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.

Kate Walsh is a true individual. A girl who wants to do things her way and generally does. She has enviable qualities as a singer with a rare and delicate timbre to her voice, an engaging songwriter, and not least an accomplished guitarist and pianist. Walsh had only just celebrated her 20th birthday when her debut album, Clocktower Park, came out in 2003 on the independent UK label Kitchenware, home to the likes of Prefab Sprout and Editors. The singer then achieved a certain degree of fame after her self-published and promoted follow-up record, Tim’s House, topped the UK iTunes album chart in March 2007.

This success sparked a bout of media frenzy that resulted in major labels forming a disorderly queue for her signature. Universal barged their way to the front, and Kate Walsh duly found herself on Mercury Records with a budget to make her third album. Sticking to her principles, Walsh retained the services of local Tim’s House producer Tim Bidwell, and Light And Dark was duly delivered in August 2009. By this time, Mercury had decided that their promo budget would be better spent on Pixie Lott, and Walsh was back on her own label. This potted history takes us to 2010, and Kate Walsh has just delivered a fourth album, Peppermint Radio. Yet once again there is a twist. Rather than a selection of Walsh’s own delightful songs, the collection is a bold set of covers.

Consequence of Sound meets up with Kate Walsh as she is getting ready to spend a first Christmas in her new home in her adopted town of Brighton, on the English south coast. The singer is dressed for the British winter but confesses that her boots let in water as we hit a sudden downpour while heading for lunch at the homely Bill’s Café. The eatery is a bit like being in Kate’s kitchen but on a bigger scale, and so a perfect place to share some home truths. A look back on 2010 seems to be a good starting point.

“Yes it’s been a busy touring year. I’ve supported Paolo Nutini, Turin Brakes, Mark Knopfler and have just finished my own headline tour,” Walsh muses, dropping the names in a matter-of-fact fashion. The singer confesses to being more comfortable in small, intimate venues but recognizes the experience gained from playing on a big stage. “We had 17,000 people at Nimes (Arena in France) for Mark’s gig. Amazing, but way too big for me. There’s no sense of relationship with the audience.” In contrast, six nights at London’s Royal Albert Hall with the ex-Dire Straits man and a mere 5,000 people a night worked for her. “Ah, the Albert Hall was magical. You can’t see anyone from the stage, but you sense the atmosphere all around you. It’s like standing on the edge of a cliff in the middle of the night, knowing the sea is below though you can’t see it.”

Walsh’s manager, Jonathan Morley, has been a dab hand at placing her on some prestigious tours. On this occasion, Walsh was handpicked for Mark Knopfler’s UK and French gigs on the strength of how she and her gifted sidekick, cello player Jo Whippy, played in a single live performance. She acknowledges her reliance on her driven and focused manager. “Sometimes I think I don’t want it enough. My career is a by-product of being able to write songs and being blessed with a nice voice,” she explains in her customary modest way. She clearly isn’t in this for the fame, and there’s a sense of her happily settling for a comfortable lifestyle. Walsh has experienced quite different sides of the music industry in her short career to date. The question of whether she is happier back again as an independent artist, compared to when she was with a major label, seems to answer itself.

“The 2007 iTunes thing was a mad time. Everyone wanted the story, but the real pride and pleasure came from the record [Tim’s House] being a totally DIY success.” Finding herself on the industry conveyor belt was a mixed experience, and there was a sense that her label didn’t quite know what to do with her, though she is quick to say that her personal A&R was really supportive throughout. There was no pressure for her to dress provocatively or act out a rock and roll lifestyle, but the lack of direction maybe showed through in her being over-styled conversely as a rather twee princess: all Chinese silk, pastels, and hair clips.

As an artist now very much in control of her own career and clearly from preference, I wonder if she misses anything about being signed, other than perhaps the money? “I can rack my brains to think of something, but I really don’t think there’s anything I miss. Obviously the big major labels have the clout you need to be seen and heard, but it’s not necessarily used in the right way or for the right reasons. Being indie, and based on the resources available right now, my promotion is largely word-of-mouth, which suits me fine as it means people are enjoying the music enough to want to tell their friends about it rather than having it rammed down their throats. This process obviously means it takes much longer for your music to be heard, but I believe it’s the best way of ensuring a long career.”

