Wearing a dark blue, puff-sleeved shift dress and black tights, her hair neatly tucked under itself, Al Spx looks like a fresh-faced primary school teacher rather than the foremost proponent of "doom soul", her phrase to describe the fusion of sparse folk and gothic gospel she crafts under the moniker Cold Specks.
Two years on from her intriguing debut, I Predict a Graceful Expulsion, the Canadian singer has won international acclaim, collaborated with Moby and Swans and released her second album, Neuroplasticity. But Spx's heart remains full of darkness. "This is about removing the head of your lover while he sleeps," she says of new track Old Knives. "It's a love song."
What has changed, however, is Cold Specks' sound. Twinkling acoustic minimalism has given way to layers of emotive guitar, bass, brass and synths stitched together with bold drums. It's a full, sometimes eerily beautiful melee that sighs and berates in equal measure and sometimes sounds more grunge than gospel. Or, as Spx puts it: "Bit louder these days."
Her vocals, however, ensure everything stays soulful. She spins beauty out of the sad dance of A Broken Memory and swaps between two mics to unite the fitful rhythms of Bodies at Bay. A born singer, Spx seems to feel music from the ground up – she shuffles, rises and turns on her heels of her shoeless feet – while her shaking hands betray her frustration in Exit Plan and also on Absisto, which begins with a chilling a cappella rendition of Elvis's Peace in the Valley.
Spx is not, however, a natural performer. "I should interact, but I don't do that," she admits. An attempt at small talk quickly falls flat and there's a sense she's here to do a job and get away as painlessly as possible. Spx leaves behind an impression of an artist in flux and in Cold Specks, a concept that's as frustrating as it is beguiling.
• At Wedgewood Rooms, Portsmouth, 25 September. Box office: 023 9286 3911. Then touring.
