Wednesday 28/03/07 Damien Rice @ The Scala, London

The vague derision from industry colleagues versus the rapturous attention I get from ‘regular’ music obsessed punters, displays the gulf of opinion surrounding Damien Rice. The first in the ‘noughties range of singer songwriters, he has been tarnished artistically by the rise of 4,586 similar songwriters. James Blunt is only the tip of the iceberg; from James Morrisson to Ryan Adams to Sandi Thom, the rise of Radio Two has meant there is real financial gain to be made from singer songwriters. Who is any good is a matter of opinion.

Tonight’s intimate gig is a special one-off for XFM. The band have just done Shepherds Bush empire, so its no wonder they’re a bit on the tired side. Nevertheless, Damien Rice opens with a slightly accelerated version of the limpid ‘9 Crimes’, which takes on a bumbling quality.

‘Older Chests’ makes a delicious interlude. A scruffy haired Rice introduces the next track. “This song’s about when you keep ****ing things up and you don’t know why. And then her smell is with you so you get into no trouble.” ‘Cannonball’ could easily have taken the gig to a halt, but the band keep it moving at a resonant pace that means the set is not slowed too early on. The warmth to the pace means it doesn’t become overly poignant.

Damian is pleasantly chatty, and the intimacy of the gig is stunning. Scala is by no means a small venue, with a capacity of well over 1000, yet Rice is so chatty and self-effacing that this feels truly confidential. At this stage he remembers the gig is being recorded for XFM, and he swore through the last few songs. “Can you beep us?” One of his bandmates knows the score; “**** yeah!”

A great lively track interrupts the middle of the set with a great break-down halfway through into bongos. It shows what good musicians were dealing with and punctuates the set to great effect. Already tonight, it’s clear that Rice is clearly superior to many of his companions on the singer-songwriter terrain. The problem is he’s part of the evolution which led to Blunt, the root of all evil. While most of this genre simply use delicate presentation to create atmosphere, Rice has the tunes to back it up. Other competitors create poignancy artificially through irrational tune and volume undulation.

Later, bandmate Vyvienne Long performs a wonderful track called ‘Random Man’ that draws rapturous applause. Yet it is around this time that some of the audience start yelling “where’s Lisa?”

Rice is clearly uncomfortable, and plays with his guitar and peers at the floor as he feels he should explain himself. “We play music but we have very normal lives…it’s a tricky situation where you want to be open but you want to be quiet as well….” A long pause ensues. “So that’s why I don’t really talk about it.” The audience are polite enough to clap in support of what was clearly a difficult explanation for Rice. The quiet in the venue is intense.

Then a heckler cries, “Go on Damien”

“And so it is.” ‘The Blower’s Daughter’ brings the house down.