St. Vincent, The Fleece, Bristol

Had you never heard St. Vincentʼs music, you would probably have been forgiven for thinking that Annie Clark may have seemed a little out of place at The Fleece. Sophisticated, feminine and seemingly demure, Clark might not seem like the type who would fit in at a venue brandishing posters for the likes of The Acacia Strain and Napalm Death.

But itʼs clear from the moment that she and her band take to the stage tonight that Annie Clark feels completely at home amongst the matt black walls and in the sweat-mist that hangs in the air. She is poised and confident as she opens her set with ʻSurgeonʼ and ʻCheerleaderʼ, both of which are bass-heavy and driving - but itʼs Clark herself that is the key focal point throughout. Whether she is stood at the mic or effortlessly playing devastating riffs, she is entirely captivating. Her musical ability is just astounding, and watching her in her element is a real joy.

Her set tonight is mostly made up of tracks from her latest album ʻStrange Mercyʼ, although there are several older songs thrown into the mix too such as ʻMarrowʼ, which she introduces as a “dance jam” and ʻActor Out Of Workʼ, both of which are as well-received by the audience as her more recent material. Whilst the likes of ʻNorthern Lightsʼ see the band at their most wild, ʻChampagne Yearʼ and ʻYear Of The Tigerʼ both show that St. Vincent is equally as spellbinding when she slows things down. She doesnʼt have to rely on her big-hitters to keep the crowdʼs attention; the room is silent during her downbeat tracks as well, holding onto her every enunciated word, her every restrained chord.

But Clark is undoubtedly at her mesmerising, ferocious best when she pulls out all of the stops, as she does during final song ʻYour Lips Are Redʼ. In a rare moment of abandon she hurls herself into the crowd, before holding her guitar out to the people stood at the front and yelling at them to hit it. But no sooner is she back on the stage than her poise and control is regained, and she smiles and waves gratefully as she and her band depart.

As well as her awe-inspiring musicianship, it is plain to see that Annie Clark is in complete control tonight. Whether sheʼs gesturing to her drummer, nodding at her synth player or throwing the sound engineer a disparaging glance at any slight swell of feedback, her professionalism and experience is very impressive indeed. She didnʼt just control her band tonight, she owned the entire room. For an hour at least, it seemed as though the smelly, dingy Fleece could only have been made for St. Vincent.