Here in the antipodes, Polly Jean Harvey tours tend to roll around every four or five years. Given that she changes her tour presentation with every release, astutely and rather dramatically, Australian fans may crave the dynamics of the tours of yore.
But PJ Harvey is an artist untamed by popular fame, nor is she driven by the need for more of it. Touring in support of last year’s excellent The Hope 6 Demolition Project album, this performance showcased that album in majority, with selected back-catalogue moments which complemented the prevailing mood.
It’s the height of summer at the moment, but the Fremantle Doctor can still make for a chilling presence. This evening fell between balmy and breezy, and therefore very comfortable. Agreeable. A gig some years ago at Belvoir Amphitheatre united Harvey and her heaving, surging audience under torrential rain; now this was a different kind of gathering with a different kind of album to steer the show.
The beating of drums heralded a somewhat ornate opening to proceedings, as Harvey’s multi-instrumental backing musicians walked on to the stage with snares and bass drums, opening as a marching band. The formalities eased into Chain of Keys, a foreboding and starkly dramatic tune, which saw Harvey setting down her commanding vocal agenda and wielding a saxophone as part instrument, part talisman.
The song The Ministry of Defence emphasised the appearance of the band’s members, in ubiquitous black, performing in front of grey, concrete visuals, with Harvey at front as the speaker of the House, her arms directing the dynamic and all the attention. The musical evocation seems industrial in its template, but with a beating, bloodied heart.
Her recent single The Community of Hope found the singer with her arms free. Performing a cheery-sounding song in comparison, appropriately hopeful, even, Harvey was alluring and magnetic. The exquisite percussion intro of The Orange Monkey reinforced the utilitarian sound and presentation while barely hiding the beauty and vulnerability inside.
As the evening progressed, the mood shifted without lightening too much. The ’fess-up of A Line in the Sand was a quirkier exercise. Let England Shake was somewhat vocally unhinged as the backdrop of colours broke from grey to orange and blue.
As the evening progressed, various members of the 10-piece band (including longtime collaborators Mick Harvey and John Parrish) left and returned to the stage, bringing back different string, horn and percussive instruments that led the musical charge, mostly at the expense of steadfast guitars or bass. From the driven clap-a-long of The Words that Maketh Murder to the ethereal Written on the Forehead and the terrifying innocence of The Devil, all songs were given their moment to shine, each magnificent in its own way.
The Wheel echoed the driving feel of the Velvet Underground, with twin guitars (none held by Harvey, mind) eventually making a stronger appearance.
Previous Harvey tours have seen more rapturous audience responses, but it was a transfixed crowd, nonetheless. However, when the Bo Diddley-blues-styled The Ministry of Social Affairs was soon followed by a raucous 50 Ft Queenie, it was all the best kinds of chaos.
Down by the Water drew a welcome shout. Powerful yet subdued, its tide pulled all and sundry in. It was something of an antidote to the previous two songs in terms of energy, but probably more enthralling.
The band introductions were Harvey’s only spoken allowances of the night, other than a humble “thank you so much” at the end. Banter seems unnecessary when you consider what followed. To Bring You My Love was resonating. Haunting. Captivating. A beautiful economy of song.
Drawing again from the latest album, Near the Memorials to Vietnam and Lincoln was a vocal triumph. From Harvey’s beautifully soaring lead to the gentle yet assertive ensemble backing vocals and the a cappella finale, it was a fitting end to the main set.
In the much-demanded encore, Highway 61 Revisited (once voted by Paste magazine as the 15th best Bob Dylan cover ever) was a majestic cacophony, with the horn section making a good case for overtime. Another return to yore, 1998’s Is This Desire?, finished the show on a beguiling note, on an occasion when the audience, rather than being regaled with (in some cases expected) bombast and sentimental faves, was stunned by beauty.
• PJ Harvey is touring Australia until 28 January
