St Vincent only swears the once during her show at Queen Elizabeth Hall but it's enough to tell me that she's having a bloody good time. Marnie Stern, step aside, because this is how it's done. My first seated show in a few years (the last being Eels in this very venue) is welcome because Annie Clark plays for a-a-a-ges and is all the better for it. From the opening swampiness of Surgeon through the twinkling of Save Me From What I Want, this is a perfect blend of old favourites (a few tracks from Marry Me also appear, making this more satisfying than a National show) and new cuts.
It's difficult to distinguish the best performance in an evening full of superlative moments, but Year of the Tiger swallows the atmospheric closer of Strange Mercy and becomes a wall of sound. The occasional suffocating sensation that accompanies a St Vincent listen is absent, replaced by a feeling of wonderment, awe and sheer joy, with only a shotgun of a kick-drum and a blistering head-shrink of a light show that at times seemed to exist only to induce mild trauma.
Live shows of the modern age don't always live up to the experience of the record (what's cooking, Panda Bear?) but Clark and her troupe are on the top of their game. While it never transcends into a religious experience (although, seeing Death Cab for Cutie a week later proves that isn't a bad thing), there is enough, whoa, rock and roll here to satisfy the die-hards and the people who were dragged along by pals who made them watch the video to Cruel once or twice (as if! Who'd need to be dragged?).
Speaking of Cruel, it's the anecdotes and stories between tracks that make this an experience. Clark's deadpan delivery (as is the case with any hardcore Arrested Development fan) makes the off-kilter nature of the video sound almost whimsical, a flight of fancy, something which this show never is.
It's only Chloe In The Afternoon that still seems to jar, with its lyrics that don't sync to the music, but when the encore opens with the most gorgeous version of The Party you'll ever hear, it's hard to pick fault on something so subjective.
"Why can't we go somewhere else?", Clark cries on an aggressive Marrow. Why would we want to.
