Formed in 2009, The 2 Bears are the London duo made up of Hot Chip’s Joe Goddard with DJ and radio host Raf Rundell. Their collaboration is born out of a shared passion for House music, especially its communal vibe. Rundell adds affable lead vocals to several tracks in a South London amalgam of Ian Drury and Jona Lewie with a touch of Damon Albarn. It’s an easy-on-the-ear style that adds a lightness to the record. Having said that, “The Birds & the Bees” provides a bright opener, though it is largely instrumental. Little, looped layers of melody and bursts of brass add interest to an essentially two-chord turn.

The title track breezes down a familiar corridor while “Bear Hug”, which follows, sounds like the duo have invited English boxer Frank Bruno along to provide guest vocals. The alleged Bruno returns with some homespun homily on “Warm & Easy” (“Love is lovely, and war is ugly”), a song that drifts along nice and easy, keeps its tongue in cheek, and hits the uplift spot. The geezer-in-a-stetson approach to “Time in Mind” is possibly the only time the record misses a beat. The album closes with “Church”, a kind of comedown song with less of the chill. It embraces the communal spirit of House and resolves itself into the mantra “Let’s get up together” laced with Caribbean rhythms. And with that conundrum, the album neatly avoids any accusations of mere pastiche.

Essential Tracks: “The Birds & the Bees”, “Warm & Easy”, and “Church”

The percussion-heavy title song opens things with surprising vigor in a kind of Wild West gallop set against the ghostly charm of Gibson’s disembodied vocal. Signaling the variety to come, Gibson then sounds like Ingrid Michaelson’s country cousin on the tender “Milk-Heavy, Pollen Eyed” with lines like “Try as I may to carve my path, I can’t keep myself from stumbling back to you” serving to strengthen the association. It is a simply lovely song, embellished with exquisite clarinet lines from Jilly Coykendall. Gibson the singer and multi-instrumentalist is always at the heart of things but also draws fine support from the ranks of Calexico, The Decemberists, The Dodos, and drummers Rachel Blumberg and Matt Berger.

“Lion/Lamb” is a curiously louche offering that somehow marries a jazzy, tropical beat with all kinds of ethereal, distorted sounds. Both “Skin, Warming Skin”, with its woozy chorus, and the raucous barroom piano and drums of “The Fire” hint at more of a pop-folk direction, though the closer “Feather Lungs” could be a statement about the singer’s delivery as much as a song title. The dreamy “Red Moon” has a dismembered charm, and you could imagine a David Lynch screenplay around Gibson’s fancy to “carry your torch and drink of your poetry.”

While a sense of nostalgia runs through the record — from archaic instrumental sounds and gramophone crackle to Gibson’s own pure vocal distilled through multi-tracking — the sheer craft she brings to blending the old with the new makes listening an altogether rewarding experience.

Essential Tracks: “Milk-Heavy, Pollen Eyed”, “Red Moon”, and “Lion/Lamb”

“The lazy bastard living in a suit,” to quote opening track “Going Home”, appeared dapper in dark grey with trilby pulled down over his brow, occasionally lifted to reveal a carpet of closely cropped grey hair. His trim frame and still handsome profile belies his years, similarly remaining mentally sharp. With Cohen taking a front seat by guest interviewer, Pulp’s Jarvis Cocker, the 10 songs from Old Ideas were replayed to a screen backdrop of song lyrics alongside a collage of Cohen’s scribbled notebooks and drawings. The inside cover of Old Ideas, housing his sketch of a naked woman and skull, suggests that his enduring concerns with sex, mortality and redemption remain. On screen, the words crystallized; words, almost always poetic yet allusive as ever, while the music just ebbed and flowed around them.

Albums deserve more than a single listen for impressions to form fully but the attention and applause engendered spoke volumes. In the dialogue that followed, Cocker bravely attempted to tease secrets of the songwriter’s art from Cohen, who largely was having none of it. The sparring was nonetheless fascinating with Cocker doggedly dangling the bait and Cohen constantly eluding the line. I mean where do you go when the response to “How is it for you to listen to your own records?” was “I wasn’t listening.” Though he added postscripts to questions, the skill Cohen used to deflect some all too earnest inquiries was a delight. It’s his version of Hamlet’s antic disposition you could say; his method in madness. Asked about his deepening vocal timbre, he perversely put it down to giving up cigarettes. “I thought it would destroy my whole position and my voice would rise to a soprano.” He vowed to take up the habit again on reaching 80, just so he could smoke on the road!

