Our final article from Somerset House’s Summer Series brings you reviews from Corinne Bailey Rae – a woman I’ve admired for a long time, for her sheer musical talent, beauty and will power, and Divine Comedy – an artist I only knew from posters, and was once again surprised by.  I’m sad to see the Summer Series end, but can’t help smiling at what I’ve seen.

As the crowd rose from their blankets and picnics on the courtyards floor, everyone was eying the clock, eagerly on the 16^th of July. Bang on 9pm, Corinne Bailey Rae and her band stepped on stage. Unlike the other nights, her entrance wasn’t marked with a loud, grand instrumental, or even the beginning of one of her songs, she simply strolled on, dressed in a black, loose fit wet look style jump suit, cinched at the waist with a silver belt. Her waves of big, beautiful curly black hair bounced as she walked and framed her gorgeous smiling face. She spoke with a quiet Leeds accent, and told us that she’s going to play some older album tracks, and a lot from her new album, The Sea. The crowd are just excited to hear that voice again.

The opening song, Are You Here, was quite different to the acoustic-ey album version, instead using distorted electrical guitars, unfortunately giving the song a disjointed feel, like a CD that skips. There was also a couple of technical hitches with feedback, but as she got more into her stride for Paris Nights/New York Mornings, we saw a more soulful and jazzier side than what her first album bought us. During Closer, she moved her arms in a slow, elegant way with a big smile on her face. She looked like a painting, or a sculpture with her arms raised up and her hands open, fingers stretched out towards the sky – she really is a beautiful woman. She introduced the next song as the first political song she’s written, “It’s about hope, and hopelessness, being a part of something and wanting to change things”, and the low rumble of the bass began Love Is On Its Way. The song has a post-protest feel to it, like a lull after a crescendo. It feels like the embers after a fire, and the simple blue lights that lit up the stage matched the bordering melancholy feel of the song. As the song progressed, it felt like a rise from the ashes, the sense of the beginnings of a change, it felt like a story, or a trailer to a film, like the beginning of something big… It felt to me, like the mark of her return to music – hopeful.  The crowd adore it, and are delighted when she says she’s going to do a “Golden Oldie”, and I certainly can’t help but smile as Till It Happens To You begins. It feels like going home to a favourite spot, and re-reading a favourite book, it feels intimate and safe, and the gorgeous acoustic strumming towards the end of the song feels personal.

The whole set feels like it has a heavier influence from soul and jazz music than her debut album, and she uses this influence during her cover of I Only Have Eyes For You. Her version is deliciously slow and sensual, it has the feel of late night cuddles and kisses.

She introduced Paper Dolls by saying “It’s a song about the bad girls I was friends with at school” – I tried to imagine a younger Corinne Bailey Rae, and what she was like. I can’t picture her keeping friends with these bad girls, but the song certainly has that rebelling, edgy feel to it, a slightly different, more modern sound than the other songs – less soulful, more pop rock, but it sounds brilliant. She plays a guaranteed crowd pleaser – Put Your Records On, which has every member of the audience singing and dancing along. And as if we weren’t happy enough, she follows it up with Just Like A Star, receiving a huge cheer as soon as the crowd hear it. She tells us she’s coming to the end of the set, and laughs when the crowd boo’s her before playing I Would Like To Call It Beauty, admitting that out of all the songs, she most wanted to play this one. It felt personal, and like she was telling us a story. She timidly told us she was about to play the last song of the evening, and was scared of being booed again! She gets a few good-hearted boo’s and laughs, before playing The Sea. The lighting made her look angelic, it feels beautifully jazzy and acoustic-ey, it felt like a perfect mid way between the feel to her last album and this one. She says thank you for having her, and thank you to the band, and leaves…

…But of course, we’re not letting her go that easily! After a few minutes of cheers and claps, she returned smiling, promising to do one more song, a favourite of hers for years, that she only just started playing. She began a jazzy, soulful rendition of Que Sera Sera, picking up an electric guitar half way through and playing gospel-style sounds, switching from loud and electric to quiet and ambient in a heartbeat. It sounds incredible, and after a beautiful rendition of the song, she finally says goodnight. From the smiles on everyone’s faces, I’d say I wasn’t the only one who was left feeling elated – Miss Bailey Rae, we welcome you back with open arms.

After the amazing set Corinne Bailey Rae delivered the night before, I really had no idea what to expect from The Divine Comedy. The stage left me with few clues – a black grand piano in the centre, and white linen sheets hanging in strips from the ceiling, pulled in to the back of the stage creating a fluid dip. I essentially knew two things about the music I was about to hear – 1) that it was a one-man-band, and 2) that the comedian Jo Brand was a fan, as I’d seen her in the VIP bar –but this was all I had to go on.