Walsh built up a strong fan base in her early years through MySpace especially, despite her techno-phobe assertions. It’s clear that her fans are dear to her. “I wouldn’t be where I am now without my fans. They enable me to keep touring and inspire me to keep writing. I hear such wonderful things from people who take the time and the trouble to tell me what my music means to them. It’s easy to forget that once a song is written, recorded, and ‘out there,’ it takes on a whole new life of its own. I have to be honest in saying that I’m pretty rubbish at the whole Twitter/Facebook/MySpace thing. I’m just not really very inspired to sit in front of a computer screen, but almost the whole music industry hangs on digital media these days, and I really must try to get to grips with it all.”

Turning to her latest release, Peppermint Radio, Walsh admits that she was almost prepared for a slating but has been nicely surprised by the mostly positive reaction.  The covers album was conceived as she began to feel more content with life and less wont to dip into the well of past heartache for material. Rather this was a chance to pay some dues to a selection of artists and songs that she had grown up with and took inspiration from.  Her intention was to show respect for the songs by not trying to mimic the original versions but putting her own pared down stamp on them. The result is a calming experience, which leaves a warm, soft feeling inside — like having a cup of herbal tea at home.

The sleeve notes to Peppermint Radio hint at how her songwriting muse is moving slowly from a therapeutic role to one where she’s writing for the simple love of it. In a way, this album provides a bridge to just that. She admits to getting over “we are not worthy” feelings when first contemplating a Radiohead song (“Subterranean Homesick Alien”). She is equally proud of the less well-known tracks, Turin Brakes’ “Feeling Oblivion” and “Monochrome” by The Sundays. Other songs mirror her own experiences or simply transport her back to the days of growing up with her mum, dad, and two brothers. By stripping away the production, slowing down the tempo yet retaining some hooks, her interpretations leave enough of the songs to aid recognition but ensure her personal stamp is left. Moreover, you can hear every syllable of the lyrics, and their meanings resonate all the more for it.

So where does the covers album leave Kate Walsh as far as future plans are concerned? She says she is now able to write songs when in a happy place, not just when looking back on the heartache of past relationships. “This last year has been quite life-changing, and my whole focus has shifted from self-pitying to being hopeful about the future. It’s all still work in progress, but I’m learning to tap into another stream of my emotions and turn it into something creative. And you’ll just have to wait to hear the new songs to know what I mean!”

The singer admits that plans for 2011 are still on the drawing board but seeds are being sown. Through her publishing company, she has started some co-writing for the first time, which she is finding “interesting, though it’s early days.” She’s aiming to take a break from touring to work on a new record, trying “something a little different next year” as the singer rather coyly puts it. She sees herself in music for the long haul but has an unfulfilled ambition that is characteristic of her approach in life. “I’d really love to get more involved with music therapy in the future. I’ve been fortunate enough to help out with some community music projects this year, and it’s something I feel passionate about. Music has been used to heal since the year dot, but we seem to have lost that sharing aspect of it along the way. It’s such a reward to give music as a gift that can help change someone’s life.”

Meanwhile, we can all share the gift that Kate Walsh brings to contemporary music through her beautiful original songs and her fascinatingly personal take on classic British music.

The collection of eleven songs spans 20 years from the early ’80s to the turn of the millennium. It stretches from Duran Duran’s “Save A Prayer” from the album Rio to “Feeling Oblivion” by Turin Brakes which creeps into the new century. Olly Knights, one half of Turn Brakes, has sung with Walsh live and on record. The record is in a way a radio broadcast in itself highlighting individual British artistes who have left their mark on Kate Walsh; a snapshot of her musical development, you could say. The album title honours an imaginary station Walsh pretended she worked for as a child, using her sewing machine in lieu of a mixing deck. The charm encapsulated in that very notion pervades this record from start to finish.