The wit in Cohen’s responses had a dose of realism too; whereas fame as a songwriter once carried much credence with the opposite sex “now it doesn’t really matter one way or the other.” Cohen declared a love of poetry early on, especially that of Yeats whom he said “had a willingness to put his personal life on the line,” and the Spanish writer, Federico Garcia Lorca, after whom he named his daughter. Judging by the notebooks on screen during the album playback, you might expect Cohen to be a prolific ideas generator. Yet he claimed the opposite in that “you just work with what you got… I always felt I was scraping the bottom of the barrel just trying to get a song together. I never had the sense I was standing in front of a buffet table with a multitude of choices.”

Cohen wouldn’t be drawn on hidden meanings. “Let’s not examine the nature of images that seem to have their own validity. If you look too deeply into things you get into a state of paralysis.” Throughout, Cohen appeared reluctant to dissect his work in front of a bunch of critics and fell back on logic as well as humor to deflect things, putting a metaphorical arm around Cocker, his fellow songwriter. “We’ve got to be very careful analysing these sacred mechanics because somebody will throw a monkey wrench into the thing and we’ll never write a line again.” He added that “now and then something invites you to animate it, which you try and do with grace and illumination.”

Cocker asked about the album title, Old Ideas, and the gestation of the record. “You know, I don’t have that many ideas,” Cohen batted back. The sacred and the carnal may be bedfellows in Cohen’s work but the songwriter would not say whether it was God or man who should be the penitent one. He added: “I never figured that one out.” Cohen was more prosaic when acknowledging the PEN New England award for literary excellence in song lyrics. “The thing I liked about this award was that I’m sharing it with Chuck Berry. Roll over Beethoven and tell Tchaikovsky the news. I’d have loved to have written that line.”

Questions from the floor followed. Recalling his last tour, a 247-date marathon over two years following a 15 year break, the artist claimed the experience invigorated and illuminated him. Wryly he compared himself to a latter days Ronald Reagan: “he remembered he’d had a good role. He’d played the president in a movie and I felt somewhat that I had been a singer.” Being back on the road though redeemed this self put-down. He coyly played down the possibility of a duet with Rufus Wainwright (father of a Cohen grandchild): “he can keep a tune and that puts me at a disadvantage.”

“Anthem”:

Perhaps the most precious moment arrived when Cohen was asked where the light came into “The Darkness”, quoting that enigmatic line from 1992 song, “Anthem”: “there is a crack in everything/that’s how the light gets in.” “You got me stumped there” was Cohen’s droll retort. Cocker stepped in and prompted Cohen to open up. “It’s just the song that allows the light to come in. It’s the position of the man standing up in the face of something that is irrevocable and unyielding and singing about it. It’s the sort of position Zorba the Greek took; that when things get really bad, you just raise your glass and stamp your feet and do a little jig and that’s about all you can do.”

Maybe it really is that simple and there’s no need to break into discussion groups to pull apart lyrics once Old Ideas hits the streets.

Photography courtesy of Sony.

On this night, Cargo was busy, so Norwegian post-rockers Maribel opened the show to a reasonable size crowd. The band offered minimal verbal contact and delivered ponderous, slow-build soundscapes mostly bereft of anything by way of a tune. Vocalist Rebekka von Markstein seems to have studied at the school of Portishead. She can obviously sing but tonight strayed off-key quite a bit. Maybe she was just depressed by the content. The audience response was polite but muted while an annoying smoke machine also contributed to the gloom.

Photo by Anika Mottershaw

As the main event, Lanterns on the Lake by contrast have the tunes, and this simple fact vindicated their greatly melancholic content. By the time the Newcastle, UK, outfit took the stage, the room was rammed, hot, and hazy. Lanterns on the Lake ply a compelling amalgam of indie-folk with traditional overtones and post-rock, mingled with a dash of electronica and shoegaze. Band members also switched instruments now and again, an art in itself with six of them on a cluttered stage.

Opening with “Lungs Quicken”, Lanterns showed a delicate lightness of touch as they layered the song from soft, percussive beginnings through to a Revere-style rinse for a much more intense experience than on record. Sometimes behind a curtain of long, blonde hair, singer-guitarist Hazel Wilde’s shimmering, breathy vocals perfectly complimented the forlorn beauty of the music. Adam Sykes, sporting a fine moustache in the style of a young General Robert E. Lee, added a lead vocal here and there and some fragile harmonies, while drummer Oliver Ketteringham, an uncanny double of 24’s Jack Bauer, also took turns on piano and synth. Brendan Sykes’ bass pulsated and probed, Sarah Kemp’s violin dextrously lit up phrases, and Paul Gregory’s guitar was constantly inventive and now and again played with a bow.