The crowd was considerably older, with no one sat on the floor – it felt a bit too grown up for that kind of thing. The atmosphere was less impatient, and I only saw a couple of young children with their parents in the entire venue. As a staccato, orchestra style track played over the speakers, the man of the hour walked on to the stage. Neil Hannon looked somewhat like he’d just left the house on the way to work in the 1920’s, wearing a three piece grey suit, a bowler hat and carrying a leather briefcase. He certainly looked very dapper. He took his seat at the piano, and began with the opening line from The Complete Banker – “Can anyone lend me ten billion quid?” – which received lots of hearty laughs. The sheets are lit bright colours, and I soon discovered that a lot of the evening was to follow in a similar manner, full of laughter and cheering. Hannon has a wonderful technique of relating his songs to his audience and surroundings, like in Assume The Perpendicular, where he revels in his surroundings, adapting his lyrics to “We’re off to the depths of Somerset…House”, as the crowd laugh and lap it up he told us in a bizarre Mexican accent, “I think I like you, I play lots of songs!”

I was surprised, not only by how much I was enjoying the music (funny songs aren’t really my thing, but I really did enjoy this concert) but also the way in which he went from songs that made us laugh, to serious, more sombre songs that made us think, as well as sweet songs like Everybody Knows (Except You), which saw a lot of couples in the audience putting their arms around each other. One of the beautiful things about this song was the way in which the audience sung along but in a more ‘grown up’ way – under their breaths, creating this gorgeous humming noise. He laughs that the song Your Daddy’s Car is older than some of the audience members, and tells us an obscure fact about hay fever before starting The Pop Singers Fear of the Pollen Count. The excited cheer that National Express received made the audience seem less like responsible adults and more like eager school children, providing the backing vocals with more than enough vigour.

There’s a lovely transition between sweet and funny in If…, accompanied with a lovely ambience through the lighting on the stage and in the sky. He picked up an acoustic guitar and introduced Neapolitan Girl, explaining that it was a song about what people had to do in and after the Second World War in Italy to stay alive. It was chilling, with sad poignant lyrics sung in a chirpy fashion.  He made a joke about how many albums he’s had, introducing the next song as the album previous to this one “Let’s just call it number 9” and we have a beautifully gentle Snowball In Negative, that feels like rainy winter nights. The crowd really do love him, I was warming to him too.

At The Indie Disco presents a wonderfully upbeat break from his beautiful serious songs; it’s a wonderful story of common youth. He then plays us a song that “you might hear at a contemporary indie disco” – MGMT’s Time To Pretend. It sounds great, and so unusual hearing it without an electrical element, a truly unique version I have to say. Neil tells us that he was a little worried during Don’t Look Now, as “When I started doing the God bit the pages started blowing and I’m a little freaked out! I’ll soothe the deity with this number…” and plays the darkly funny yet sad A Lady Of A Certain Age, a nice follow up to At The Indie Disco.

After singing Songs Of Love he asks, “Do you want to know what’s in my brief case?” – he opened it and lists a reel of unusual objects, including a tie, a chocolate from his pillow at his hotel, some Haribo, notes from a film director and lots and lots of toilet paper – he then laughed and said “Are you still having a good time or are you really, really bored?” the set resumes with When A Man Cries, which receives a heavy applause. The crowd are uplifted by Have You Ever Been In Love? and Our Mutual Friend. The concert finished with a wonderful bouncy Tonight We Fly, seeing the whole room clap and dance along. He gives a long bow, takes his glass of white wine, and leaves.

In the encore, we laugh along to Can You Stand Upon One Leg (which the majority of the audience attempt… with a fair few failures!) and asked someone in the front row to tell a joke. Hannon also got the words wrong half way through, a trait he repeats during I Like, where they were forgot all together and had to be prompted by the audience! Hannon looked at his watch and decided he was having too much fun, and so plays Down In The Street Below, before giving another long low bow, and tipping his hat to his adoring crowd – who just don’t want to let him go.

During the Summer Series, I’ve seen 6 different artists and bands perform at the breath taking Somerset House, some of whom I’ve loved for a long time, some only recently, and one I’d never even heard before. I’ve been delighted, inspired, surprised, awe-struck, and many other emotions throughout the series… I cannot wait to see what next year will bring…

Written by Bee Pahnke, Photography © Mike McAdam