Lissie at Heaven
Ramona
Heaven, 1 November 2010
So it's been over a month since I went to my last gig, which is unlike me but October seemed bereft of cool, affordable shows. But thankfully gig oblivion came to a welcome end thanks to the lovely Lissie who was playing the famous Heaven nightclub, handily just outside Charing Cross station.
I must admit I've never been to Heaven before, although I've always been aware of it, due to the fact it has always been more of a famous gay nightclub than a rock venue. In fact as I enter there's posters for their Camp Attack nights and Gay Porn Idol. But of late there's been quite a few rock shows turning up there probably due in part to the closure of the nearby Astoria theatre. Inside though it's smaller than the Astoria (mainly due to the lack of a balcony), with an unusally high stage for a venue of this size, and reminds me more of a town hall for some reason. I can't imagine going clubbing there (well, I can't imagine going clubbing, but you know what I mean) but it certainly wasn't the worst venue I've been to and its location close to the train station made me warm to it immensely.
But on to the most important thing: the music and, firstly, the support act Ramona. As far as I know Ramona, a female-fronted band from Brighton, don't have any records out yet but already they've developed the swagger of a much bigger rock group, with the boys in the band emerging first allowing their singer, Karen Anne, to make a grand entrance. Extremely skinny, blue eye-shadowed, wearing a denim mini skirt and blonde hair complete with dark roots, it's pretty clear that she's got the entire Blondie back catalogue on her iPod. If this were in any doubt it's put to rest as soon as she opens her mouth and you can just hear her channelling Debbie Harry with all her might. Not surprisingly, just like Blondie, the music is a fun mix of pop, punk and rock, and they also bring to mind, not just because of the female frontperson playing a telecaster link, The Pretenders, especially with some of their more anthemic potential-big-singalong moments. But, you know, hardly anything is original any more and they are hugely fun to watch and their songs undeniably catchy, especially the Springsteen-eqsue Steve McQueen (inspired by his cock, or so Karen Anne tells us). They're on for barely 25 minutes but I find myself thoroughly enjoying every minute of it and sad when they finally take their leave.
When Lissie emerges not long after she looks exactly as I expect her to: fresh-faced, makeupless and tanned wearing the simple, unpretentious get-up of white t-shirt and jeans, with half her blonde sun-bleached hair gathered in a messy plait. Although she's from Illinois she looks every bit the Californian surfer chick that the Beach Boys sang about and the music is equally sunny, an updated, 21st century version of the Laurel Canyon sound.
Starting out with a slow, soulful and yearning version of Hank Williams' Wedding Bells (already she's won my heart covering Hank), she soon launches into more upbeat fare such as When I'm Alone, Cuckoo and Record Collector, from her fantastic debut album Catching A Tiger. There's no getting round it, she does have that husky-toned touch of Stevie Nicks to her voice and it comes out especially on slower tracks such as Everywhere I Go, but this is certainly no bad thing and, while reminscent, her voice is still uniquely her own.
I guess people could call her a hipper Sheryl Crow (although I like Crow, so I don't think that's the diss others would), I think she's far more than that, she's bringing that old country rock, west coast sound and freshening it up with her own stamp on things. This is particularly evident on the live version of Little Lovin', a hugely fun stomp, which becomes more of a bluesy country hoe-down in concert, rawer and way more attention grabbing than on record. In Missippissi becomes a haunting gospel-infused prayer, while In Sleep gets a rockier makeover complete with a storming end solo by guitarist Eric.
She's also completely charming on stage, beaming through each song and telling stories of perseverance and her childhood and bantering with the audience. At most gigs, she tells us, she's been letting the audience choose what cover version they should end the show with but since it's the end of the UK tour and they are playing Heaven, they decide it would be appropriate to play Stairway To Heaven, Led Zeppelin's classic over-played epic. This seems a very dodgy and cheesy choice but somehow they manage to pull it off all the way through to it's roaring, screaming finale, Lissie pumping the air in true rock goddess style as she reaches for the notes few but Robert Plant can pull off. And, by God, she does it and she does it good. Damn, the girl can sing and what a treat it is to be a witness to it so early on in her career, because there's no doubt about it, Lissie is going places.