Photo by Anika Mottershaw

Lanterns’ 11-song set contained any manner of highlights from the majestic “A Kingdom”, which built to an intense Doves-like percussive ending, to the expressive “Keep on Trying” that had an audience member call out, “What a band. What a fucking band” straight after. You could almost sense the relief in the brief laughter that followed as an audience somewhat mesmerized into quietness by this performance collectively breathed out.

Other than perhaps with the gloomy “Sapsorrow”, the impetus never faltered, and the last three songs were played out to perfection. “Tricks”, with its skilful embellishment of a simple piano riff, segued into a dynamic “I Love You, Sleepyhead” via Gregory’s plaintive, bowed guitar fill. “Not Going Back to the Harbour” proved a fitting closer with a magic moment as the singers stepped back from the mikes and the whole band joined in on a simple vocal refrain. The long drawn out, stately instrumental conclusion was simply beautiful and required no encore. Exited a band that not many can hold a candle to for sheer atmosphere. Exited a contented audience.

Photography by Anika Mottershaw.

Setlist:
Lungs Quicken
If I’ve Been Unkind
A Kingdom
Ships in the Rain
You Need Better
You’re Almost There
Keep on Trying
Sapsorrow
Tricks
I Love You, Sleepyhead
Not Going Back to the Harbour

At just 22 minutes long, this is more of an extended EP than an album proper. Opener “Fathers” features lyrics about setting daughters free, which may be a bit premature for three teenaged dudes. However, the short wailing guitar solo echoes back some way, showing signs of classic aging. Other than confusing the singular with the plural, it’s a very decent song that the rest of the set doesn’t quite match up to, mainly because most of the songs are over much too soon to gestate fully.

“Easily Lovable” shows promise, but is melodically akin to The Script’s UK hit “Breakeven”, while the title track is intriguing even if lead vocalist Waugh sounds af if he’s recovering from a cold. “Devil In Disguise” is heavily influenced by Cream, which might also explain the bonus track on the band’s streaming site, a live cover of “Sunshine Of Your Love”. It’s a reasonable cover, and clearly appreciated by the young ladies in the audience. Sadly, it doesn’t appear on the record, probably due to copyright.

It’s quite an achievement to have an album on the market at 16. That in itself should forgive the lack of production finesse and wild variations in recording level. Clashing Colours have a ways to go, but they’ve quickly made it this far. That in itself is an accomplishment.

Essential Tracks: “Fathers”, “The Blue, The White & The Red”

Having Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon along as co-producer (and love interest) might do the trick in itself. But that would do a disservice to Edwards, who has consistently moved up the scale. Her 2008 release, Asking For Flowers, set a high-water mark, and Voyageur dodges comparisons by presenting the artist’s consistently literate songs in a new light. There are still guitar-led tracks, but Vernon has introduced real variety in his subtly layered approach to production and fresh instrumentation. Vocally, Edwards’ trademark drawl is softer and mellower.

Voyageur traverses Edwards’ love of her homeland and its place in her personal relationships. The journey begins with brisk economy on the Springsteen-echoed “Empty Threat”. In this case it’s “moving to America”, so it seems Canada still wins. Along the way, the scenery gets more diverse: We travel from the rich, earthy balladry of “A Soft Place To Land” and the bright and breezy keyboard charged “Change The Sheets” to the slow guitar rock of “Mint” and a power-poppy “Sidecar”. It’s an exhilarating ride that also takes in punch lines, empty rooms, champagne, and the road to hell.

On closing song “For The Record”, Edwards exorcizes past ghosts. “Hang me up on your cross,” she offers up, “for the record I only wanted to sing songs.” As if to demonstrate the point, this is the most expansive song on the album, though never losing a sense of restraint over its seven-minute duration. In all, this is an album that we’ll still be listening to come next December.

Essential Tracks: “Empty Threat”, “A Soft Place To Land”, “Change The Sheets”, and “For The Record”

Does it work? Well, yes, as a counter to the inflated, Auto-Tuned efforts of many of her peers, this is communication stripped to its barest. Her words are delivered with a quiet passion and you hear every syllable. There’s a simplicity to Walsh’s work that should never be mistaken for naivety. The title track says it all: “You know it’s real if you can feel your heart.” Bathed in a lush melody, Walsh gives rein to some melismatic Joni Mitchell moments in a song that shows a welcome optimism compared to much of her past work. There remains a reflective mood to the record, hinting that the singer recalls love lost as much that found, yet tender love songs like “The Real Thing” and “You Are Home” show Walsh can write equally from a happy place. Indeed, the hope of enduring love has rarely been more tenderly put than in “He Is A Bird”.

