Bill Ryder-Jones opens the show with a warm, sparse set. Just his cracked, warbling vocals, acoustic guitar (mostly) and the beautiful cello of Evelyn Kate Halls. He seems visibly moved by the reception, as well as the fact that it’s the final night of the tour. Sups of white wine attempt to cover up his occasionally garbled attempts at stage banter. But when in full flight, his songs soar and beguile, with clear and unabashed sincerity (‘Don’t Be Scared, I Love You’). He ruminates on love (‘Seabirds’) and restless anxiety (‘This Can’t Go On’) with equal aplomb, with a winning vocal turn from Halls on the latter.
Despite being backed by an elaborate seven-piece band, Beth Gibbons continues the low-key feel of the evening. ‘Tell Me Who You Are Today’ and ‘Burden of Life’ emphasise the quiet majesty of the arrangements, the stage obscured in shadow as Gibbons’ iconic voice grows in strength. ‘Floating on a Moment’ is the first time the true power of the band is seen, the regular drums augmented by a second percussion rig crammed with all manner of timpani, bells and shakers. The string section is reserved and elegant, seamlessly weaving in and amongst the building wall of sound as Gibbons glides atop the electronics.
Lives Outgrown, the long-awaited solo debut, for all of its qualities, is still a fairly drab affair. It’s very much in the Gibbons wheelhouse, but when it comes to translating it to the stage, she’s smartly surrounded herself with a crack band to keep things from getting too bogged down in melancholia. As much as her voice is a pleasure whatever the circumstances, a static set composed of largely unknown material needs a bit of pizazz. And this the band deliver perfectly.
We get the whole of Lives Outgrown, flanked by a pair of songs from Gibbons’ collaboration with Rustin Man, Out of Season. But from the opening moments of the encore opener we’re met with a thick, smoky beat and some familiar Hammond organ. The appearance of ‘Roads’, from Portishead’s legendary Dummy, instantly heightening the mood amongst the near sold-out crowd. ‘Reaching Out’ brings things back to normality, and the band converge at the front of the stage for a bow. It’s the first time we’ve really been able to see Gibbons, and her ear-to-ear grin makes for an endearing end to the night.
But wait – a quick word with the band, and they return to their posts and launch into ‘The Rip’, one of the greatest Portishead songs, stripping out the krautrock heart in favour of lush arpeggios that frame Gibbons’ perfect croon. It’s the first time she’s ever played it as a solo artist, and it makes for a memorable close to a special evening.