Peppermint Radio concludes a project begun in between recording her last self-penned album, Light And Dark, and touring, during which she released two EPs featuring a selection of these songs. The response to her inimitable take on chiefly classic songs provided the impetus to commit them to a complete album, opening with “Subterranean Homesick Alien”, one of a handful here that hardly requires an introduction. The Radiohead classic from OK Computer is given a melodramatic yet warm treatment with interweaving piano and cello, highlighted by Walsh’s sweet, wispy vocal, double-tracked here and there to great effect. The combination accents the Beatles-ish melody lines, which recall “Lucy In The Sky”.

Walsh’s regular producer, Tim Bidwell, brings a near-telepathic touch to the subtle arrangements that compliment her vocals without him ever taking the reins fully. At times things are pared down to a simple piano accompaniment, with a burst of mournful strings as on “Unbelievable”. This was a US No 1 Billboard hit in 1991 for British band EMF, but that takes some decoding from Walsh’s version. Similarly “Beetlebum” by Britpopers, Blur, is a surprisingly choice but Walsh’s take on the song works and the unique quality of her voice makes you ponder every word. Her treatment of “Move Any Mountain”, reworked as a tender piano ballad that sounds like Walsh wrote the song herself, is light years from The Shamen’s original dance anthem.

For quite different reasons, The Cure’s “Lullaby”, “Who’s That Girl” (the Eurythmics song, not Madonna’s) and Duran Duran’s “Save A Prayer” all sail closer to their earlier shores. Walsh and Bidwell add skilful individual touches to each to ensure the songs are not worked as straight covers. “Lullaby” succeeds especially well with Walsh’s breathy, sometimes whispered vocal bringing a rare, almost childlike intimacy while Bidwell adds some unexpected accordion and carefully chosen sound effects to the mix.

Kate Walsh’s ability to feel and breath every word, almost like her voice is an instrument in itself shines throughout this album. It’s hard to pick highlights as everything here is so finely crafted but I fell in love with her interpretations of the Prefab Sprout classic from Steve McQueen, “When Love Breaks Down” and Erasure’s “A Little Respect”. The former talks of how working hard to achieve something great is detrimental to relationships and Walsh voices those sentiments as a shared experience, making them real and believable. The Erasure song gets a beautifully tender treatment, a million miles from its hi-energy roots, and the way Walsh’s voice dies away at the end of some words adds a genuinely heartfelt touch.

The final two songs on the album are less well known but fit this collection perfectly and bring the tempo up a notch or two. Both are great songs in their own right and are not overshadowed by their bedfellows. “Feeling Oblivion” ebbs and flows in country fashion and is hallmarked by a characteristically sweet Kate Walsh delivery. The singer serves a more upfront vocal on “Monochrome” by The Sundays, straying into Joni Mitchell territory but retaining her own stamp and showcasing her vocal range, effortlessly through the register.

Taken as a whole, there is a sense that Kate Walsh is searching for the next step in her life with this record. Despite the hype that accompanied her becoming Britain’s only unsigned artiste to achieve a No 1 album on iTunes in 2007, her career has not developed along mainstream lines and she remains an enigma; proudly independent without compromise. Whatever the future holds though, Kate Walsh has unwrapped a jewel in Peppermint Radio.

The Hall’s imposing exterior is matched by its richly decorated red and gold interior, and crowned by a domed stained-glass skylight. It fulfils its remit as a multipurpose building by hosting all kinds of live music as well as exhibitions, public meetings, scientific symposiums, award ceremonies and even shows from the likes of Cirque du Soleil. For the past week it has been home to ex-Dire Straits guitar hero, Mark Knopfler and his band of seriously good musicians. Now turned 60, Knopfler might be excused for sitting down for virtually all the performance. But this is no ordinary repose but an ergonomic swivel chair, designed to aid recovery from a trapped nerve in the back that the artiste suffered a while ago. Though he has since had a clean bill of health, Knopfler clearly has taken to the chair so much, he’s decided to stick with it. A case of “Money for Sitting”?