From the sweeping melodrama of “The Dark Knight” to the glowing imagery of “The Baker”, the latter heightened by Whippy’s sympathetic cello, Kate Walsh puts words to music seamlessly. Things reach a fitting conclusion in “Snow”, a perfect song for Christmas. At this time of the year, sentimentality is forgivable and in any case redeemed by the eloquent refrain, “Our love is like snow/It covers all we know.” Kate Walsh has a great command of song structure. Her bridges and middle eights are always a delight, while her delicate vocal constantly purrs. What The Real Thing lacks in variation of mood, it scores in intimacy. You listen to music in precisely the manner it’s meant to be heard.

Essential Tracks: “The Real Thing”, “The Wolves”, “The Baker”, and “Snow”.

Christmas being Christmas, you can be forgiven for making the odd list (and perhaps even checking it twice). Cards, presents, food, drink, films on TV, memorable events to include in that annual Christmas letter you are so proud of, relatives to avoid – you name it. So, if you have a list to compile this year, why not turn on the radio for some quality seasonal sounds? You may wind up quickly switching stations because you really don’t want to hear “Santa Claus Is Coming To Town” for the third time today, even if he is dressed like The Boss. You’ve also had quite enough of Justin Bieber murdering “All I Want For Christmas Is You”, so you might hit that dial again. What a treat – the next station is playing Michael Buble’s “Christmas” in full. You love it, but there’s only so much you can take of that descending bass line from Slade’s “Merry Christmas Everybody”.

Still dreaming of a White Christmas? It’s enough to make you want to migrate from this winter wonderland and let Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer take you on a sleigh ride to oblivion. If it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas, there’s no need to remember who sang it (Johnny Mathis… there). Instead, feast your eyes and ears on this collection of 10 Christmas curios that live up to the label of alternative in at least one respect. Chances are you won’t have heard all these tunes before, and checking them out could greatly enrich your life (or at least your holiday). Well, maybe not all of them, though I’m not saying which ones won’t set your pudding alight.

10.  John Prine – “Christmas in Prison”

When you watch this recent live version of John Prine’s song, don’t be put off by the initial redneck laughter or (like the audience) expect a punch line every other rhyme. The singer-songwriter, revered by both Bob Dylan and the late Johnny Cash, is here contemplating Christmas behind bars, separated from his true love, so he ain’t got a lot to joke about. A mixture of tender and quaintly weird sentiments are expressed in the song: “Her heart is as big as this whole goddamn jail / And she’s sweeter than saccharine at a drug store sale.” Like the turkey and pistols carved out of wood that represent prison food, this is hardly standard Christmas fare.

9.  Chris Rea – “Driving Home For Christmas”

This one should be in the mainstream pile, but for some reason it isn’t. All the credentials are there: breezy tune, sing-along chorus, the right buzzwords, sentimental whimsy, and more. The song dates back to 1988, when it charted (just) at No. 53 in the UK singles chart. It did better in Norway the following year, reaching No 2. Twenty years after the Norwegian highpoint, the video to the song you see here was released in aid of the UK homeless charity, Shelter. It is notable for the number of apparently random British “celebrities” it features (who are mostly unrecognizable). How this disparate cast came together one can only speculate. There is an imminent danger of Chris Rea’s song leaving the departure lounge for the singles charts, as a cover is about to be released by UK reality TV star and 2009 X Factor finalist Stacey Solomon. Help!

8.  The Vandals – “My First Christmas (As A Woman)”

At the risk of offending the transgendered community, no list of alternative Christmas songs would be complete without The Vandals’ 1996 celebration of post-op neurosis. Any lyricist who tries to rhyme “breasts” with “best to me” deserves to be heard, and vocalist Dave Quackenbush finds true voice with the immortal lines, “I won’t have to tuck it behind me / Since I got my brand new vagina / It’s my first Christmas as a woman.” If you like the sound of this and can get your mind around the exhortation to “chop it off,” you may be pleased to know that the Southern California punks recorded an entire Christmas themed album, Oi To The World, although only one of the remaining 11 tracks has the word “penis” in its title. Less surprising is that the whole album will take up less than a half-hour of your time.