I must admit I've never been to Heaven before, although I've always been aware of it, due to the fact it has always been more of a famous gay nightclub than a rock venue. In fact as I enter there's posters for their Camp Attack nights and Gay Porn Idol. But of late there's been quite a few rock shows turning up there probably due in part to the closure of the nearby Astoria theatre. Inside though it's smaller than the Astoria (mainly due to the lack of a balcony), with an unusally high stage for a venue of this size, and reminds me more of a town hall for some reason. I can't imagine going clubbing there (well, I can't imagine going clubbing, but you know what I mean) but it certainly wasn't the worst venue I've been to and its location close to the train station made me warm to it immensely.
But on to the most important thing: the music and, firstly, the support act Ramona. As far as I know Ramona, a female-fronted band from Brighton, don't have any records out yet but already they've developed the swagger of a much bigger rock group, with the boys in the band emerging first allowing their singer, Karen Anne, to make a grand entrance. Extremely skinny, blue eye-shadowed, wearing a denim mini skirt and blonde hair complete with dark roots, it's pretty clear that she's got the entire Blondie back catalogue on her iPod. If this were in any doubt it's put to rest as soon as she opens her mouth and you can just hear her channelling Debbie Harry with all her might. Not surprisingly, just like Blondie, the music is a fun mix of pop, punk and rock, and they also bring to mind, not just because of the female frontperson playing a telecaster link, The Pretenders, especially with some of their more anthemic potential-big-singalong moments. But, you know, hardly anything is original any more and they are hugely fun to watch and their songs undeniably catchy, especially the Springsteen-eqsue Steve McQueen (inspired by his cock, or so Karen Anne tells us). They're on for barely 25 minutes but I find myself thoroughly enjoying every minute of it and sad when they finally take their leave.
When Lissie emerges not long after she looks exactly as I expect her to: fresh-faced, makeupless and tanned wearing the simple, unpretentious get-up of white t-shirt and jeans, with half her blonde sun-bleached hair gathered in a messy plait. Although she's from Illinois she looks every bit the Californian surfer chick that the Beach Boys sang about and the music is equally sunny, an updated, 21st century version of the Laurel Canyon sound.
Starting out with a slow, soulful and yearning version of Hank Williams' Wedding Bells (already she's won my heart covering Hank), she soon launches into more upbeat fare such as When I'm Alone, Cuckoo and Record Collector, from her fantastic debut album Catching A Tiger. There's no getting round it, she does have that husky-toned touch of Stevie Nicks to her voice and it comes out especially on slower tracks such as Everywhere I Go, but this is certainly no bad thing and, while reminscent, her voice is still uniquely her own.
I guess people could call her a hipper Sheryl Crow (although I like Crow, so I don't think that's the diss others would), I think she's far more than that, she's bringing that old country rock, west coast sound and freshening it up with her own stamp on things. This is particularly evident on the live version of Little Lovin', a hugely fun stomp, which becomes more of a bluesy country hoe-down in concert, rawer and way more attention grabbing than on record. In Missippissi becomes a haunting gospel-infused prayer, while In Sleep gets a rockier makeover complete with a storming end solo by guitarist Eric.
She's also completely charming on stage, beaming through each song and telling stories of perseverance and her childhood and bantering with the audience. At most gigs, she tells us, she's been letting the audience choose what cover version they should end the show with but since it's the end of the UK tour and they are playing Heaven, they decide it would be appropriate to play Stairway To Heaven, Led Zeppelin's classic over-played epic. This seems a very dodgy and cheesy choice but somehow they manage to pull it off all the way through to it's roaring, screaming finale, Lissie pumping the air in true rock goddess style as she reaches for the notes few but Robert Plant can pull off. And, by God, she does it and she does it good. Damn, the girl can sing and what a treat it is to be a witness to it so early on in her career, because there's no doubt about it, Lissie is going places.
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