It is worth remembering your first experience of a music club. Mine was about 20 years ago, and the Soho club named after a Van Morrison song is now long defunct. There is a possessed vocalist of an electronic trio screaming something about wooden toys. There is an indie band I came to see creating such an ungodly racket that I can hardly tell the drums from the bass guitar. I walk out of the club late at night, bruised and traumatised, gasping for air. A first experience like that was bound to haunt me again and again... Which is why there would be greatness and great beauty, but mostly there would be an atmosphere of restlessness and distortion. Chaos, basically.
With PJ Harvey, it is different from the very beginning. First, there is no random playlist before the concert, featuring "Sweet Child Of Mine" and "Stayin' Alive". Instead, there is that subtle crackling sound meant to create a mood. Second, the moment she enters the stage everything else shrivels and dies and a certain chamber atmosphere is established in the club. It will be sustained until the end, regardless of whether she will be playing "Dress", "White Chalk" or something from her latest album.
Each song is like a theatrical performance. She does a pantomime, she moves around the stage with dignity and precision, and I am in tears before she even starts singing. The set is divided into two parts. Part one is the first album in its entirety, with songs separated by the sounds of birds chirping, branches crackling, bells chiming and children screaming in the distance. Also, there is Polly walking to different parts of the stage, looking pensively, staring intently, getting into the mood of the next song. A lot of thought went into this show, and it pays off: the album comes alive in the chamber atmosphere of Palladium, gains in weight and loses none of its unnerving beauty and uneasy dreaminess. Her vocals are powerful, and even the quieter songs exude great charisma.
Then there is a brief intermission when the other band members do an effective rendition of "The Colour of the Earth" (with the claps so irresistible the audience joins in). Following that, there are the jingoistic horns and the strumming rush of "The Glorious Land" which is one of the most emotional moments of the already emotional show. "Angelene", "Man-Size", "To Bring You My Love" - with a catalogue as vast and diverse as that, choosing what to play could not be easy. Oddly, there is nothing from the acclaimed Stories From The City, Stories From The Sea... But since to me that album has always meant a sudden loss of identity, I do not complain.
She knows exactly what she is doing, and you accept the show on her terms. PJ Harvey's world inhabits the Polish club, like it inhabits her albums (whichever genre and style she chooses to go for) and any live performance she has ever done. For once, the distortion is controlled, the chaos is tamed and the noise turns, well, noiseless. "White Chalk" she does as an encore leaves me breathless, and then it is all over. We are back to the crackling noise coming from the giant speakers.
