Catching the second of two shows in the evening, Londoners file into St. Pancras Old Church, not for midnight mass, but for an intimate slice of lo-fi Americana. In the church, dimly lit by candles and lavished with religious iconography, there are not enough pews for the fans of Waxahatchee, meaning the 100-strong congregation is forced to crowd at the back.
Surprise support comes from Radiator Hospital, AKA. Sam Cook-Parrott. His untraditionally arresting voice is phenomenal. Full of angst and fuelled by lost love, his performance knocks the crowd for six. The gig is marked as special as soon as he slinks on to the altar, ditches his microphone and proceeds with his set unamplified. As his wails echo off the rafters it’s clear that the microphone would only hold him back. He’s joined briefly by Alison Crutchfield, twin-sister of Waxahatchee’s Katie Crutchfield and they harmonise beautifully when covering Lucinda Williams’ ‘Something About What Happens When We Talk.’ He and Alison leave the stage to thunderous applause.
Katie Crutchfield exercises her voice in Waxahatchee, playing without-backing band and erring towards her early material off American Weekend, she performs sleepy songs that typify sitting on porches; perching on windowsills and watching the world go by. The gentle tone of her guitar bumbles past while her distinctive voice cuts deeply. She’s a storyteller and with a lack of porches to sit her audience on, I guess a creaky old church will have to do. One particular highlight is ‘Bathtub’ which is delivered so delicately you could hear a pin drop.
Alison, who has remained close-by, returns to lend her voice in the second part of the show, helping to beef out new material from upcoming album Ivy Tripp (released in March). The sisterly bond is crystal clear and the harmonies are flawless because of it.
The church is the perfect backdrop for Waxahatchee, who plays London’s Electric Ballroom in June; it will be interesting to see how she fares in a larger venue. Her pristine vocals reverberate from wall to wall, decorative Jesus to decorative Jesus, but you wonder whether their charm could be slightly diminished with an active bar and more expansive space.
But tonight the crowd is silent, phones are left aside and in the candle-lit church the melancholy masterclasses of Waxahatchee and Radiator Hospital are chillingly intimate.