So to the gig itself. Most seats were taken when support Kate Walsh took the stage, accompanied by cellist, the deliciously named Jo Whippy. Walsh is among the cream of British singer-songwriters without necessarily the profile of some of her more hyped contemporaries. Her exquisite voice was as comfortable in this relatively vast arena as it is in an intimate club room, soaring and wavering, hitting high and low notes with ease, yet at all times retaining an edge and vulnerability. Her skilled guitar and piano work enhanced by the interweaving cello allowed the songs to shine through. Starting with the sheer warmth of “The Seafarer” from her last album, Light And Dark, Walsh hit the heights with the achingly sad title track from that record and a beautifully understated version of “A Little Respect” by Erasure. Her six-song set was over too soon and generously received by an audience who largely will have been sampling Kate Walsh for the first time. We can only hope they come back for more. If you ever wanted evidence of the power of live music to move you and take you to pretty much anywhere you might like to go, then here it was.

It’s hard to believe but it’s 15 years since Dire Straits called it a day, since when main man Mark Knopfler has released a string of solo albums, penned soundtracks and collaborated here there and everywhere. The guitarist pitched up with an eight-piece band and a change of guitar – in one case, two – for virtually every song. His swivel chair position allowed him to survey the stage and turn to cue various members of the band, not that these mostly seasoned pros really required any tutoring.  The set kicked off with “Border Reiver”, the opening missive from his autumn 2009 release, Get Lucky. It was a fairly safe bet as the song set the tone for much of the set, Knopfler’s newer stuff contemplating the lives and times of itinerants, musically imbued with a Celtic air that touched at times on the melancholic.

The opener was followed by two from Knopfler’s second solo effort, Sailing To Philadelphia, “What It Is” and then the title track, highlighted by a lyrical beginning and long eloquent end solo. Despite a great overall sound balance, which allowed the interplay between electric and acoustic instruments to weave some magical stuff, Knopfler’s lazy drawl was less distinct than it might have been. “Coyote”, from the artiste’s third solo album, The Ragpicker’s Dream, signalled a change in pace. Bassist, Glenn Worf, switched from electric to double bass, to drive the song along a dark, dirty swamp rock path. The mood switched back to a quieter, more contemplative vibe with “Prairie Wedding”, heralded by a gentle insistent guitar theme and decorated with rich, deep vocals from Knopfler, before rockier times returned with “Hill Farmer’s Blues”.

Getting on for halfway through the set, it seemed that everything had been played immaculately and was being well received by a patient audience, though nothing had quite set the place a-buzz. Glancing upwards, you suddenly become aware of the huge sound panels arcing from the ceiling like clusters of giant mushrooms. The reverie was interrupted as Knopfler picked out the opening notes of “Romeo And Juliet” from Making Movies and the first Dire Straits number of the night made the audience come alive. The vocals are also that bit clearer when you know all the words. Knopfler even swapped guitars before finishing the song with a short burst of electric.

If that song went down well, it was nothing compared to the reaction given to “Sultans Of Swing” from Dire Straits first self-titled album. This one gets a standing ovation and was played with passion by a band stripped down to two guitars, bass and drums, with all of Mark Knopfler’s trademark licks in tact. The guitarist was recently quoted on his reaction when audiences ask for the old stuff: “The thing about the old Straits songs is that they are signposts for people’s lives. Obviously I’ll play them differently here and there to keep it alive and meaningful to me, and away from a cabaret thing. But there are times, like the twiddly bits at the end of “Sultans”, that if you don’t do your twiddly bits, the world’s not right for people. I like playing the old songs, I wrote them and people like to hear them, it’s as simple as that.” It seemed that this particular audience couldn’t agree more.

Two songs from the solo years followed. “Done With Bonaparte” from Golden Heart was memorable for Michael McGoldrick’s sweetly resonant accompaniment on the Uileann pipes and “Marbletown” from The Ragpicker’s Dream, an acoustic country blues song with a particularly extended folksy coda. The impressive title track from Knopfler’s latest record, “Get Lucky”, then got its airing, gently building from a soft acoustic opening into waves of Celtic flute and mandolin. The pure country of “Speedway At Nazareth” then developed from a rootsy start to full blown rock, during which Knopfler finally stood up for the job.