7.  Jona Lewie -  “Stop The Cavalry”

“Stop The Cavalry” actually charted at No. 3 in December 1980 in the UK, but it qualifies as alternative as, according to its songwriter and performer Jona Lewie, it was not specifically intended to be a Christmas song, but rather an anti-war statement. We hear Lewie’s universal soldier “wish I was at home for Christmas,” but that’s as far as it goes unless you count the bells, chiming keyboards, and brass band accompaniment. Those are all quite Christmassy, although the WWI trench imagery in the video doesn’t quite get you longing to roast chestnuts. Mainstream Christmas songs are dominated by conventional acts, so the unassuming, blues-grounded Lewie qualifies as being a step or two outside. It’s also a great tune.

6. Billy Mack – “Christmas Is All Around Me”

Described as “a festering turd of a record” by aging rocker Billy Mack, played by Bill Nighy in the Christmas movie Love Actually, “Christmas Is All Around Me” is the actor’s seasonal take on The Troggs’ UK classic, “Love Is All Around”. The steaming metaphor applied to the song by Mack isn’t that far off the mark. “Christmas” is hardly a shoe-in for “love,” syllable-wise, and the song only makes the list for Nighy’s stellar performance on film, some amusing set pieces, and of course, his Robert Palmer-modeled backing band. It’s also a good opportunity to remind ourselves that we can all do with a little love and a few tears in our lives. So, feel good once a year, get out the Kleenex and watch Love Actually before Christmas.

5.  Morton Valence – “Christmas In Valence”

“Christmas In Valence” is one of the first songs written by Morton Valence frontman Robert Hacker Jessett, some 20 years back. It was originally lent to Rob Spragg (aka Larry Love) of South London band Alabama 3, who may be more familiar to US readers as A3, and whose song “Woke Up This Morning” accompanies the opening credits of The Sopranos. Spragg changed the lyrics, called it “The Old Purple Tin”, and stuck it on their first album. Jessett decided to revive the original song in time for Christmas, and has just put together this very rough and ready lo-fi recording in his little home studio with fellow Valence vocalist Anne Gilpin. The result is an antidote to those glossy, uplifting Christmas songs, offering a lonesome, plaintive take on the Christmas experience.

4.  Fountains of Wayne – “I Want An Alien for Christmas”

There is something in the chorus to this one that makes you think this might be a raw cut from Barenaked Ladies. Instead, it’s by the gloriously named NYC power popsters Fountains of Wayne. Sadly, there doesn’t seem to be an original video anywhere, but plenty of fan versions are out there, including this amusing effort, especially as the guy playing the alien is the tallest in shot. Silly lyrics abound on the record, particularly ones like, ”He can live in the bathtub, so don’t worry about a thing/And I’ll take him out for walks, when it gets nicer in the spring.” Even better may be, “I want a little green guy about three feet high/With 17 eyes, who knows how to fly.” Well, don’t we all? Santa?

3.  Kate Walsh – “Snow”

Released just two weeks ago, “Snow” is the newest item on this list, and a little pearl in a sea of fake jewels. It’s the perfect blend of contentment and regret, encapsulated in the pure symmetry of the couplet, “Our love is like snow/It covers all we know.” Kate Walsh connects with simple, heartfelt sentiments, delivered with quiet conviction. There are no bells, no marching band, no angelic choir, just a beautiful melody sung with delicate precision and accompanied by deft piano. The ever-modest and independent-minded Walsh would no doubt blush at the thought of a Rage-inspired social media campaign to install her song as the UK Christmas No. 1. Wouldn’t that be great?

2.  The Pogues & Kirsty MacColl – “Fairytale Of New York”

“Fairytale Of New York” dates from 1987, when it became Christmas No. 1 in Ireland, and was only kept off top spot in the UK bizarrely by a non-seasonal song, the Pet Shop Boys’ cover of “Always On My Mind”. In recent years, it has been a regular visitor to the UK Top 40 come Christmas. Despite commercial success, this glorious, rousing duet by Shane MacGowan and Kirsty MacColl to The Pogues’ infectious folk backing remains firmly alternative. Its choice of decidedly unfestive vernacular (“You scumbag, you maggot/You cheap lousy faggot / Happy Christmas your arse/I pray God it’s our last”) as the protagonists sink from seeming “handsome” and “pretty” to trading verbal punches is darkly humorous and richly observed.

