How much did I like this show? Well, here’s a clue: at the end, the only really bad thing I could think of was that the bass guitar could have been a bit louder. I’ve seen David Gray on stage quite a few times now, and this was easily the most satisfying show, the one that did justice to his voice, his music, his songs, and especially his lyrics, which were, almost uniquely for such an event, audible and understandable almost word for word.
Ever since he had a hit 12 years ago with the folktronic “Babylon”, David Gray has become the man that the pop cognoscenti like to sneer at; a singer-songwriter (itself a somewhat unfashionable category) who waggles his head and sounds a bit like Dylan and mainlines on gloomy introspection. Well, it’s all true. He waggles his head quite a lot, still. He does sound a bit like Dylan (in fact he sounds more like Dylan these days than Dylan does). And gloomy introspection is his stock-in-trade. But it’s done with such craft, such skill, and here it was sung with such clarity and purpose and emotional authenticity, I was simply seduced. He writes great songs; he sings them; and that’s that.
It has to be said that there was a certain amount of sophistry at work in the build-up to this gig. All touring musicians must grow weary of the album-tour-album-tour treadmill; hence, presumably, the widely publicised notion that this tour, of which this was the final night, was to be an acoustic, organic affair; quieter, subtler. This was all true, up to a point, but taking my seat in the stalls, I immediately noticed a keyboard with the word “Kawai” on it and realised that the definition of “acoustic” had become somewhat elastic; likewise the electric guitar, and the electric bass that sometimes stood in for the double bass (and which in the event was nothing like as deep and thrummy; see opening paragraph).
But regardless of what it claimed to be, this show was certainly organic. The rich textures of guitars, cello (you could hear it properly - hooray!), bass, piano, harmonium, keyboards and drums created something warm and real, rendered immaculately clear by the sound system and the hall’s acoustics. And David Gray’s voice was fabulous – it’s gritty and raspy but it’s also rich and true, and he does a mean falsetto, too. Three big floor lamps placed around the stage enhanced the impression that we were experiencing something warm and intimate, an interaction between musicians, who, tellingly, spent most of the time facing each other with earnest concentration.
Most of all, though, what I loved about this show was its emotional honesty. From the opening song, the title track of last year’s Foundling album, through to a radically revisited version of “The One I Love” (aching loss rather than exuberance in this tale of a dying soldier), to a tingling “Flame Turns Blue” from 1999’s Lost Songs album, to a glorious, soaring "Alibi", and culminating in a majestic, unashamedly romantic “Sail Away”, this was compellingly heartfelt. Inevitably there was “Babylon”, too, but it was "Babylon" redux: a gentler, more muted affair.
Ten years or so ago, thanks to “Babylon” and his breakthrough White Ladder album (his fourth), David Gray was filling venues as big as Earls Court. But he was never really a pop star, and in the intervening years he has progressively downsized to more modest halls such as this one. Last night’s show suggested that he seems infinitely happier and more comfortable at this level. This is where he belongs.
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