Love them madly

Free tunes from vocalists who evoke Billie and Sade, music someone paid $1,000 to hear live, and a 99-cent Miles Davis track that's worth every penny.

By Thomas Bartlett

June 9, 2004 | The highpoint of my week was the P.J. Harvey show at the Knitting Factory in New York on Wednesday (see below), but Thursday brought a solid double bill (which almost turned into a sublime triple bill, with the tantalizing possibility of a secret Beth Orton show at Piano's -- but I couldn't get in) of Angela McCluskey and Jolie Holland, both at Joe's Pub. I still feel like there's something a little corny about Holland's shabby-chic retro shtick, but she put on a captivating show. Her singing is oddly instrumental in style -- almost like a great swing violinist or trumpeter -- and her phrasing is dagger sharp and always surprising.

Earlier in the evening was McCluskey, a spectacular singer with an unforgettable Billie Holiday/Janis Joplin scratchy voice. She's an erratic songwriter, but a few of the tracks on her upcoming "The Things We Do," to be released on June 15, are excellent. Expect to see one in this column, if they become available online. Unfortunately, she was backed by a dull, unimaginative rock band that, despite McCluskey's best efforts, doomed the show to mediocrity.

It's always sad to see exceptional vocalists sabotage their music by lazily choosing the most generic accompaniment available. In this, as well in a number of vocal similarities, McCluskey reminded me of Martha Wainwright, Rufus' prodigiously talented younger sister. Wainwright, who doesn't yet have a record out (although I hear she's finally got a recording contract), is, I think, one of the more promising young artists out there, destined to be a star. But she's recently put together a band that contrives to make her music sound like utterly boring adult alternative rock -- which it is not. Time for a producer, Martha.

"Shame" and "It's You," P.J. Harvey, from "Uh Huh Her"
A week ago, I heard P.J. give a spectacular show at the Knitting Factory. The thrill of hearing her incantatory, incandescent music performed in such a small space was marred only by the idiot behind me who kept proclaiming loudly to the girl next to him that there were only two P.J. Harvey songs he liked, and that the concert was really boring him. A word to the wise: Dissing P.J. Harvey isn't a great way of picking up chicks at a P.J. Harvey show. If only the poor, bored fool had known to scalp his ticket on the sidewalk, where they were going for as much as $1,000.

Harvey was in New York in support of her brilliant new album, "Uh Huh Her," released yesterday on Island. "Uh Huh Her" is a stark, minimal album, the polar opposite of 2000's "Stories From the City, Stories From the Sea" and its wall-of-guitar stadium-rock gloss. The record feels like a collection of demos -- not in the usual sense, but in that it often seems as though Harvey is merely demonstrating what notes she plans to sing, what chords she plans to play on the guitar. Even the darkest, most ferocious material here has an eerily subdued quality that makes it all the more powerful. As always with Harvey's music, there is a certain sameness to these songs, particularly harmonically, but the cumulative effect is staggering. "Shame" and "It's You" are my current favorite tracks from the record, but "Uh Huh Her" really should be experienced as a whole. (iTunes, RealPlayer, MusicMatch)

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