Lianne La Havas brings a summertime spirit to stormy south London
“This is my first performance in a long time,” said Lianne La Havas at the start of her gig at the Clapham Grand in south London. Then she grinned, and corrected herself: “Actually, that’s a lie, I did one last week.” That live music can be a regular treat, rather than an ever-receding memory, is clearly an idea musicians and audiences are still getting used to.
Not that La Havas betrayed any squeaky hinges.The singer-songwriter, now 31, was discovered on Myspace aged 18, while her debut album Is Your Love Big Enough? was nominated for the Mercury Prize in 2012. Since then, alongside artists such as Michael Kiwanuka and Celeste, she has established herself at the forefront of the contemporary British soul scene. Her self-titled third album, released last year, was nominated at the 2021 Brit Awards. An intimate, intricate account of a breakup, it was shot-through with raw lyricism.
It was an unexpected delight, therefore, to see her play the entertainer in a very confident set at Clapham. Channelling her mentor Prince -- he once did a set in her kitchen -- she brought a jolt of summertime jubilation to stormy south London. The venue was festooned in fairy lights and burgundy velvet like a Christmas party at a provincial Chinese restaurant. A vast glitterball, as tasteful as a pirate’s earring, hung above the stage.
Accompanied by a woozy bass, La Havas felt her way into Green & Gold, the standout single from her second album, Blood. She then moved onto songs from that latest collection which, crucially, she shuffled in order. So instead of a predictable movement from infatuation through to heartbreak and self-knowledge, we got her relationship as a mosaic: each moment picked up, turned over and placed wherever she pleased. Paper Thin, a confessional Joni Mitchell-esque number about comforting a lover, was followed by Lost & Found, the end of the affair. La Havas delivered it with the statuesque pathos: “You broke me/ And taught me/ to truly hate myself.”
For Seven Times she thwacked away at a Spanish guitar, a nod to her father’s love of bossa nova. Her joy crackled: feet jitterbugging in a pair of killer platforms, she cocked towards the mic like Johnny Cash. Riots have started at Folsom Prison over less.
This energy was welcome as there were several technical hitches along the way which needed to be papered over. But as La Havas led the audience in a sing-along of Midnight -- “Come on, you can be louder than that” -- any misgivings were forgotten. Feet pumping, bellowing away, it was clear why we had missed her.
