Live Review: PJ Harvey

Much to the dismay of local fans, we were skipped on PJ Harvey's last Australian tour, making it a nine-year delay since she last played here, braving a lone QPAC stage with just piano and guitar.

Tonight is the very antithesis of that performance. She returns with all her characteristic glory in stride, but this time she is the head of a mammoth 10-piece ensemble. The pay-off is huge and goes a long way to redeeming almost every pained moment of such an excruciatingly long wait.

The dry march of Chain of Keys is a subtle opener, yet it wastes no time in demonstrating that this band means business. For a storyteller such as PJ, an ensemble of this size proves invaluable. The dynamism of sound and texture provided by their number and instrumental variety illustrates her narratives with a deserving depth and richness. This broadening in scope of sound runs parallel with the lyrical shift. It runs with the logic, and can be seen as reflective of her transition toward a more political and globally conscious, thematic approach.

PJ continues on the course of last year's The Hope Six Demolition Project, playing another three, Ministry of Defence, Community of Hope, and Orange Monkey, back-to-back. She shows no sign of easing out of this political terrain as she steadies her course along its trajectory, heading straight into a block of Let England Shake material. The title track welcomes us to its gates, before Words that Maketh Murder and The Glorious Land give us a view of the dark interior. When PJ jumps forward again with Medicinals, hope for much of a taste of that sweet-tinged nostalgia begins to fade a little.

We're nine songs deep into the set and she hasn't even come close to a mere flirtation with the 'golden' era but, surprisingly, there's no space that screams to be filled. Everything feels full and delivered to its greatest effect. The command of this material becomes more evident in the live arena, and its sonic depths more realised. And the fact that PJ stands her ground instead of resting on her past laurels is further testament to her artistry and maturity. Here stands an artist unafraid to deny us of want we want, held strong by a conviction in her own knowing of what we need.

White Chalk's When Under Ether and The Devil are placed either side of Dollar, Dollar, creating an unholy trinity that draws us into darker depths. It's a hell of a treat to hear the two former played through the scope of this full band, who then raise the bar even higher again with a standout rendition of The Wheel. This sees PJ looking more than comfortable on the sax before delivering those haunting vocal lines and carrying over both duties into Ministry Of Social Affairs. Something wicked this way then comes as that little chucking, unmistakable opening-riff announces the arrival of 50 ft Queenie. It's fierce and it's fast but, more interestingly, it seems to be the most fun had up on stage thus far.

She stays on this well-trodden path, following its logical conclusion with career standouts Down By The Water and To Bring You My Love. PJ seems to enter a more theatrical space and allows herself to become really immersed in these two. On the latter, she projects her voice with a fierceness and strength that is unlike any other moment in the show. It's Polly Jean in the guise so many of us first grew to love in her in, and it hits with emphasised weight. It's a short time in the hue of these golden lights before we a brought back to the present and reminded once again of the potency of its offerings too.

River Anacostia rounds out the set before an encore of Guilty and The Last Living Rose bring the night to a dramatic close, leaving us without a disappointing moment to ponder upon. It's a wonder there's no nagging weak points in such a long set set, but even more startling is PJ's immense ability to lead the 10-piece through this endurance without ever seeming like she isn't in complete command. It leaves us with a dynamic portrait of an artist who refuses to let her powers wane or conform to expectations; a dynamic portrait that may just have to keep us going for many moons to come — let's just hope it's lot less than nine years this time.