The main set drew to a close with the episodic Dire Straits opus, “Telegraph Road”, from Love Over Gold. From a simple flute opening, this near symphonic epic was delivered masterfully with successive calms before the storm of an ending. The band took lengthy, good-humoured bows and remained on stage as beers were brought on and fans breezed, rather than surged, towards the stage. There was no need for the band ritual of going off and coming back on. This was more like a party down the village hall, albeit a rather grand one. The encore you might have bet on, “Brother In Arms”, followed together with “So Far Away” from that same million selling album. Both were delivered with the same love and care as the previous 13 tunes.

“Piper to the End” closed the show. The final track on Get Lucky, the song is a lament dedicated to Knopfler’s late uncle who was killed in action in World World II. The melody bows to that of “Wild Mountain Thyme”, itself a hybrid of a much earlier song from the late 18th century, “The Braes of Balquhidder”. Knopfler’s take has a universality of theme and provides a fitting end to an evening of controlled emotion and exemplary playing. Mark Knopfler has been there, done that in spades, got the walk-in wardrobe as well as the t-shirt and can now express himself more eloquently than almost any elder statesman of rock you might care to list. It was a pleasure to see him at work.

Set List: Kate Walsh
The Seafarer
Tonight
Unbelievable
Light And Dark
A Little Respect
Your Song

Set List: Mark Knopfler
Border Reiver
What It Is
Sailing To Philadelphia
Coyote
Prairie Wedding
Hill Farmer’s Blues
Romeo And Juliet
Sultans Of Swing
Done With Bonaparte
Marbletown
Get Lucky
Speedway At Nazareth
Telegraph Road

Encores:
Brothers In Arms
So Far Away
Piper To The End

The young British singer-songwriter has an interesting history by anyone’s standards. Walsh was only 20 when she released her first record, Clocktower Park, on the independent UK label, Kitchenware. Then, unsigned for four years, she recorded and released the follow-up, Tim’s House. The self-released album reached an unlikely No. 1 on iTunes, turning Walsh into a media darling at home. Snapped up by a major and then strangely dropped, she emerges in 2009 with Light & Dark, on her homespun Blueberry Pie label.

Walsh could have kissed a girl, or stepped into little boots, but she hasn’t. Walsh has little to worry about. She has a genuine point of difference to many of her contemporaries; simply put, she refuses to compromise her music to the whims of fad and fashion. It has a timeless quality, which will allow her music to sound fresh in the years to come. It also helps having a voice to die for, being able to write gloriously moving songs, and making real connections with your audience.

The new album continues the sparkle of Tim’s House with the singer’s achingly beautiful voice and exquisite melodies, both given more expansive, yet still sensitive treatments by producer, Tim Bidwell. Walsh’s lyrics are heartfelt and precious, delivered with her heart on her sleeve. You might criticize the preponderance of lost loves, but who could fail to be moved by the stripped-bare poignancy of the title song, “Light & Dark”, or marvel at her ability to voice such painful recollections? The overall package is hallmarked with innocence and charm, tempered by the pain of worldly experience.

This album has real variety and form. The opener “As He Pleases” sets the tone as a gently embellished melody, which ebbs and flows deceptively while Walsh tries to rationalize two sides of a doomed relationship. Then, you find radio-friendly songs like the breezy “Trying” and the country-flavored “June Last Year” alongside plaintiff laments like “Greatest Love”, where she is joined by Olly Knights of Turin Breaks who provides rustic-tinged harmonies. Shafts of light break through the darker reflections so the comforting and intimate warmth of “Seafarer” and the optimism of “Be Mine” can balance the chilling poetic fancy of the sparse “I Cling on for Dear Life”.

It’s clear Walsh is exorcising past ghosts in many of these songs, yet she manages to sound sweet when bitter, and confuses the territory between good and bad experiences. Her vocal delivery is, at times, astonishing, and in live performances she has developed the rare ability to make an audience fall so silent that the proverbial pin would resonate. She exudes such vulnerability, that as a man you’d like to be her brother as much as her lover. She is unassuming yet enthralling.

One of the brightest, though not best known stars to have emerged from a plethora of UK singer-songwriters in recent years, Walsh should increase her standing through Light & Dark. It’s an album to love and cherish. Falling in and out of love may be the recurring themes, but the trick still remains in the story telling.

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Light & Dark

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Light & Dark