With Holly Cook's lovely voice still ringing in my ears, it was back to Camden on Friday for Gina Birch's concert at The Electric Ballroom. It's an infinitely nicer venue than it used to be, much sparklier and airier.
Mike, Gina's partner, was already busy at the merch stall, and much to my surprise my ex-husband's former law college friend Nick was there, now tour managing the whole Gina Birch/Lesley Woods tour.
After a quick chat to Simon Bazalgette (it was one of those 'everybody's here' nights), Lily Wolter (replacing Marie) and Jenny Green appeared on the stage, closely followed by Gina.
There followed a majestic set of songs re-worked to shake off the heavy reverbs of the album track production, refreshed and with entirely new dynamics. I have seen Gina play countless times, and this was definitely the best. She was confident, committed, and in excellent voice despite telling us that her Mum had just hours to live. There was no self-deprecation: just pure, powerful music that had the crowd in raptures. I Play My Bass Loud was especially strong, as were Feminist Song and Live Forever. The whole set was fascinating musically, listening out for what has changed and what has been consolidated: the sound of the night was the closer to Gina's original song demos than it has ever been. Absolutely brilliant. This was the last date of a tour that sounds as though it has probably been one of the most fulfilling periods in Gina's life.
Afterwards, I had a lovely chat about harmonies and other things with Charley Stone, Miki Beryeni, Kat Five, and a quick hello to Jerry Thackray, who I'll catch up with in Brighton when I support Pauline Murray there next month. I missed Lesley's set, although I heard from Gina that the band play really well, which isn't surprising given that they have Estella Adeyeri on bass.
This afternoon's musical offering was entirely different: two community choirs in Brockwell Park in their community greenhouse area. The Dulwich Folk Choir has been put together by Aimée Leonard, an Orcadian woman who collects 'lost' songs and shares them with a non-auditioned, non gender specific choir who clearly love what they do. They were crisp and well rehearsed, and sang so beautifully that the park blackbird couldn't resist joining in. It was a lovely moment. They were followed by The Carnegie Library Hub Choir, whose repertoire was more varied and complex, including South African songs. They sang heartily, even though only half of the regulars were there. Unmediated voices in the sunshine: what an absolute luxury for the ears.
In the garden there were beehives humming with bees, and a greenhouse full of spectacular cacti and succulents, drunk on happiness and wellbeing. Through the opening of a small, high shed, I could see an elderly man of Caribbean heritage proudly arranging scores of small plastic plant pots, a critique on the lack of sustainability in some gardening practices.
We ate nectarine cake and thought it was going to rain (it didn't). I came home with a small tomato plant and a pot of sempervivums to insert into my tiny back yard.
Within two days, I've experienced two musical events at polar opposites of the spectrum of what humans can do with their voices; they were both mesmerising in utterly different ways. What a wonderful world we inhabit, despite the cold cruelty of the people who would like to ruin it for us. It's going to be very hard to vote on Thursday choosing between bad people and bad people and bad people. I would like to vote for the Green Party, but up here they are literally knitted and crocheted, and seem terribly feeble in their crocs. I wish there was a wholesome version of testosterone that could power us into a kinder world where people didn't weaponise religion and heritage and make wars out of it all. If I was God, I'd send all the arms manufacturers and their 'hardware' into deep space in one of Elon's manrockets and tell them not to come home to Earth ever again. But I'm not. I wish I was.
