St Vincent at the Royal Albert Hall

St Vincent, the stage name of American singer and musician Anne Clark, manifests herself on the Royal Albert Hall stage just on time. Movable arches and a hypnotic lighting game, combined with Clark’s guitar riffs and multiple stage personas, make for a delightfully unconventional performance. It helps, also, that she has the support of an incredibly talented band. Clark introduces every member – or “group of weirdos” as she affectionately refers to them – towards the end of the show: Jason Falkner on guitar, Charlotte Kemp on bass, Mark Guiliana on drums and Rachel Eckroth on keyboards.

From playing guitar for Sufjan Stevens to co-writing with Taylor Swift, this artist has shown a type of versatility that translates well into her live performances. Her various guises can shine through and take their turn to play with an entertained and mesmerised audience. There’s something deeply distinctive and unique about her: a sensational guitarist with a twisted sense of humour and visual identity, who can be solemn and ethereal one second, and kicking her legs while lying down on the floor, crawling under Kemp’s legs during songs like Krokodil, the next.

Her latest album, All Born Screaming, is her first entirely self-produced record – she’s come a long way since her 2007 debut album, Marry Me. She opens the concert with Reckless, one of her newer tracks: despite being slower and less danceable compared to the rest of the album, it makes for a perfect opening. A white light is shining through, projecting the singer’s majestic silhouette while she is standing under the arches. A glorious entrance, and an almost surreal moment for her fans, who are in complete awe. They don’t know it yet, but they need a moment like this to catch their breath. Reckless, in fact, is then followed by Fear the Future – and then the prog-rock frenzy takes over.

The spine-chilling guitar riff in the middle of Marrow will be a hard one to forget; songs like this allow Clark to fully showcase her talent, which never comes across as a self-serving act. She is not trying to prove anything – she knows she is good – but rather seems to let the music take over, quite literally possessing her body. Her stage alterego is multifaceted and entertaining. She dances like a broken doll, kicks, throws herself on the floor and on the crowd, much to the latter’s delight.

Songs like Surgeon, from her 2011 album Strange Mercy, and Flea, with its haunting chorus, possess an equally aquatic and sticky quality: a haunting guitar riff and crescendo of emotions, never quite knowing where it is going to take you. But you’re there for the journey.

However, just as one might be expecting another frenetic moment, thunderous drum solo or guitar riff, the lights glow red and she is slowing down once again, for the beautifully delicate Candy Darling followed by pop ballad New York. They allow the singer to pause and share a more intimate moment with her audience, once again proving she can do it all.

The concert ends as it started: a perfect and well-timed choice. The closing song is the album’s titular track – just as the chorus reaches its climax, while the audience is bathed in a blinding white light, the stage then turns dark. And darkness seems to swallow the singer and her band, who have all vanished. In the end, one might wonder if it was all a fever dream.

Benedetta Mancusi
Photos: Blair Brown

For further information and future events visit St Vincent’s website here.

Watch the video for the single Broken Man here: