Katie Spencer – The Temperance, Leamington – 20th September 2024
a formative influence
Katie Spencer has form with John Martyn, a not so distant release being an EP of songs by the troubled troubadour. That, Hurt In Your Heart: The Music Of John Martyn, saw the young East Yorkshire guitarist team up with Spencer Cozens and Alan Thomson, veterans both of Martyn’s later touring and studio bands, for three of his songs.
Spencer has never made a secret of the formative influence the late singer had on her teenage self, as she was finding her voice and an adept way about a guitar; most live shows feature at least one song by him. Tonight was to be a little different, as they would feature a little more prominently, if not at the expense of her own, she having shown herself to be a sensitively strong writer herself, with a clear emotive heft in her phrasing, and a voice that can cut across any background chatter. And, for a couple of shows only, tonight, and another at the Green Hotel Kinross on 28th September, she was/is to be hooking up again with Thomson, his fretless bass to complement her guitar.
the temperance – cosy and thriving
The Temperance is one of those venues that just makes you blink. Cosy isn’t the half of it, this basement to a coffee shop can sit barely fifty souls. All wood and shadows, black is the predominant colour, with rows of surprisingly comfy seats, with higher stools, to perch upon, around the edges. With a few pictures and some African masks as decoration, it is all Victorian gentleman’s study, the stage a small carpeted area at the front, a resplendent banner hung at the back, lest you forget where you are.
It appears to be thriving, and I hope it is, with music near every night of the week, with, often, acts who could sell it out fourfold, but still keep coming. And, despite the name, there is strong drink, should it be required, purchased from the coffee shop upstairs, it containing a fridge well stocked with local ales and ciders.
a glorious glorybox
The early seven thirty prompt start not enough to unsettle the regulars and the forewarned, this sold out show was a mix of those attracted by the lure of the Glaswegian and those already familiar with Ms. Spencer, together with a fair few just plain curious and interested.
Regardless, even I was taken aback by the opening song, cutting straight to the chase, with an astonishing rendition of Glorybox. Yes, that one, the Portishead ‘hit’, but also a song covered by Martyn on his mercurial covers album, The Church With One Bell. With it taking a moment to actually sink in what song it was she was singing, the effect on the room was astounding, all concentration on the singer, as she winced out the words with her heart and soul rending, as she moaned the lyric. Her fingers flying and apicking got then secondary attention, the vibrant runs plucked out by Thomson on his bass a third. Many have their favourite version of this oft covered song. I now have mine.
covert confessionals
Moving on to perform a couple of her own songs, having seen her play at New Forest Folk Festival, I was struck by the difference this intimate setting gave to her. What had seemed merely(!) effective and efficient songcraft became transformed into covert confessionals, her voice and hands conspiring into a concoction of an extraordinary magnetism. Having the sinuous bass notes rippling about her did, clearly, no harm at all, either.
The title track of her last album, The Edge Of The Land, had the audience pining for Hull and the East Coast, an idea even she found difficult to swallow. (Hull, from where she hails, got many a deprecating comment from her, if insufficient to damage the clear love she has for this much maligned metropolis.) An utterly gorgeous I Don’t Want To Know About Love Followed, at once reminding quite how beautiful a song it is, and how consummate an interpreter of it she is.
A couple more of her own songs followed and a switch to her glorious Gibson archtop guitar. Avoiding the error of calling this 1952 model ‘very old’, something that had caused gasps at an earlier show, her obvious youth was certainly a contrast with the (largely) mature audience here tonight. (Note for pedants: had he lived, John Martyn would be four years older than her guitar, but Alan Thomson is a full eight years younger.) It being a Martyn night, clearly she had to show off her skills on the pedals available at her feet, ending the first half with a gorgeous echoplex drenched Small Heart, the shimmers of sound reverberating like a heat haze. A mirage in sound and utterly fabulous.
a sign of things to come
A short gap to water and wet, the audience fell swiftly back into rapt attention as the duo pressed on. Again, songs of her own were as much to the fore as those of her spiritual mentor, with a new song giving some idea of what is yet to come from this talented musician.
We also got Shannon Road, her stream of consciousness ruminations around the road of that name, and the house there where her grandmother lived, with all the memories stored there. A brace of Martyns came in the form of an exquisite reprise of the title track from the Spencer/Thomson/Cozens EP, and the early John The Baptist, from his ‘and Beverley Martyn’ days. Spencer was able to quip that the former was at least one song the duo had played together ahead of this concert. (I later overheard Thomson revealing he had prepared for tonight by playing to the CDs he had been sent, by her, in the post; such was his expertise, both actually, that you could never have guessed that.)
a joining of generations
Winding down, a further demonstration of echoplex effects came, adorning a song of her own, showing it fitted as well around her signature Sands acoustic guitar as her chunkier Gibson semi. Two songs, each from her, she promised, forthcoming, and the two bade their farewell. But, with nowhere to go, stay they had to, ahead the encore, already prepped and on the running order. The affection between the two players was obvious, two generations joined by their shared love and knowledge of the maverick musician, and their Couldn’t Love You More was a delight. This was as much Thomson’s rendition as Spencers, courtesy the fluid runs he wreaked out his instrument. A splendid end to a splendid evening. I’ll come here again!
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