MUSIC

Bristol Cathedral (Tue 25 Oct) Spotlit columns vaulting to the heavens, a stage backed by an intricately carved chancel screen beyond which lies inky darkness; Bristol Cathedral is quite a venue. The congregation’s quiet, tight-packed and squirmingly polite, a mix of self-conscious young things and slightly smug couples their parents’ age.

The Leisure Society are in full swing, their folksy fireside harmonising aglow with optimism. Entwined voices, flute and acoustic strum fill the space with warmth and a boyish bonhomie. They’re best when a snippet of sinister lyric escapes the thrum; the set’s unlikely highpoint an echoing cover of Erasure’s ‘A Little Respect’, coiling to a close with a weep of violin.

A bell rings as Marling and Co arrive – but not an ominous tolling, more a school bell’s clang. She’s self-deprecating to a fault, the intersong chat all nervous stop-starts and non-sequitur. But when she sings – and sing she does, flooding the ancient stones with sound – her confidence is unmistakable. The set dips in and out of all three albums to date, with plenty of last month’s ‘A Creature I Don’t Know’. The bass drum’s boom rolls across the age-smoothed floor, Marling’s voice curling in arches above. Her seven-strong band layer in multi-instrumentalist wonders and radiant choral polyphony. It’s faultless, shifting unfazed from joyous shanty to simmering menace. And yet, with songcraft this skilled and an acoustic this responsive, such riches seem over-ornament. Midset, Marling’s left to solo awhile. The wintry, nostalgic ‘Goodbye England’ and parasomniac quiver of ‘Night Terror’ reveal a power hitherto smothered. Later, the band return to finish the set, and that intimate, intricate majesty is engulfed again in the busy tapestry of their skill. It’s beautiful nonetheless – but a gilded lily. (Mike White)

Copyright Mike White 2011