Live Review: krystle warren piers twomey the vanguard

The night started later than expected with a couple of technical glitches and what seemed perhaps to be an elongated eating period, as the clinking and clanking glasses and plates went well past the time support Piers Twomey was expected to take the stage. When the local singer/songwriter and accompaniment did, the earthy indie pop (with Twomey and sweet female vocals from Joy Howard) was well received but unfortunately didn't quite demand the attention it deserved. Partly it was the delay and partly anticipation for the total command we knew headliner Krystle Warren would have and supporting her was always going to be a tough ask.

Indeed, when Krystle Warren bounded onstage she owned the place. A physically unassuming figure, she began with the slow and sweet Love You that built from a basic serenade to include a cute jazzy break. Unlike earlier, you could hear a pin drop (or wine bottle top pop) throughout and it's a command Warren kept, deservedly. The rest of the set was a collection of banter and more jazz meets pop meets soul tunes, allowing those in the room with no prior knowledge to be blown away, while the devoted happily heard their faves peppered with stories of Warren's relative nervousness about flying (“it's sad to have someone go… and cavity searches are scary”) and some terrible, but knowingly so, “doctor doctor” jokes.

Never taking herself too seriously, Warren sat during her particularly solemn I Worry Less because “she's a serious singer/songwriter”, while bouncing around for other “more fun tunes”, peppering her own work with breakout lines from standards like The Look Of Love and A-Tisket, A-Tasket for good measure. She also included a tune with words composed by William Blake (who she happily called “Billy”), called The Clod And The Pebble that combined an old school ornateness with a perfectly paced melody. The soaring vocals and offbeat lyrics of Year End Issue (“All I need is trousers, socks and underwear”) and Arizona, proved, as Warren warned, that, “I can't do half-arsed emotion”. For her encore we were given a choice of Nick Drake or The Beatles and as the latter won, Eleanor Rigby was delivered off mic – and divine.