Isobel Campbell + Mark Lanegan
Shepherds Bush Empire, London - 12 Jun 2008
Jim Merrett
The veritable odd couple
"She’s not the sultry femme fatale a snapshot of her could imply, but then it’s hard to straddle a cello and look cool"
“Sorry, my voice is a bit shit,” Isobel Campbell whimpers a couple of songs in, offering a long-winded explanation involving air travel and air conditioning units. “I beg to differ,” Mark Lanegan rasps. It feels like a crack in the earth has just opened up.She is the cute, kooky cellist from Belle and Sebastian. He has the larynx of Beelzebub. He sings like a straight, sober Tom Waits at 5am or Neil Diamond dragged up a gravel path face down with his mouth open. This battle-scarred grunge veteran is not exactly the fella mums hope their daughters bring home. There were those that raised eyebrows to this partnership, but two albums in and they’re still together. And she still gets top billing, meaning we know who wears the trousers.
There isn’t an obvious spark between them on stage, but Campbell’s scattiness – including a few clumsy trips over her own music stand, leaving her notes flying – suggests there’s something going on. Certainly, she’s not the sultry femme fatale a snapshot of her could imply. But then it’s hard to straddle a cello and look cool. And if there’s one thing Lanegan knows about from his time with Screaming Trees and Queens of the Stone Age, it's chemistry.
Hazy, sometimes countrified, opium den blues seep out, filling the room – the songs are so thick and heady, you can almost see them. For a second it feels like the smoking ban has been lifted. And like the junkies we are, we roll it all around our mouths and inhale.
Newbie ‘Back Burner’ bubbles, with Campbell’s whistling solo greeted with hoots of appreciation from the floor. But it’s the encore when jaws truly tumble – close to hypnotic.
A match made in heaven, hell, or some half-way house, this is one coupling where playing gooseberry leaves the hairs on your skin tingling.
Picture: fotologic
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