman are both strong, if slightly mismatched with the headliner. Both bands boast an accomplished live sound – it’s uplifting rock played with boundless enthusiasm. Still, there’s a lingering feeling, or more accurately the lack of a lingering feeling after they leave the stage, that suggests neither band have yet managed to stake out their own territory in the rock landscape. It’s not far off though, so keep an eye out.
Blackman crouches on stage – setting up her gear, taking her time and looking like there are a million other places she’d rather be on this particular Saturday night. It takes a while for her to warm up, nerves seems to be playing a part until she is bolstered by the full backing of her band. She really comes into her own when she returns to the stage brandishing a hubcap, proceeding to bash out her own accompaniment.
Despite rarely making eye contact with the crowd, Blackman holds sway in her own universe. Her voice tonight is lower and more guttural than on her latest studio offering Black, and the raw edge takes songs like Hold Me Close and You Kill Me away from the leaning towards pop-rock and into darker, more complex and more blatantly sexually charged territory.
Blackman seems to be in two minds most of the night. Her raw talent puts her in a glaring spotlight that she seems to be uneasy in, preferring to try (unsuccessfully) to cast reflected glory onto her bandmates. The swinging pendulum sees Blackman round out her set with a cover of Nine Inch Nails Closer, before returning for an intimate solo encore Last Song. These two extremes say it all. Blackman is constantly changing, she looks and sounds different from one minute to the next. She’s at her best as a performer when absorbed in the music around her; she visibly lets her guard down and throws her whole body into the rhythm and ripping guitar choruses provided by her faultless band on Fast Bitch. As a musician, she is far more compelling on her own terms, stripped back to raw essentials and honest intensity. Whichever direction she ultimately goes, Blackman’s take no prisoners Fast Bitch approach is intimidating, but exhilarating to watch.
