Live Review: Cat Power

On time and looking relaxed, Chan Marshall — aka Cat Power — walks casually through a stage strewn strategically with light bulbs and an upright piano to a buzzing guitar amp.

Plugging in loudly, she quietly strums Maria and straight through Old Detroit with an effect-laden mic setup before taking so many liberties with Fool that the lyrics are almost unrecognisable. It's a theme that repeats often; loosely familiar arrangements, unclear segues, half attempts and false starts litter a set that deviates from most of the favourites in favour of deep catalogue cuts, unreleased tracks, covers and mid-song production instructions. Moving to piano, Free is a highlight, Maybe Not and I Don't Blame You are notable for the strength of clearly defined melodies, though Names is heartbreakingly haunting in a setting so intimate that a fidgeting audience member can easily overshadow Marshall's restrained vocal. A squeaking piano pedal does just this in 3,6,9, Marshall's only nod to 2012's acclaimed Sun, though it's forgotten as The Greatest provides the most affecting moment of the evening; stripped bare, the title track of her seventh record is truly something to be lost in. This moment of total exposure is followed by an attempt to work out the melody of Sometimes It Snows In April, and an incoherent chat about D'Angelo, Prince and yoga — just as soon as a moment of clarity is presented, it's interrupted too quickly with a half-formed thought or a rush to the next song. The banter becomes increasingly more difficult to follow, at times slowing to extended silence; it's distracting, though the rawness is classic Marshall. Marvin Gaye's Can I Get A Witness ends the long piano bracket with a rare audience "whoot", while a reimagined Say provides a strong and clear start to the final guitar set. Marshall fumbles with the start of Good Woman before abandoning it to Moby Grape's Naked If I Want To, returning to her alt-folk ode to lost love triumphantly. Strumming vigorously and spitting attitude in the lengthy and gripping closer, it feels as though Marshall is only just hitting her stride on the unreleased Bully. And then she's waving and whispering apologies for the rescheduled dates, the departing crowd murmuring bewilderment as Marshall lingers while pretending to smoke: "I'm just gonna smoke 'til you guys leave," she says to an emptying theatre.

The hard truth is that Marshall could be — and often is — stunning in this format, though the unstructured approach is tough for a fan waiting years between visits to handle. The awkward and often unhinged performance style is a side effect of her willingness to be enormously vulnerable; without it Chan Marshall's Cat Power would be a very different, and rather ordinary, beast.