1. The Waitresses – “Christmas Wrapping”

This just beats out “Fairytale” as the greatest alternative Christmas song of them all. The 1981 vintage “Christmas Wrapping” is a wonderfully bittersweet song that still delivers a happy ending to befit the season of goodwill. The late Patty Donahue, who fronted The Waitresses with such panache, delivers it as a deadpan semi-rap. Chris Butler’s lyrics shouldn’t fit, but somehow manage to do so. It wasn’t the hit that it should have been, but it has stood the test of time, and surely now qualifies as a bona fide classic Christmas pop song. Sadly, there is no original video, but this one at least provides you with the lyrical ammunition for a proper sing-along. And if you really want to hear whatever happened to The Waitresses, try this.

Twelve months later, her debut album, Heaven, is the end product. All the songs are written by Ferguson, with co-writing credits going to producer Eg White (Adele, Duffy, Will Young), and refreshingly reflect real life rather than the overblown values mostly associated with the show. The album works between fairly narrow lines. It’s all about the voice (as X Factor judge Louis Walsh might say) and Rebecca Ferguson has got it. Her tremulous gospel tones recall an early Aretha Franklin and she exercises a restrained control over both ends of the register that is the mark of a great singer.

The songs are about romance, relationships, aspirations, and what is valuable but with a reality check to them that forgives the occasional cheesy sentiment. Thankfully, like Ferguson’s expert vocal delivery, the arrangements are rooted in Motown and Philadelphia soul rather than the routine stuff that passes for R&B these days. Any temptation to throw in a bit of hip-hop, rap, or whatever, is joyously passed up, and the result is 10 solid songs and very little filler. The opener, “Nothing’s Real But Love”, has a strong chorus and charts what is important in life. “No money, no house, no car can beat love” might seem a simplistic statement but delivered by Ferguson it is heartfelt.

The record is littered with hit single potential, from the glorious “Shoulder To Shoulder”, which pitches love and animosity as inescapable bedfellows, to the Motown drive of “Mr Bright Eyes”, while “Fighting Suspicions” could be a shoe-in as the next Bond theme. This is a mature and polished debut, and if you thought Adele was a decent vocalist, you should listen to this girl.

Essential Tracks: “Nothing’s Real But Love”, “Shoulder To Shoulder”, “Mr Bright Eyes”

There is an ethereal quality to Tonra’s music yet a boldness that is demonstrated by her choice of “Landfill” as the opening song. She took the stage in a bashful shoegaze-y way, alongside her creative sidekick, guitarist Igor Haefeli, with a percussionist at the back of the narrow stage area. The audience was slow to realize the set was almost underway as the protagonists shuffled around amid a sea of cables and effects boxes. Dealing with a tortuous, doomed relationship in a surprisingly stark and candid way, “Landfill” isn’t a natural easy listen but perfectly benchmarked an intimate performance that begs you to hang on every word she sings.

You can certainly hear every syllable in the body of the church, where pillars restrict sight lines at the side. Those upstairs in the narrow three-sided gallery had less good fortune as the sound swirled around and lost clarity in the ether. As the set developed, the music was surprisingly rhythmic, with Haefeli’s resonant shards blending brilliantly with Tonra’s imaginative, picked guitar lines. The drums were sympathetic, adding color and drama with, at one point, her percussionist contributing some bass guitar to his main duties. A one-man rhythm section? Nice work, but it didn’t last as a second musician joined after the third song, a beautiful solo rendition of “The Woods” from Daughter’s debut EP, His Young Heart. The fourth player added bass and keys (at one point aping the drummer by playing both!).

Photo by Lauren Keogh

The songs were largely drawn from Daughter’s two EPs, and each one shone on its own merits. The band sounded surprisingly tight for just their second gig together, and the way the songs built in intensity as they developed tempted a quiet, but appreciative, audience to applaud more strongly after each one. Tonra’s vocal was reliable throughout with an inner strength that supports its more fragile, die away moments. The poetic quality of her lyrics also consistently engaged while her shy between-song chatter charmed.

Her penultimate song, “Home”, grew via strong percussion and chiming guitar to a stirring  wall of sound ending. She completed the set with her own song, the atmospheric “Tomorrow”, skillfully segued with Bon Iver’s “Perth” and Hot Chip’s “Ready for the Floor” in an extended workout that never for a moment flagged and was rapturously received. Daughter should be at the very top of any list of artists to watch in 2012. It was hard not to be seriously impressed by her.

Photography by Lauren Keogh.

Setlist:
Landfill
Run
The Woods
In the Shallows
Love
Youth
Candles
Home
Tomorrow / Perth (Bon Iver cover) / Ready for the Floor (Hot Chip cover)