But as soon as a song starts, or more accurately as soon as Case begins to sing, all is forgiven and until the end of the song there is nothing there but the music.
The latest album for Neko Case, The Worse Things Get, The Harder I Fight, The Harder I Fight, The More I Love You, came after an extended bout of depression, and saw Case exploring much more personal territory than she'd previously touched. Tonight's tour draws heavily on that release, and while the banter between songs is friendly and upbeat, the songs themselves are aching: plaintive and bruised.
Case has surrounded herself with exceptional musicians (when Eric Bachmann of Archers Of Loaf is quietly on guitar and back-up vocals in the shadows, it's probably an impressive group), and multi-instrumentalist Jon Rauhouse draws particular focus as he provides the dominant melodies of the songs. His turn on trombone gets special mention from Case, and his Hawaiian pedal steel during Night Still Comes threatens to steal the show. Even during the less showy moments the band is strong and well mixed, complementing Case's remarkable voice as it rises effortlessly above the mix.
Songs are drawn from throughout her career, but there's a warm alt-country tone that lies over the set tonight and ties well over a decade of music into a single coherent sound. Man, the single from the new album and sole exception to that rule, ramps the energy up at the end of the set, and receives probably the biggest cheers of the night, but it's during the quieter, more intimate moments that Case is the most impressive. The a cappella of Nearly Midnight, Honolulu is soaring, and with the vocals on show, it's easier to hear just how much Kelly Hogan, Case's back-up singer since 1998, adds to the tracks. And stripped-back versions of a pair of older, more melancholic and emotive songs, I Wish I Was the Moon and Set Out Running, provide the set's highlights.
Case seems tired and somewhat disinterested in proceedings for much of the show, leaving most of the banter to Hogan, and the somewhat interminable retuning between songs leaves even the witty Hogan grasping for words at times. But as soon as a song starts, or more accurately as soon as Case begins to sing, all is forgiven and until the end of the song there is nothing there but the music.